Girls on wheels

Honestly, when Rena first told me she joined Bismarck’s newly formed roller derby team “for the exercise,” I wasn’t sure what to make of it. People join the gyms for the exercise. People join roller derby for the attention, for the adventure, or to shock some undeserving ex.

The problem was, Rena was an unlikely candidate for any of my attention/adventure/shock theories. She’s a nice woman. She lives where she was raised and likes to knit. I met her through her Mom. She’s happily married as far as I know—in fact I think her husband bought her wheels.

And an attention hound? Like the kind of girl you find outside during a party sitting on the curb crying, surrounded by concerned girlfriends?

No. That’s not Rena.

So, I connected with her and the new BisMan Bombshellz on Facebook and followed as they talked about learning to skate, bake sale fund raisers, and boot camps. I watched as Facebook names morphed: Rena became Anne Thrax;  Tara became Jewce E., etc.

I told Rena I thought she was cool. She told me I should join the roller derby. “You know you want to.”

But I am too old and rickety. I have this bad back…

…and, well, long story short, I signed up to be a referee about a week later. As a ref, I can skate, practice with the team, and get my own badass derby name (currently taking suggestions).  Plus, nobody bumps into me on purpose.

I observed my first practice Wednesday night at a local school gymnasium, and that’s what I really want to talk about:

Practice amounts to an hour of stretching and strengthening followed by an hour or so of skating. Nothing remarkable about that, but the SPIRIT of practice is unforgettable.  Imagine going back to high school PE class, on a day when all the popular girls and your PE teacher have all bussed off to Fargo for some cheerleading thing. The substitute teacher isn’t empowered enough to enforce many dress or conduct codes either.

What’s that leave? It leaves all the quirkiest girls behind, in their most comfy clothes, free from feeling judged for once. They work hard. They cuss. They laugh. They hug. They don’t notice who did 20 push ups and who only mustered 1.

It’s like that. Only they aren’t high school girls. They are grown women, grown tattooed women, many with small children running in and out of the gym.

“Aren’t you even a little concerned about whether I’ll be fit enough to ref an entire bout?” I ask Jewce E., the volunteer coordinator.

“No. Most of us couldn’t even skate a couple months ago.”

Then she adds, “I’m really glad you signed up.”

Me too. At 49, I will be the oldest lady at practice starting Sunday (most appear to be in their 30s or younger), and I’m not even a little worried about that.

You see where all this is going, right? An environment where you can work out, play, make friends, cuss, dress how you want, and not feel self-conscious? PE teachers and gym owners everywhere, take note. The BisMan Bombshellz got it all over you.

I’m joining the roller derby for the exercise.