Lesson #5 - You're an Athlete Damnit!

Derby's middle name is Contact Sport, so at some point plan on making a trip to the doctor's office... unless of course you're a superhuman, in which case please tell me your secret. I will pay.

I'm in blue =)

Halfway through my first season, terrible, mind-numbing aches and pains racked my right shoulder. It felt like a giant ball nestled underneath my shoulder blade, forcing it to push off my ribcage and attempt to escape from my back all together. I couldn't sleep; my mood was also constantly on edge. Compare the feeling to a migraine, something only you can feel and nobody else can see.

So I broke down and went a physical therapist. Okay my doctor actually sent me for my TMJ disorder (my jaw clicks/dislocates when I chew) and I just happened to throw my shoulder ache into the conversation. Begin three months of worthless therapy.

Now keep in mind while you're reading this, I have a huge bias against the physical therapist I went to. They took advantage of the fact I have insurance, even to the extent of misdiagnosing me to prolong my treatment/office visits. I don't think I've ever been more pissed off at the medical industry before in my life. All that aside though... I do whole heartedly believe in the work of GOOD physical therapists.

P.T. (even though it does take a few visits) retrains your muscles/body to fix whatever is causing your pain. EX. I had no idea that crossing one leg over the other screws up my back alignment; or typing with my torso twisted ever so slightly messes my muscles up.

Okay, on with the story. So a month into my physical therapy, aka one hour shoulder massage sessions, my shoulder still ached like crazy. My physical therapist thought herself nothing short of God, so instead of approaching my continued pain with the idea of "Maybe there's something else causing this pain other than her shoulder," or "Maybe there's a better approach to her treatment than what I've been doing;" she shot me down everytime saying my pain would never go away until I quit roller derby.

So much manlier than my doctor...

Yeah, I held back the F-bomb. Quit roller derby? That's an insult worse then telling a new mother her baby is hideous and should be given up for adoption. And you know why she suggested this?

Three hypotheses:

1.) She didn't want to admit she was wrong. Instead she chose to shift blame from her expert diagnoses to my own neglect (which is bull honkey because this whole time, I had been sitting out of drills with shoulder contact, doing my stretches, using a heat pad, and regularly icing my afflicted area.)

2.) My therapist was stuck in society's warped gender restrictions. Females aren't athletes; roller derby isn't a real sport. She was disgusted with me for refusing to give up something she merely viewed as a disposable hobby.

3.) I did not communicate my passion for roller derby correctly. Even though it seemed like that's the only thing we would talk about in our sessions, I failed to relay "I'M AN ATHLETE LADY!" and need to be treated as such.

Like This!

In the end it turned out my therapist was wrong and I actually have a condition called scoliosis* caused from sitting awardly at my desk job for eight hours a day the past three years. I called them morons and switched physicians.

*Scoliosis is a curvature of the spine. My lower back twists to where the left side raises out further and pushes the right side in, causing my right shoulder to overcorrect the spinal twist before it reaches my neck; and thus, causing me pain. When I was diagnosed correctly, it only took one treatment for me to feel relief.

The lessons I have for you:

-I am an athlete. At first I let my doctor convince me derby qualifies as nothng more than recreation. No matter what physical activity you do whether it be roller derby, running, rugby, etc., if you are passionate about it and the sport adds to your quality of life, consider youself an full-fledged athlete. Nobody said you have to make a living with a sport to attain the title.  

- If a treatment is not improving your conditions (within a reasonable timeframe) and you are following all the regiments lined out for you (ex. no contact, strengthening exercises), make sure to speak up. I was too timid when I should have voiced my opinion. I was paying for the treatment and should have had a say in it. Also don't be afraid to get a second opinion. A true professional will not be offended by this decision... and seriously if you or your insurance are going to be shelling over thousands of dollars like I did, it's a fiscally wise move.

- Lay down the law and set goals. Right off the bat tell your doctor you are an athlete and should be treated no different than the over-paid indoor football team they treat. Most patients they see in a day are geriatric, recovering from intense surgery, or "inactive"; physicians have unfortunately grown accustomed to this type of treatment level. Shake them out of that stereotype and let them know they need to raise the bar and get you back in action as fast as humanly possible.

