Conscious Competence and fresh meat otters

A derby post! YAY!

The fresh meat sessions have started back and I've been lucky enough to assist coaching both sessions so far. It's incredible to think that a year ago I was in their skates, and now I'm helping them perform transitions and turnaround toe-stops!

With school starting back recently we've had a few professional meetings and seminars on teaching and pedagogy, and one thing I learned in particular really stuck out as useful in derby coaching and learning.

The theory is that there is four stages to learning a new skill. For the sake of coaching, I'll use the example of transitions.

The first stage is unconscious incompetence. This is the stage where you don't know how little you know. You see your coach do a transition and go through the steps. You look at how it's done, and maybe think it looks pretty doable. Think of when you went to your first derby session. Did you think you could pick up skating really quickly? Did you (like me) think that because you skated years ago you'd be onto it in no time? Welcome to unconscious incompetence.

http://freshmeatotter.tumblr.com. Go there.

The second and most dangerous stage is conscious incompetence. This is the known unknown, when you realise that what you're learning is actually really hard. You try transitions moving for the first time, and fall on your ass. You can do it stationary, but not rolling. You can do it rolling on a straight line, but not on the track. You can do it on one side OKish, but the other side feels so wrong you can't begin to describe. You get frustrated, and it's tough. This is dangerous, because this is when a lot of people give up. I'm as guilty of this as anyone else. I can transition. Sort of. I can transition clockwise pretty well, but counter-clockwise? Absolutely not. What was my response to this last year? Stop worrying about it, put it in the "Later" pile, and move on to other things. Think about all the skills you've been shown or tried out. The guitar gathering dust in the attic. The skateboard you fell off as a kid an hour after you unwrapped it at Christmas that ended up in a garage sale (mine had the Ghostbusters logo on it). Realising that something is difficult and having the determination to learn it anyway takes a lot of mental fortitude and it can seem impossible and intensely frustrating to proceed to....

Conscious competence. That one day when you come to training and they make you do a transition drill as a warm up. This time, you decide to try and turn on the whistle. Every time. No matter what. And this time, you manage it. Not every time, not always perfectly, and you can't really talk to anyone or think much beyond where to put your feet while you're doing the drill, but you can transition. Welcome to conscious competence, when you're over the hump of stage two and you can start to see a way forward. Such a good feeling! Now, as long as you stick with it and keep going, you'll move up to the pinnacle, the stage we call....

Unconscious competence. Your body can move without your mind thinking about it. When it all seems to flow at a molecular level, and you can spin, transition, skate backwards and stop without nary a thought. Think about that start jammer in your league, who can transition at speeds you reckon you could maybe crack going forwards with a favourable wind. Think about watching Suzy Hotrod or Stefanie Mainey on DNN and wondering how the hell they manage to do that. Years of training and honing skills have got them to the point of unconscious competence and it's a place we can all get to with enough time and determination.

The reason I thought this was so useful as a coach and a skater is it's a reminder that just because something is difficult doesn't make it impossible. Bonnie Thunders wasn't born with an innate ability to do the things she does, it's come out of practice. So when we were doing transition drills yesterday at the rink, I decided to stop making excuses. I grit my teeth, and started transitioning on my "gumby" side. Time after time after time. I didn't let myself give up. Am I at unconscious competence? Not even close. But I'm definitely getting over the hump and I hope to be there by the end of the season. The fact I'm giving myself a long enough time frame means that I'm well aware of how hard I find it, but also that I know it's achievable.

The last part of this little lecture concerns how we feel when something is difficult. Teachers love acronyms, and we learned about NAK.

N- Notice your feelings. Does the drill make you anxious? Nervous? Will you find an excuse to check your pads, retie a lace, or talk to a latecomer if you're told you're doing it? Do you feel frustration rising when it's nearly your turn to go through the paceline? Identify how what you're doing makes you feel.

Unconscious competence, right there. Photo: Asa Frye

A- Accept them. There's nothing wrong with finding something difficult. Even if your coach is telling you the drill is silly and easy, it's OK for you to not enjoy it. You will find some drills and skills hard, if you don't you are a terrifying automaton that needs to be KILLED WITH FIRE.

K- Keep at it! Don't let that dislike of the drill or fear of failure stop you from succeeding. Think about how you can better improve. Can you talk to a sympathetic coach or a more experienced player and ask them to run through it again? Can you go to a public skate session and try it when there's nobody watching you? (this was me with swoops. Hours on a half-empty rink. Hours). I once watched a skater try a drill for about twenty minutes, failing over and over again but her determination and grit pushed through the frustration and anger at herself she obviously felt and she finally succeeded. It was glorious to watch and must have been even better to be the one succeeding.

With the new season upon us and new skaters joining the sport (HI!) I felt this was really useful to me as a coach and as a skater. I'd be really keen to hear your thoughts and any feedback you might have.

Skating! And Coaching!

After a lot of thinking and deliberating, I decided to ignore the advice of a medical professional and try out my skates at one of the fresh meat training sessions. After my successes on the bike, on foot and in the pool my leg felt pretty good and I figured the worst thing that would happen would be it would hurt too much and I'd have to take them off. As I'd lent them to someone to try out I had to wait for them to turn up at the rink. By the time they arrived I'd worked myself up into a little ball of nerves and stress. What if it hurt? What if I freaked out? What if someone hit me? When they finally arrived I had an overpowering urge to go and be by myself. I'm aware of the whole "get straight back on the horse" cliche that gets trotted out in times like this, but this was harder than other times I've hurt myself and just carried on. People kept talking to me (sorry if you were one of them) but I was pretty unresponsive and monosyllabic, being focused on Not Fucking This Up.

