I just published that last blog, but I wrote it several days ago.
Now to tell you about all my fun.
On Sunday evening, I went to a fundraiser for my friends' football team. It was held at a roller skating rink. I was so excited about it that I was embarrassingly early. I came prepared with thick socks, cash for games and raffles, and freshly shaved legs in case paramedics had to cut my pants off. I paid $5 to get in- skate rental included. I sat down to put the skates on, and immediately thought I had lost my damn mind. Wheels under your FEET? What jackass came up with this plan?
I tottered over to my friends' table to deposit my shoes, then clomped my way across the carpet, grabbing hold of the wall or small children whenever necessary. I took a breath, hoped for non-ambulance injuries, and wobbled out onto the rink floor. It was surprisingly difficult to remember how to skate, which I think I last did somewhere around 1996. I took a turn around and remained upright, but the effort involved was exhausting, and all I did was wobble. Cristine wobbled with me for a few laps, then took a break. It was really hard on the feet, which I didn't remember. It took probably 20 laps before I regained the smoothness. It would have been neat to watch- I couldn't believe my transition from Weeble Wobble to glider. I reminded myself that pride comes before a cracked elbow, and focused on balance, body, and navigating the floor.
Navigation was crucial, with all the kids and adults- skill level for both ranging from PVC-training-frame-on-wheels to backwards skaters. The DJ played what Tracy tells me is the Cha Cha Slide, and most participants were in the center of the floor. Some were still skating the loop. When the song said hop, the woman in front of me shouldn't have. Her feet shot out and she went down hard. I steered around her, and one of the football players skating past me looked over and said, "I think she kind of deserved that."
There were plenty of falls, but I stayed on my feet, and only almost self-sabotaged once. It felt good to be in control of my body. It felt so fantastic that I stayed out on the floor for as much of that two hours as I could physically stand, which I'm proud to say was most of it. As soon as I had gulped down some water or entered a raffle, I was edging back towards the floor. It was just the best feeling to be out there- this pendulum easily swinging me back and forth, all the way up through my shoulders in time to fun pop songs that felt like anthems. It was exhilarating.
And good grief, what a workout. My blood sugar was dipping when I was putting my skates on, so I popped a few glucose tabs and went off in search of a Snickers. I had brought trail mix, but couldn't fathom digging my fingers into the bag after touching those skates. I found a Snickers in the vending machine, but realized too late that it was one of those dark versions that has no peanuts, and therefore no protein. I almost bought a hot dog before my sanity returned (and that's saying something, because I'll eat a hot dog from almost anywhere). I ate half of that candy bar, skated for at least 40 minutes, then came back and ate the other half and skated another 40 minutes, all without touching any insulin. Think about it- that chocolate bar was all caramel and nonsense, and by the time Natalia, Amanda, and I regrouped at a place to eat dinner (and totally negate our workout) about half an hour later, my blood sugar was 140. I looked it up yesterday- one hour of roller skating burns about 480 calories. Rollerblading burns almost twice that.
I was ravenous, and after (a protein-filled) dinner, I ate a ridiculous, completely unsensible dessert and savored every bite. That's chocolate and cake batter yogurt with smashed Butterfinger and chocolate nonpareils. Fucking fantastic.
It took hours to stop grinning. I had such a good time that I have been Googling skates to buy. There's an adult night at the rink, but not "adult" like beer and dildos, just 18 and up. One of the football players is a regular there (She's got some badass Hello Kitty skates), and she says people come to show off their moves. Sounds awesome, and I may have to go.
Ok, but that's only Sunday. Now I have to tell you about Monday.
On Monday, I had my first tennis lesson in... uh... many years. Holy shit, just as much fun as I remember. I am so goddamn excited. I signed up for the beginner's camp, because it has been so long, but I remembered a lot, and found that I still have the exact same problems. It was amazingly satisfying, and I didn't care if I made the shots or that it was 90 degrees out there- I had fun. I learned and I tried and I met new people. I ran and I reached for that ball, and surprised myself at how often I caught it. The instructor was effective and efficient, and handed out personalized instructions and praise, even among seven students. He said the ratio is usually six students to a teacher, so they'd try to work something out, but I was impressed by his multitasking skills.
I don't have a racket, but the guy who signed me up said they had loaners available. I was expecting some leftover from 1982, but apparently they sell Wilson products, so the racket I played with was the Juice. That's right, the Juice 100 Lite. It was a delightful racket, and it should be- for the $180 it costs. Luckily, there are also last year's demo models for $60, which I will try out at tomorrow's lesson if it's not rained out.
I actually got a call from the instructor this evening. Apparently, there was only one student who showed up for the intermediate class. Since we had so many in the beginner's class, and since my skills- ahem- warrant moving to a higher level, would I like to switch to the intermediate class? The flattering, higher level class with fewer students when the sun is lower? Hell yeah! I'll move up after one beginner's lesson! Excuse me, Serena 2 coming through...
Yeah, yeah, pride comes before tennis elbow, so I'd better learn to follow through on my swing and maybe tennis too, and perhaps roller skating, and did I tell you that I signed up for softball?