Remember above all else you know your body. If something hurts, get it fixed. If you need to sit out a game, sit out! While healing quickly and committing fully to a healing regime is ideal; don't overdo it and make an injury worse or, Chuck Norris forbid, permanent.

Live to play another game!

The Hoff wants you to play again!

Lesson #4 - Let Your Feet Decide

There are some moves, particularly the tomahawk 180 turn, that took FOREVER for me to learn. For two weeks straight, spectators at the local roller rink could witness me practicing slow turns repeatedly like a weird, friendless loner at the empty end of the rink. Eventually, I mastered it and now pull off beautiful turns.

While I felt accomplished by learning my tomahawks, I wished the time learning it could've been shorter. That's when a lightbulb went off. I'd heard of bootcamps where they taught stops off skates, so why not learn everything off skates first?

I can't even count the number of times I tried a new move on my skates and promptly tripped over myself because my weight wasn't distributed correctly on my wheels.

This should be a warning at all rinks.

So now with this new idea to nip those awkward spills in the butt, I tried backwards walking, backwards jumping, one-legged 180 jumps, anything I could think of really. Each move I took careful note of where on my weight was balanced on every small part of my foot and how it transitioned throught the skill. And you know what? It worked like a charm. Granted I still needed to practice on my skates to really hone in the technique, in the end it took me less time and less practice to nail a move.

Oh yeah that's totally me.

So next time you have two left skates and nothing is working right, take those puppies off and concentrate on how you normally balance when doing things without skates, because eventually you want your skating to be as natural as walking.

Walking barefoot in grass = AWESOME!

Lesson #3 - Make Friends Part 1

If you're in derby, I highly suggest you make as many graphic designer friends as possible. You will never regret it and they'll save your ass more times than not.

Two bonuses to having these connections:

1.) You get stunning work from the heart. They know you and your personality. As long as you're not a complete raunch, chances are their friendship with you and passion for graphic designing will translate into the result.

2.) You get it for free =) Graphic designers are pricey, but as long as you compensate them after in some way, they're more than happy to do it. For example I made sure I had extra vinyls printed off for my friend Eric to see his artwork in action.

But absolutely remember, even though these folks are your friends, this is still their profession. NEVER EVER IN A ZILLION YEARS  be a graphic design bitch-zilla. Sure a correction here or there is fine and even welcomed, but nit picking every little thing will only result in friendship resentment. Also never put them on a strict time-frame. If a paying job comes up, they have mouths that need fed, which may require putting your project off until their free-time (all the more reason to constantly thank them).

Whenever you get a chance, plug their designer name too! They deserve it and any other projects you might bring their way.

Check out the designs below some of my good buds have done for me. And who knows, maybe even contact them for a quote on some stunning work of your very own.

My VLEO Logo.

Eric Lewis (a friend from my old band promotion days) did this one for me from scratch. I had giant vinyl decals made with this that now adorn both sides of my helmet; and I get compliments on them all the time.

TEAM USA International T-Shirt Logo

My friend Morgan Jones from highschool drew this diddy up for Team USA while he was living the dream in Hawaii. You can actually still purchase these alternative tees online and help fund Team USA's travel to the world cup in a few weeks!

Awesome portrait.

This little beauty actually just made it's way to me today. A fellow derby enthusiast Sean Ball penned this awesome likeness of me from some of my old facebook derby photos. It's supposed to be a belated part of my Trickeration Award present from our recently passed end of season banquet.


*If you would like to reach any of these designers,please email me and I'll put you in touch: katiemaepeters@gmail.com

*Also if you would like to purchase posters or stickers of my logo or portrait Sean did email me as well. All proceeds go to funding my derby career (specifically my travel to Toronto in three weeks for the roller derby world cup. YAY!).

Lesson #2 - Carry Spares

It was our season ender against the Choice City Rebels; the score showed us ahead by 20 points with only three minutes left in the game.

"Katie, killer," my coach assigned.

I took my place on the track, sized up the surrounding blockers, and began skating at the sound of the jam ref's whistle. Then the double whistle sounded; the jammers raced toward me. Mine whizzed by me on the inside path I left open for her. The other team's jammer tried for the same track, but I slammed my hips to the side, closing the path and throwing her off balance before she could get through.

