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.

Benching and back on skates (nearly)

It's 5pm on a bank holiday Monday and the weekend has caught up with me in a big way. I consider it to have been a roaring success so I can not feel guilty about spending an afternoon feeling incapable of doing much more than sitting on the couch imbibing tea and listening to Attack and Release on loop.

This weekend it was the return of the AoteaRUMBLE derby training camp in New Plymouth. If you've never been to Taranaki, you should make the effort. It's a stunning part of the world, all rolling surf, gorgeous beaches and a mountain that looks like a child's drawing of what a mountain looks like, all perfect cone and draped in snow. I went last year after I'd been training for about three months and had a ball, and was really looking forward to it this year. The night before the camp they had an exhibition bout between various members of the New Zealand team going to Toronto, and I was asked to bench manage the white team (the "Possibles- something of a misnomer!) I'd helped bench manage a team before, back when I was in plaster with the Mysterious Scaphoid Break That Wasn't. This time though, I was going solo. I only knew some of the players, and I hadn't written the lineups. Tricky.

What derby helmets do when not used for derby

The game was good but sadly the Possibles failed to take the game to the Probables. We made some real gains in the second half but it wasn't enough. Personally though, it was pretty great getting to do something related to derby that was active and beneficial to the team. I was told by some players that I really rate and respect that I'd done a good job wielding the clipboard so I was pretty stoked to hear that!

Bench managing is pretty under-rated as a job and I learned a lot about the way the game is played and how teams should run and work together. Here are my Thinkings on bench managing:

• You are the calm centre of the universe as far as the bench is concerned. Skaters coming off the track are tired, their mind is on the last jam, the next jam, that bitch that hit them out, that ref call they didn't like. It's your job to be as calm and zen as you can be so that they have a better chance of being able to refocus in time for their next jam. Shouty frustrated bench managers will make a situation worse, not better. 
• Watch your players, not the game. Try to see when a player looks tired, in need of a break or even a change in pack rotation. Ask them what they need, but remember that sometimes pride and loving the game can overcome common sense. 
• Be flexible. That set of lineups you and the captain came up with will work for about six jams. Players hit the box. Players get cramp. A pairing might not be working out. Whatever. Be prepared to use your knowledge of the players to change your lineups as you need to. Sticking rigidly to the script can be disastrous.
• Take charge, but ask for feedback. There's nothing wrong with asking a jammer who she wants as her tailgunner if you're going for the flexible option, especially if you're coming into a team cold. However, remember that you have an important role to play and that you need to own that role. Be firm if you need to with players whose heads are elsewhere but don't be a dick about it.
• Establish what your players need from you. Some incredibly tight, experienced teams only need you there to count the number of players on the pivot line and to confirm what they know already. Others might be looking to you to give exact positions and reassurance. If you're really not sure what your team wants from you, talk to the team when they're not in full flow. 
• Keep an eye on your penalties, especially for jammers. If they're on their third minor, make damn sure they're not out on the jam line for that critical power jam you need to win the game. 

I appreciate that bench managing a game like last night's isn't like your usual home or travel team game (usually you know your players way better) but I took a lot from the experience and hope to get another crack at it at some point. 

This was taken today. Scar looks good,
swelling less so.

I left New Plymouth early (no skating and some rugby match that was on hastened my departure) and with my feelings about derby changed. To see so many skaters on Sunday morning, working their asses off and enjoying each other's company, was pretty joyous. I loved catching up with old friends, talking about skating (and other things) and the sense of camaraderie that comes with the sport. Everyone I spoke to was sympathetic to my mixed feelings about a return to blocking but fairly confident I wouldn't be able to stay away for long. However, my aversion to the jammer pantie has been agreed to be a necessary survival instinct that should be obeyed.

It's weird, having this amount of time to think something over. I've been out of skating just over two months now and it'll be the 2012 season before I'm ready to play again. That's a fair chunk of time! However, hopefully next week I'll get a feel for what it's like to get out on the rink, assuming the doctor gives me the green light to put my skates on again. I'm pretty excited at the idea to tell you the truth, as well as a bit apprehensive. Here's hoping the appointment tomorrow goes well, I get a referral for some physio (finally) and the greenlight to go do some exciting things in the very near future! A friend of mine took me out to the Woodhill mountain bike trails this morning (miraculously hangover free) and I had a go at seeing how my ankle would cope with being on the bike and being off-road. It went better than I'd feared (five minutes out the car park and I'm in agony), not as good as I'd hoped (absolutely no issues at all and able to go all day). As exercise for my ankle (and the rest of me- my cardio needs some work!) it was great, as a confidence builder it was excellent. I have a bit more faith in what my body can and will be able to do, and getting out into the forest and really letting go on the downhill silly bits was liberating, a bit terrifying and made me more determined than ever to get back to my previous fitness and beyond it. The same friend (who's running the Auckland marathon next weekend- best of luck to you dude!) suggested I consider taking part in a triathlon next year. This is happening at Maraetai in March and I think I might enter in the sprint tri category. All the distances are achieveable (hell, I'm swimming 2k already!) and it would be happening just over six months after the accident, giving me something really positive to work towards. Definitely thinking about it!

