[shakes blog, smacks it around a little]
Oh! Good. Still alive then.
So, around this time of year is when Becky gets all bloggy and inspiring, and I start to think, hey! I have a blog. I should do that again.
(It took until the middle of the month for me to be really inspired this year, not because Becky is not totally inspiring, but because I'm extra lazy.)
But anyway. I guess I should blog, because I have this blog, and I'm paying for it to be hosted somewhere, by people who did something majorly cool like haul their servers up many flights of stairs to keep customers blogs hosted during that giant storm last year, which was approximately the same time I gave any thought to the hosting of my blog.
(That run-on sentence is definitely the best reason to start sharing my thoughts with the world again.)
Also, I have time to blog now, because I am no longer doing the roller derbies.
What? Why? (I imagine you asking.)
Well, as it turns out, making a roller derby league successful is really fucking hard. Our league was the result of a split from the original league in town, and was still finding its wobbly bambi legs. It split for legitimate reasons, and had a good run at it, but was constantly battling challenges like finding a practice space and retaining membership.
All leagues face those challenges, but ours had some major hiccups, and now it is back down to some original core members, all of whom are burnt out on trying to keep the league going. TOD has not been officially called, but the attending surgeon is glancing at the clock.
Also, this summer Alfred broke his leg in his pro wrestling debut. Did I mention Alfred was taking a swing at being a pro wrestler? I think I may have. I guess he decided if I could dress up in crazy outfits and beat people up in front of crowds, so could he.
Anyway, during his exit from the ring - a Royal Rumble in which he spent a good 8 minutes being thrashed by at least 5 men, not that there's anything wrong with that - he landed poorly and cracked his tibia.
(I say "exit" like it was unspectacular, but in fact he was thrown over the top ropes, a move he hadn't even practiced until that day.)
He "sold" it by limping off stage holding his back, which is what wrestlers do. I leaned in towards my friend and said, "I think he actually hurt himself."
She nodded sagely.
He spent the night in emerg. They gave him a brace, which he wore (or a variation of it) for 10 weeks.
Obviously Alfred was the one with the pain and mobility issues, but it really made me realize how screwed I would be if I broke an ankle playing derby. It's a fairly common injury, especially if you drag your toe stops, which I am guilty of. If I were out of commission for 10 weeks (or more), I would...hate it a lot. Really, really, a lot. And Shit would not Get Done.
So, no more derbies. This makes me sad, in some ways. Somehow it is time to move on though. I'm just not sure what to move to. My exercise regime has me halfheartedly following a co-worker around as she lifts weights, which is not that inspiring.