When I turned eight, my dad gave me a birthday card with a quote by Eleanor Roosevelt: “Do one thing every day that scares you”. Twenty years later, I still need this advice. I tend to be a risk-adverse, anxious, safety-seeking creature of habit. Trying new things is a nerve-wracking experience: “What ifs” swirl around my head, twisting up my stomach. What if I make an embarrassing mistake? What if I get hurt? What if I look like I don’t know what I’m doing?
These thoughts pounded through my skull as I entered the “info night” for my local roller derby team in LA. Why was I even here? I had no idea how to skate. I didn’t even know anyone who played derby. All I knew is I needed something new in my life. I sat down, and my skate journey began. I took meticulous notes on what I needed to do to get started, a coping mechanism for approaching the unknown. I bought my gear. I watched YouTube videos for how to put on kneepads. I scoured google images for the correct way to attach toe guards (spoiler: there isn’t one). I re-fitted my mouth guard four times. I was ready for my first practice.
Finding the will to jump into something new was the hardest step. Everything after my first nerve-wracking practice started to fall into place. I still didn’t know how to skate, but I was able to stand up on my wheels and moved forward. I was learning how to fall properly and how to stop. I was making mistakes, but so was everyone else; It was a learning environment. I was surrounded by strong, welcoming people from all walks of life.
Only a month after I joined my LA team, COVID hit and the derby team stopped practicing. But by this time, I had caught the skate bug. I started skating in my house, gaining confidence. I finally built up the nerve to skate outside in public(!!). I looked like I didn’t know what I was doing. I got hurt (road rash, anyone?). I made embarrassing mistakes in front of people. But each day I went out, I got better. Each time I rolled down the paved beachside path, I experienced the world in a completely different, incredible way. I soaked up the SoCal sun, recruited friends to skate with me, felt the strength in my legs and the wind in my hair. I was loving it.
Then I moved to the Bay Area and began searching for local teams. By this point, I’d been skating outdoors for a year and had taught myself a few fun tricks and transitions, but still had no clue what derby was about. I found that Peninsula Roller Derby (PRD) practiced nearby, and I emailed to join. I felt the familiar “what ifs” knocking around my head on my way to the first PRD practice, but this time a buzz of excitement was also coursing through me, muting the anxiety.
Now, half a year into derby, I have gained skills and confidence on the track, a basic understanding of the game, a desire to learn more about the sport, and an incredible community of people who support their teammates and dedicate each practice to learning, improving, and growing as people and skaters. The skate bug has turned into skate love!
Yet even now in derby, I am continually challenged with trying new things. Each new drill, open scrimmages, volunteering for committees, the whirlwind experience of a bout—all of these are openings for my anxiety to stab “what ifs” into my head. But something has changed. My “what ifs” have changed.
What if you had fun? What if you found an incredible community? What if you found a sport you loved? What if you discovered you loved to challenge yourself? And, most importantly:
What if you did something every day that scares you?
Jamma Ray is one of our Comet jammers. She is talented, driven, and always has a great attitude. The PRD family is delighted she chose us! - Cuda