Rolling Forward

What a weekend.

Sunday started the way a lot of my days do now: awake in the middle of the night, writing my way to dawn. I geared up, took Nyx out, and rode to breakfast in a near-perfect New Mexico morning, cool enough for a jacket, but just barely. The kind of air that feels earned.

After that, I headed north to Los Alamos to check out a roller derby practice.

This all started a couple months back, when I was doing one-on-ones after returning to work. I’d only been in the role about a month before getting taken out by a car and disappearing for three. Came back too early, but bills don’t give a shit about recovery timelines.

In one of those conversations, a colleague mentioned she plays roller derby. Something about that hit me square in the chest. Not casual interest. Something deeper. The same pull I feel with motorcycles. One of those things that’s always been there, quietly waiting for me to give myself permission.

She saw it, too. Sent me the team’s contact info.

Fast forward to this weekend. I finally pulled the trigger. Ordered skates and pads, sent the email (of course, at some ungodly hour), and they got back to me right away. Welcoming. Open. No hesitation.

So I showed up. Not to skate yet, my face still hurts from surgery and I’m not about to wreck my lip, but just to meet them.

And yeah, I was nervous. I always am with new groups. Add being transgender in a women’s sport in today’s climate, and yeah… there was some weight there. But I’d already asked the question. Gave them every opportunity to shut the door.

They didn’t.

They opened it.

And when I got there? I was blown away. Incredible group of women. Welcoming, inclusive, and serious as hell about what they do. I sat there watching practice, talking, asking questions, feeling that spark build into something bigger.

Because this is how I operate. When something feels right, I don’t dip a toe in. I go all in.

And this feels right.

So here I am the next day, fired up, waiting on my gear so I can stop watching and start doing. Start building the skills. Start earning my place.

I haven’t skated seriously in decades. A little roller hockey thirty years ago. Some casual skating with the kids fifteen years back. I can move, I can push, I can stay upright, but graceful? Not even close.

Good. Challenge accepted.

I don’t know the rules. I’ll learn them.

I’m not in peak shape. I’ll fix that.

I’ve already started. Back in PT, I couldn’t even lift a five-pound dumbbell, so I used a one-liter syrup bottle. That’s where I started. Then fives. Eights. Tens. Now I’m working with twenties, adding squats, sit-ups, building core strength. Kettlebells are next. Skating will bring the cardio.

Step by step. Same as everything else.

And the best part? No pressure. They told me, more than once, that this is my derby journey. My pace. My timeline.

That hit.

Because this whole thing-recovery, identity, rebuilding, all of it-it’s mine. Always has been.

And let’s be honest… roller derby at almost fifty-four?

Yeah. That tracks.

Riding. Writing. Redefining.

Or maybe just—

Rising.