A battle of plowstops and heavy juking quickly ensued. The opposition's blockers caught on, immediately dropping back to open a hole. By the time we've completed of full lap, the other jammer finally got by as a battle of resistance had begun between me and another blocker. I put all my weight on my outside skate, digging the wheels into the ground to stay in bounds. And then without any warning I flew down towards the ground. Taught to quickly recover I jumped up on my toestops and thrust my body forward, only to feel my left foot drag under me and pull me down again. Thinking I had simply not distributed my weight correctly, I jumped up to try again, only for my left ankle to go all wonky and take my body plummeting to the ground with it once more.

Confused I crawled my way into the infield to assess the damage.

Broken Ankle - No (Phew)

All Eight Wheels - Check

Snapped Front Left Skate Truck - Yep

After the game. If you look closely you can see where the truck is seperated from my plate.

Disheartened, I had no option but to watch from our team bench for the last two minutes of the bout (okay part of that time was spent in the penalty box for accuring a fourth minor). BUT this taught me an amzing lesson.

1) Bring spare, FLOOR-READY, EVERYTHING. While I did have a spare set of GT-50's with me, my super soft/slick outdoor wheels hugged tightly to the bearings (say goodbye to stability and control). Not even close to a competitive wheel I'd want to use on the polished concrete that night. If I had broken this earlier in the game I had no spare trucks in my skate bag to replace it either. Now I have spare parts for every square inch of my skates.

2) Being the captain gave me a definite ego boost, but watching my team hold off the opposition the last few moments from the sidelines instead of skating with them on the track, taught me something much greater. It taught me to TRUST MY TEAMMATES TO GET THE JOB DONE. The last jam they skated out with every once of faith and hope I possessed, and I watched them pull off the win. Easily the most incredibly, amazing, humbling event for me this year.

Lesson #1 - Yes it up

What better way to start this blog off than telling you how I became involved in roller derby. In the not so distant past, September 2010 to be exact, I sat in the greenroom of the community theatre Stage III and waited for my fellow cast members to show up. Having the insatiable metabolism I do, I started poking around to see what leftover snacks I could devour.

That's when I came across it - an April edition of the Casper Journal. I'm both disgusted and grateful by how lazy my fellow actors were; by some karmic coincidence this paper had survived countless theatre cleanings and the multitude of destructive forces that rip through that place. And now I held it in my hands reading a story about a casper roller derby team.

So I'm just going to admit it and shatter your hopes before they get too out of control; I am not hip nor will I ever be. (I blame it on the fact that my mother cut my hair into a mullet for the first 12 years of my life insisting she was giving me a "fuller set of bangs").


*DISCLAIMER* This is not an actual picture from my tainted youth, but it looked pretty damn close.

I hadn't seen Whip It or Kansas City Bomber, I wasn't that huge into boy-ish contact sports, and I definitely didn't even know what a huge fucking deal this sport had become in the US over the past 5 or so years...

But still something about it clicked. Granted I've always been an EXTREMELY random person who jumps at the chance for just about anything to broaden my young horizon, but this gave me goosebumps. This was the first goal I wanted to try where I thought I just might actually fail; so I kept it a secret.

The first daunting challenge I faced was contacting the team. The version of the story that was printed contained very few details, no team name, no email, no website; a reference to USARS created my only clue (little did I know the whole story, chalk full of team details was on the Journal's website). So after tracking down a league list for Wyoming on the interwebs, and the list having no details of which team was actually Casper's, I ended up writing like ten thousand people, just to make sure I could get the right one... I get antsy sometimes =)

Less than 24 hours later I had my response:



Do you like my clever blackout marks? Totally did that in Microsoft Paint... bringin' back the 90's.

Little did I know this email would change my life forever. And even reading it now I get kinda choked up (but not choked up enough to refrain from giving you the finger if you mock my girlish tears of joy). This was just the beginning though. If you stick around this blog long enough I might just tell you my whole story... including when I realized I couldn't actually skate.

Oh! How could I forget! Your lesson for the day!

Be a "Yes" Man... er Woman... Person! (Gotta appeal to all the demographics if I expect this blog to succeed ;)

Don't ever ask questions, just do it! If you're already questioning, you're already doubting, and doubting just shits all over the rainbow of potential and success. Keep the rainbow clean! Don't give yourself any excuses to not take on a challenge, no matter how daunting. Plus if you end up failing, just do what I do and tell people you had a gas leak in your apartment that made you temporarily remedial.