I

Day 1- And so it begins!

I don't know if anyone is going to read this. To be honest, I'd been toying with the idea of starting a blog this year for personal use anyway, but in a fit of ego decided to tell other people about the url. So if you're here, hey!

The aim of this really is to document my diet and fitness over the 2011 derby season. I've flirted with keeping diet journals and blogs before, but having recently rediscovered my enjoyment of just jotting stuff down I felt like I should make more of a concerted effort this year. Feck knows if I'll stick with it, but I'm a big girl now and should be able to manage a little commitment, surely?

I'd like to emphasise that this is not a calorie and cookie blog. I don't weigh myself, I don't obsess, I'm not about trying to squish myself into a stupidly inappropriate dress size. No, this, like everything else in my life at the moment, is about roller derby.

A little background. Back at the end of 2006 I topped the scales at a grossly unfunny 121kg. Looking back on it now it's hardly surprising as my diet was pretty disgusting, but at the time my denial was so strong you could make a series of Egypt-related drowning jokes out of it. Eventually, my denial became horror, which became crying in supermarkets and ended up at gritting my teeth and deciding that SOMETHING needed to be done. I tried LighterLife for a few weeks, and lost some weight. I decided to come off the program as a) it cost about $150 a week and b) the group therapy thing was nice but really not for me. However, losing some weight almost immediately let me know that I COULD lose weight (which is where previous dieting efforts had failed) and that all I needed to do was persevere.

So I did. I stopped buying huge packets of junk food. I quit sitting on the couch snacking every evening. I quit buying beer and finding excuses to drink it when I got home. I quit my long term relationship that just wasn't working. My mountain bike came out of storage and got serious use. I stopped being afraid of exercise, started enjoying what my body could do.

I feel like I totally wasted my early 20's, but then isn't that what they reckon that's what your early 20's are for? Whatever, I feel like an idiot for spending my prime feeling winded and covered in chins.

In July 2010, roller derby happened to me. It was falling in love again, complete with funny sweaty smells and inexplicable bruises. Since I decided to lose weight I'd tried my hand at scenario paintball for a year, become a regular gym-goer, practiced yoga, become passable at rock climbing and enjoyed all of them, but this was different. It was like I'd finally found the reason I'd been doing all this. It was a reason to get fit, not to eat that muffin. It was (and is) bloody awesome.

As of December 2010 I weigh 84kg. I've lost almost a third of myself and I don't miss me at all. My goal for this year is not a weight or a dress size, it's to eat right, work hard and get better in my skating, my derby and my general fitness and diet.

I thought a good way of tracking progress would be to take full-body shots every month or so, wearing the same kind of clothes so I have a little record of how I'm doing. I'll be keeping a wee track of what I'm eating and what I'm doing to burn off the eating, and tapping out thoughts on how I feel about what I'm doing, about derby, teaching, and whatever else floats across my field of interest.

So, day one. First time on skates this year, and I was quite pleased that I was able to do two round of at least 25 laps of the derby rink in 5 minutes. The first one I totally muddled my lap counting but the second one was 27 laps in 5 minutes (I need to be able to do 25). It felt pretty good to be able to do it after a couple of weeks away from skating, I'd been worried that I'd have lost my skate fu but it looks like I'll be back on form pretty quickly. I skated for about 2 hours total, most of that at a comfortable pace, with lots of transition (skating backward) practice, swoops, milk bottles etc. thrown in there.

Food-wise, we woke to no bread or milk so brekkie was a Primo Extremo breakfast milkshake. Lunch was a scoop of "energy booster" fruit and nut mix from the supermarket, and a couple of apples from the fridge did as snacks. For dinner I made pumpkin and eggplant curry (this recipe, only add an eggplant to the pumpkin mix, and brown an onion and add to the low-fat coconut milk. I also added some fresh chillis as I like some heat to my food and had run out of ginger and chickpeas. It tasted a bit different to the delicious original but still very tasty!) and had a couple of slices of brown bread to go with it. I've drank loads of water and had a few cups of tea (trim milk, no sugar).

So, here's to 2011 and hopefully a brilliant year. Just over a month until I sit my skills test, and then, the WORLD!