Hitting the rink was great though. It hurt a bit initially as my ankle settled into a new sensation, but after five minutes I had carefully set caution to the wind and did some fast laps. I may even have whooped in sheer exhilaration of being back on the track. There's something special about the feeling of going fast and low on skates that I've never felt on any other kind of transport, either self-powered or mechanical. You almost feel like you're flying at low altitude, no uncomfortable saddle, no cage around you, nothing beneath you but eight tiny wheels and the floor zipping past. The feeling of relief that I could still do it like I'd never been away was tremendous. 

There's a couple of things I can't do, knee falls are hard because of the flex required in the dropped ankle (found that out the hard way) and jumping is going to take some time, but it will happen. 

Just to make the weekend's derby-related happiness complete, yesterday I took my first-ever fresh meat coaching session on my own. When I signed up to take it I wasn't sure if I'd even be on skates, but I managed to go the whole two hours (ish) without pain or other incident. It was so much fun! I focused mainly on endurance training and taking the time to watch and feedback on each skater's stance and stride. There were TWENTY people who were happy to turn up to a Saturday afternoon session (so inspiring!) and everyone dug in and worked hard. I was so proud of all of them, especially when we did 25 laps. Quite a few got PBs and a couple got below the magical 5 minute mark. Given the amount of work they had done that day it was quite an achievement. 

What a Derby Cake of Win looks like
(from Charm City Rollergirls)

The final cherry on the derby Cake Of Win was at the end of the coaching session. As I'd lent my helmet to another skater, I hand't been on the track much (but had been on my skates the entire time, skating round the middle like a ref so certainly doing SOME exercise). By the time the freshies had finished their laps, I was aching to get out there and try it myself. Could I do it in under five minutes? Hell, could I do it AT ALL? As everyone else was stretching I threw caution to the wind and asked one to hold a stopwatch and the other to do some counting, and off I went. 

I'd told the class about muscle memory and the almost automatic stride you can have when you've practiced enough. Even after nearly three months, that stride was still there, in my bones, my muscles, my body. I barely felt the laps pass. My time was 4 minutes and 23 seconds, the second fastest time I've done at Papatoetoe. 

During this whole boring, painful saga I've changed my mind a few times on derby and my future in it. Not long ago I was convinced my skating days were over. Too many injuries, too much hard work, too much commitment. Now? I'm feeling way more positive about the whole thing. I'm thinking of my goals for next year, how much time I feel I can really commit to the sport, what I want out of it. But yeah, I think I'm staying with derby for now

Coaching

Best. Bout poster. Ever.

It's been a busy busy week here in The Land of Bruja. Back at training, working out really hard (when life gets stressful I reach for the sports bra), focusing on upcoming bouts and races, and entering a new stage in my derby career.

I've always been interested in coaching new skaters, and at the start of the year inquired about joining the coaching committee just to help out with the fresh meat. I was told I needed more experience (which I did), and with a post-season committee reshuffle, I found myself in an assistant coaching slot. Our new fresh meat intake started last night, and I was able to go along and help out.

What an opportunity! It's so energising to be with new people, hearing such an enthusiasm for our sport and drive to succeed. We had over 50 skaters start the course last night, and it's so exciting to think of them passing skills, learning to scrimmage, and joining the league. I like to think that teaching is something I can do pretty well (after all, I get a lot of practice) and I got some really positive feedback from both new recruits and other coaches alike.

I also found out that I am now OFFICIALLY Irn Bruja! The Master Roster has been updated and I am now the only official Irn Bruja in the whole world. That's pretty awesome to me, feels like I've, I dunno, arrived somehow? That I'm more legitimate? Sounds very petty I know, but there's something pretty cool about seeing my humble name and number on the same list as Bonnie D. Stroir, Atomatrix, and Suzy Hotrod.

There's me! Yay!

 To complete the derby week, I realised that my derbyversary was a couple of weeks ago. I was on stand down at the time so didn't really notice, but it's been a whole twelve months since I first strapped on a pair of shitty rental skates and wobbled my way around the rink, getting noisy encouragement from Bruizilla (BAM!). To think that in the last twelve months I've gone from thinking jeans were the best thing I owned to skate in, to being on the same team as my first coach, being on the travel team, and coaching myself, is pretty damn rad.
I think I've come pretty far in my first year, there's still so much to learn and the learning curve is still steep. However, I've still got the enthusiasm for playing and skating that I did when I first wobbled off the rink last July, babbling about how Bruizilla was totally awesome and I needed my own skates and when could I do it again bibble bibble. It's been an incredibly fraught year, in which things have changed for me A LOT (mostly good, but that good has come with lots of bad), but derby has helped provide a mental and physical buffer that has seen me get through it better than I would have otherwise. I've made a lot of friends, some very close (though as one pointed out "we only ever really talking about hitting people, does that count as conversation?") and now feel like I'm living in the right place for the first time in a very, very long time.

Did I mention I love this sport? I totally love this sport.