When I was a little girl, I owned a pair of roller skates. They were white with three stripes of purple, pink, and blue on the outside of both skates. The shoelaces and wheels were purple. The skates were a Size 6, so I imagine I only had them for a brief time when I was maybe 8 or 9. It's funny how I can remember the skates, but I can't remember exactly how old I was when I wore them.
And I totally rocked those skates. I remember coming home after school during the week and on Saturday mornings, sitting on the front steps to lace the skates up, and then tentatively pushing myself off the steps in an effort to avoid falling immediately. The sidewalk in front of my parents' house was perfect for skating: smooth, straight, and unobstructed. There were a few minor cracks and bumps in the sidewalk, but nothing a little hop or perfectly timed stride couldn't avoid.
While my mom had taught me how to skate forwards, I used those skates to teach myself how to skate backwards, perfect my limbo crouch (which never worked in the rollerskating rink), and break using the stopper on both my right and left skates. I would drag my boombox out to the front porch, pop in my Tiffany or Paula Abdul cassette tape, and just skate as fast as I could to pop music. I loved the exhilaration that came with hitting maximum speed on my skates, with my hair flying behind me and my arms pumping crazily. It was a harmless activity that no one seemed to mind, except my parents' neighbor across the street who would step out of his garage, wave at me, and yell "Thank you!" the moment after I shut off the boombox.
When girls roller derby became popular and mainstream a few years ago, I secretly wanted to try out for the KC Roller Warriors. I watched the reality show/documentary on A&E around that time, and I learned more about roller derby, jammers, and blockers than I ever thought possible. I impressed my friends when we went to watch a roller derby match with my understanding of the rules and events happening on the slanted derby court -- I can't remember the difference between a safety and a blitz in football, but I can tell you what it means to "pass the star" in roller derby. There was something so cool about those derby girls with their hip names, black fingernail polish, braids, and tattoos that made me want to try. And then I saw the brutal blocking that can happen when the jam gets going -- intense. I'm pretty sure I would have been killed within the first 30 seconds of play.
Earlier this spring, I went rollerskating with my niece and nephew. Originally I was just meeting them there to watch but, after 20 minutes of sitting at a table by the edge of the rink, I felt the nostalgia for those days when I used to skate on my parents' sidewalk and the rush that came with skating fast. I borrowed money from my brother to rent skates, and raced out to the rink to join my niece and nephew. I was one of only a handful of adults on skates that night, everyone else was either under the age of 14 or walking with their young child who was unsteady on their skates. It had been years since I had been on roller skates, but it all came back -- like they say it does with riding a bicycle. It was just as thrilling as when I was a kid, and I showed my six-year-old niece how to skate backwards and the best approach for throwing your head back and outstretching your arms to sing and dance when your favorite song comes on the PA. She quickly learned and applied this technique as we raced around the rink singing along to Let It Go! from Frozen, arms flung haphazardly out and heads tilted back. It was exhilarating.
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