Climbing the learning curve.

I went to public skating tonight, which might seem pretty pathetic for a Friday night now I'm a hip and happening single lass, but I'm a huge nerd and felt like I needed some exercise. Besides, an evening talking about my favourite subject always appeals and the lack of a bar makes it easy to feel virtuous and yet cooler than staying in.

I got talking to a new derby skater, who I'd seen at the fresh meat open day last weekend. She was there with her partner and I was my usual, bubbly, offering-help-regardless-of-being-asked-for-it self. We skated and talked and talked and skated, and I mentioned that I had just passed skills (as a disclaimer on any advice I had to give). she seemed pretty surprised and said that, given my skills (yo) she'd had me pegged as a seasoned league skater, and how had I got that good in under a year of skating? After blushing a bit and saying thank you a lot, it did get me thinking about my story so far. When I started skating I thought I would be pretty good from the get go. I mean, how hard can it be? Reality bit pretty hard on that one, and so I resolved to grit teeth and really WORK at it. And it paid off, it really did. I told the skater about my little idea: That every time I came off the rink at the end of a session, be it fresh meat, league training, a public skate or a spin round the waterfront, that I would have learned something new, tried something different or improved something about my skating. Even if it was just a weeny, silly thing, no skate should feel wasted.

So.

Today I learned more about how the Heartless wheels I'm borrowing feel on the other rink's surface compared to the Thursday rink. I learned more about how best to wear my TSG knee pads, and how to adjust my crossovers for the increased size around my knees. I improved my turnaround toe stops and snowploughs on thinner wheels.

As we were leaving, the skater turned to me and told me that she'd learned more about her skates. had done more laps uninterrupted than she'd ever done before, and had improved her snowplough technique. Hearing her think about her skating, and her enthusiasm for the next time made me feel pretty good. Reflection on your learning is a key part of education, and it's definitely worth doing, if only for 30 seconds or so every time you get off the rink. Says me, anyway.

Finally, now I am fully skills-tested and able to scrimmage, I treated myself to the customized name and number shirt. I had always held off, thinking that I wouldn't feel like I'd "earned" it until I was a league skater. I wanted to wear it tonight, because, well, I've waited seven months and it looks really, really cool.

Witness the awesome!

"But wait!" I hear you not say to yourself. "that is not the name of this blog, nor what you have been calling yourself. What gives?" Well, gentle reader, here is the boring story. There is an International Roster of derby names. No two are alike (at least, that's the idea. Subtle spelling flanges abound), and finding a good name that reflects you as a person, isn't really stupid and hasn't been taken is not easy, unless you started skating back in '06 or something. The list is run by a couple of very dedicated, data-entry-loving skaters in the US, and there is a backlog so big that it takes about four months to be on the roster after submission. I checked it the other day, and there was a "Sammy Dodger", and numerous others. Now, that's not identical, but it's close enough. To tell you the absolute truth I had been toying with using my back up name anyway, but The Roster made the decision for me. So, from now on I am Irn Bruja, #37 with the Pirate City Rollers (that feels so damn good to see written down, I can't begin to describe). Why Irn Bruja? Irn Bru is the other national drink of Scotland. It's bright orange, may well fluoresce under UV, makes your teeth feel like they're bubbling like paint under a blowtorch and tastes of battery acid mixed with lollipops. Personally I hate it, but they redeem themselves (slightly) by having a marketing department that could be a sleep-deprived 20-year-old me locked in a cupboard with too many packets of Refreshers, a sharpie pen and a single Ramones record.

Genius. And orange.

So that just leaves the last two letters, and they also rock. A Bruja is the Catalan/Spanish for a witch or sorceress. So, it fits my derby name criteria as it has connections to the homeland, sounds a little aggressive and has enough bits to it that I can sounds like a right smartass when somebody asks.

Great song, and the finest use of bell-bottoms this side of the millenium.