Bruja Vs the Beast

It had to happen sometime. A couple of posts ago I wrote a holding post, about how I was so busy with derby that I hadn't had time to update my derby blog. For the next few months, pretty much every day on my calendar has a derby-related event on it. those that don't have countless e-mails, to-do list items, derby washing, IM chats, facebook messages, follow-up phone calls and hotpant washing tacked on to them. It's become a slightly obsessive girlfriend, sport, second job and religion all rolled into one. 

Last weekend, Frida Beater and Assaultin' Pepa from reigning WFTDA champions Rocky Mountain Rollergirls were here to deliver an intensive two day bootcamp, and then take our Monday night practice. The training was incredibly useful and very intense, I survived day one mostly intact but a couple of hours in I took a hit and landed on my tailbone (which I hit so hard on Wednesday I felt like I was going to be sick from the pain). I took the hint and took off the skates, and watched for the rest of the day. I learned a lot, took a lot of notes....and that was my weekend. It felt like it disappeared in a second. 

I was all revved up to go to training last night, to get the most out of the opportunity of having these amazing skaters in NZ, but I was so tired that I got home from a (very tiring, stressful) day at work, and fell asleep for a few hours. Not half an hour, not an hour. Three hours. I woke up feeling panicked. I'd missed training! Why was it dark? What the hell? 

 I ended up canning practice in the end, even though I could have made it. There was a film showing as part of Outtakes (the NZ Queer Film Festival) that some friends of mine were going to, and in the end I went with them instead. The film (Too Much Pussy, about a queer performance art road trip, seeing as you asked) was OK, but the weird thing? (weirder than the film, anyway) I felt guilty. I kept checking my watch, wondering if I'd be able to pop into the rink after the film and catch some of the practice. I felt like I was somehow wrong for not going,

Nobody made me feel guilty. Not one person has said anything to me to suggest that my fervour is somehow lacking, that I am failing to keep the faith. But I feel guilty. 

At what point do you say enough? Today, I spent about three hours writing various emails to people and talking to others about fairly important things to do with the league. Six months ago I hadn't scrimmaged, a year ago I hadn't even heard of roller derby but here I was, staying late in work to write up stuff for something that might not even happen but what the hell, it's worth a shot. 

I feel like I'm coming to a reckoning with derby, or the start of many reckonings. Part of me wants to throw myself to the monster and let it take me completely. In a way, there's a lot to commend it. 

• I'd get really good (hopefully)
• It takes away any and all uncertainty ("what am I doing tonight?" no longer becomes an issue)
• The people who are roller derby tend to be pretty cool people to hang out with. 
• I really, really love the sport and love doing something positive for it.

Compelling, non? So, what's the issue? 

• I don't want my passion to be my identity. 
• I know that derby isn't forever (no, really!). I don't want it to be everything, and then have nothing when injury/circumstance/stupidity on my part forces me off the rink. 
• There's so much else I want to do!

I feel like sometimes I'm neglecting all the other stuff I like doing. Like writing (I know, it's about derby. Be quiet), teaching, riding my motorbike for reasons other than free parking in town, getting involved in some politics/activism here, doing something a bit more....enjoyably cerebral is the best way to describe it I suppose. I don't want to be just a skater, but finding time to flesh myself out beyond my job and my sport seems to require sacrificing sleep and that is something I value pretty highly, given that I no longer seem able to burn the candle at both ends (not that I ever did, I just failed at working).

So, to surrender to the beast or pull back and find time to do other things? 

I had hoped that writing this would help with the decision. Given the number of tabs I have open about gear, bout reports, training and such, I think I know which way it'll go...

Highway to the danger zone

I had my six-week check in with my PT at my gym today. It was an interesting chat to say the least.

First off, the good stuff. Blood pressure outrageously good. Resting heart rate so resting it's almost asleep, and apperently my thighs have lost 5cm off them since I started (everything else has gone down a fraction too). Nice to know that I'm doing alright, despite the ups and downs of the last few weeks!

