Food:
- 2 egg muffins, coffee with sugar free caramel macchiato creamer, banana?
- 6 Clif Shot Bloks (2 servings)
- beer
- Cheesy Penne with Broccoli, white wine
- NACHOS!!! Red Wine.
- Red Wine.
- the rest of the heart chocolates
- some dove dark chocolates
- Probably more red wine.
Exercise:
- 50 toe push ups
- 50 sit ups
- scrimmage
- Reilly walk
So I hit my breaking point yesterday. Which is probably a good thing, because maybe now I can finally move forward. I’m proud of how I played yesterday. I made lots of stupid mistakes, for which I have lots of stupid justifications. But I played my hardest, and I only gave up when I had to (and there were a couple of times my legs were so fatigued I had to give up.) I literally left it all on the track. More than once.
Yes, I had three(ish) very stupid cuts. I’m sitting here visualizing them. Why? I need to focus on what I did well. Those three cuts were the result of my body not reacting as quickly as my mind. My legs were lead.
Ever lit a real fire? Like when you camp? At the end of the night, the wood has burned and you’re left with wood coals? The dying embers of the fire? You blow on them and they ignite, only to burn out more thoroughly?
That was my legs yesterday. But I kept blowing on them and telling them to light it up again, and they did. There were two times my legs were lead and I gave up. My first jam and my last jam. Even though it was physical… it was mental.
My first jam was two jams, since I went to the box. And both jams were identical: I fought and fought and fought at the front and was stuck, stuck, stuck, until I broke through after the Fight Club jammer (first Cass, then Alpha.) Both jammers played “eat the baby” on me. I cut Cass. I don’t remember what happened with Alpha. I remember getting hit out and ending up at the back of the pack behind Queen. I tried getting by her once or twice and couldn’t, so I gave up and rolled there for maybe 3 seconds before the jam clock expired. Then I cried a lot.
It was just like… I’m almost there, almost there, almost there, then I got out and was pulled back in. Fuck. It’s how I feel about the whole situation. It was a physical manifestation of my mental state. Except that I gave up at the end. And sometimes I wonder why I don’t give up for real. Mostly I have. If I’m not going to get there, what am I fighting for? And I don’t think I’m going to get there, so… I’m lost. Jamming the first and second jam against Fight Club–ten fresh Fight Club skaters, all after me. (And they were, since both jammers pulled an “eat the baby.”) WTF did I think would happen? I did great. I fought and fought and fought and made those girls work to hold me. Ok, I never got out. But I literally left it all on the track. Physically, emotionally, I left it all there. And then I went back and did it again. And that time, I did get out, and there was no baby eating (though they tried.)
The last jam… I cut Cherry. Stupid. I was on a power jam and doing great, loving life, when I felt my legs go “FUCK YOU, MENACE!” and I went “shit.” Mentally, I gave up. Cherry hit me out and I cut her. Even if the Apex is a bitch for cutting, I should know better. I do. I was jumping back in bounds as she was rolling back, and my legs were tired and my attempt to stay out of bounds when I saw her rolling back was ineffective. So I went to the penalty box and proceeded to have an asthma attack. So I took my helmet off. For which I was scolded. I know I’m not supposed to do that. I’d already caused one scene Sunday, I didn’t need to cause another. Options were: puke, pass out, or take my helmet off so I could breathe. I chose oxygen and I chose correctly. And I put my helmet back on as soon as I could breathe. Safety, first, right? Even when you’re the jammer and safety means a two minute jammer penalty.
So, yes, a dramatic Sunday.
Saturday, I’m going to do it again. In a public, hour long Fight Club vs. The World scrimmage, I will jam for the world. And I won’t get out, and I won’t score, and it will be okay because I will leave it all on the track. Except next time, I’ll leave it all on the track in a “fuck yeah, bitches!” way instead of a sobbing in the corner way.
meanass 