Then came the interesting bit. I'd kept a food and exercise diary for the last few days, just to show her. I'd been feeling a bit low energy recently, and I was concerned that my diet wasn't right for the amount of exercise I'm doing at the moment (derby up to four times a week, weights 3 times a week, classes at the gym 1-2 times a week). Anyway, she pulled a bit of a face when she saw it, and asked if that really was everything that I was eating. Apparently I've been eating WAY less than I should be for someone of my activity level, which came as a bit of a surprise. To give you an idea, here's the breakdown for Tuesday:

Breakfast: 2x slices wholemeal bread with crunchy peanut butter, coffee (skim milk)
snack: banana, apple
Lunch: same as for breakfast
Dinner: chickpea and tomato curry (vegan), 2 slices wholemeal bread
Naughty thing: bar of chocolate (Tuesday was a stressed out day)

I figured that was an OK diet, mixture of proteins and carbs, and that it wasn't too low. Uh, no. Apparently, to MAINTAIN my current weight, I need to eat about 2,900 calories every day. That's about 900 more than the recommended intake for women my age. The amount that I put away on Tuesday? At a rough calculation, about 1700. So yeah, if I wasn't exercising so hard, then all good. As it is, it's not so good. No wonder I've been below-par. And factor in that most days there isn't a chocolate bar in there, and you have some stuff to work out.

I've been sent away with instructions to eat more (eggs, tofu, porridge for breakfast), have some supper after training, more veggies, and to buy some protein powder for after workouts so that my body is eating something useful (and not, say ITSELF). It was good to get a fresh pair of eyes to look at my diet, but at the same time a bit scary.

So here's the thing.

In the years since I hit my top weight, I have constantly been losing weight. Steadily, slowly, evenly, but it's come down steadily. When it hasn't, it's because I've been putting on muscle. For the most part, I've been fine with that. When I was with my ex partner, he cooked the meals and I ate pretty well. big portions, lots of healthy stuff (living with a vegetarian weightlifter who loves cooking means you eat good food). Since I started to live by myself though, food's gone back to being fuel. I rarely cook from scratch, and when I do it's a big load of chana dal or veggie chili for me to slowly consume over the next few days until I'm sick of it. If I don't have someone to eat with, I just don't eat. And to be honest, being told to eat more squicks me out a bit.

I'm frightened.

Frightened of what? Control, and the loss of. When I was getting fat, I never thought about what was going in. I ate anything and everything. Hell, I'd eat stuff I didn't like that much because it was there. I had an appetite that, looking back, horrifies me slightly. To go from glutton to gym-goer required a HUGE shift in outlook. to see the value of not eating, as well as eating. To understand that inconsiderate eating affects your body in big ways. That you don't always need a chocolate bar after work. To have such a huge shift in outlook is very difficult to do cleanly, without any leftover issues. And so it is with me. I'm worried. Worried that if I increase my intake, I won't be able to stop increasing. That I'll pile it back on. That I'll lose the control over my eating again. I'm having to take a step back and remind myself that yes, my diet at the moment is fine, but only if I wasn't doing all the training, the weights, the derby. As it is, I'm not gassing up the tank enough and it's OK to eat more. Not loads, but some.

The realisation that I'm afraid of eating more is something of a slap in the face. I feel like I've just been told something dark about myself, that I knew and didn't want to acknowledge. I  wouldn't say I have an eating disorder, but for the first time I'm aware of the potential within myself to use food as a control, to go from eating healthily to hurting myself. The fact this week has been pretty hard-going has, I think, exacerbated my unconscious need to hold onto my diet.

Today opened up a big can of worms, and it's clearly something I have to keep an eye on. This evening I did better, had 4 rather than 2 slices of toast with my pumpkin soup for one (man, do I sound sad), and a couple wholemeal pitta bread after training (which was ace).

I'm seeing my PT again tomorrow, to go over the revised program she's made for me (my shoulder problems not being helped by my original program), so will talk more about it with her then. But for now, sleep, and eating a bigger breakfast in the morning.