Speed Trials

Ian – the skinniest man on earth.

Ange eating a Philly Cheese Steak (gotta do it!)

Mmmm… Cheeeese Steak…

Incognito Bainsworth…

The court. Day two.

We heart PBR!

And the obligatory shot of coach, passed out, with beer in hand.

Though forces outside of my control were conspiring against me, I still managed to finally make it to a Bike Polo Tournament. It was the World Hard Court Bike Polo Championship, and it was held in Philadelphia, PA. A couple of days before the trip, I started getting chills and aches, and felt generally crappy. On Friday morning, I was sick enough to contemplate bailing out of the trip altogether. Chalk it up to yet another missed trip. I was so torn: I really wanted to go to a tourney with Angelo, and party with him, and meet everyone, but on the other hand, I was really feeling shitty, and was worried that I’d be bruised and battered by all the partying. I was scared of being stranded at a bike polo party in a strange city, sick as a dog, with no escape route to the hotel.

I got home from work on Friday, feeling like crap, but I managed to dust myself off, fix my hair, throw on some hot pink heels, and head out to Canteen for Ryan’s Vernissage. It ended up being a really fun opening, and his two pieces were great. Pictures would do them no justice, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. A holographic print and a gnarly video. He’s got a very distinct aesthetic, and it looks really good.

I didn’t stick around very long at Canteen, though, because I had to go home and pack. I almost fell into another somber mood when I started putting clothes in my bag… What to bring? Nothing fits anymore, so my wardrobe options are limited anyway. And then on top of it, all of my clothes are “work clothes” and totally inappropriate for a bike polo tournament. But I knew I’d end up feeling like shit wearing the unflattering boy cut bike polo t-shirts we have lying around. After trying on a couple of things, I managed to pack enough to tide me over – including the jeans I’d managed to pour myself into for the Canteen show!

Then I scrambled into my Slaughter Daughter shirt (roller derby is good for the soul), and felt instantly better. Ange was asleep on the couch, and I had some peaceful moments to myself before the 8 hour car ride to Philly.

The ride itself was better than I thought it would be. We crossed the border effortlessly, and fairly early on in the trip. I drove from about 2:30 to 5:30am, which was GREAT. Really. It was pitch black, the boys were asleep, and there was this thick fog spilling out over the road. It made for slightly slower driving, but I had the GPS on, and so I used that to anticipate turns and bends in the road. When Bryan took over for the last leg, I crawled into the back seat and slept for about an hour.

We got into Philly and headed straight for the courts. There was no one there when we arrived, so we went for breakfast and made some calls. The set up at the courts was awful – really narrow courts separated by hay bales (??) and boards that were… laughable. But no one was laughing. The whole tournament had been mired in gossip, animosity, disappointment and apprehension. And seeing the courts up close, in person, and watching the chaos unfold – well, it didn’t restore any faith into the shattered expectation of the participants.

But really, I didn’t allow myself to care. I didn’t offer any help. This wasn’t my bag. I’ve been that gofer at these kinds of tournaments. (At the 2008 NSPIs I missed the final game because I noticed that no one had bought any beer glasses for the keg at the afterparty. I had 18 minutes to get to the grocery store before it closed, and made it just in time. It was almost a huge fuck up, but no one noticed). So I just sat back, chatted with the other players, and basked under the hot Philly sun.

Despite the shitty conditions, and tensions from clashing personalities, I had a really good time at this tournament. I met tons of people, got to know a bunch more that I had only briefly met at the NSPIs, and watched some excellent polo. The Ottawa boys were in good shape on Saturday, winning 5 and losing 2 (heartbreakers, both of them).

Their game was super intuitive, and Angelo impressed me so much. He is such a good all around player, not just good at shooting (which he is) or goalie (which he is) but also uses both his brains and his brawn as the play demands. I was also impressed that the crowds were always so vocal when the Mallets of Mayhem were on the court. They are the darlings of Polo, for sure.

Our Saturday night was pretty mellow, as we were beat from the long drive, the day of polo, and the hot sun weighing down on us with no cover in sight. We crashed early and slept well through the night.

Sunday had a nicer breeze and ended up a little overcast, which was great relief. The boys played well again, losing to RVA, which sent them down to the loser’s bracket. It was great, though, because with their backs against the wall, they played tons of games and won with impressive flurry.

Finally, they lost to Wisconsin A, and that was the end of polo for them that day. Angelo and I watched some great match ups, heckling and laughing and joking around with everyone else. Hanging out with the guys from Milawauke, Richmond, NYC, and Chicago is always way fun, and I laughed so hard, cheered so hard, partied so hard. It was really great.

But then the Finals came and the usual suspects were left to battle it out. The tournament ended on a weird goal, and it was sort of anti-climactic, and then we were once again faced with the incompetence of the organizer, and the awards ceremony was shit. Ran out of beer in the first 1/2 hour, and no one could hear the announcer. Plus, they lost the bracketing, so the teams had to sort out for themselves their ranking, and the MVP was chosen almost at random, which left a bad taste in the mouths of the other teams.

Finally went back to the hotel, partied a little there, and that was it. Spent Monday on the road, heading back home.

In the midst of the madness, I lost my voice, reconnected with Angelo, and had the funnest time. There was no room for sad introspection, self-doubt and comparisons to others. There was only time for laughs, for jokes, for letting things go.

Now why can’t I transfer that attitude to my day-to-day life back here?

When we first got to Zipolite, we stayed at Shambhala, which was great. It was built into the cliff of the western side of the beach, and had a great Meditation Point perfect for watching sunsets. It also had a palapa perfect for mid-afternoon yoga.

My spot was out of the sun, and high enough to feel a nice steady breeze from the ocean. It was a great place, and really helped along the relaxing and rejuvenating of the vacation.

I had downloaded four podcasts from Yogadownload.com, but ended up using the same Gentle Hatha for the whole week. It is very easy to do, and great for vacation yoga. It was a nice excuse to find some time alone, and it really helped me focus my mind and calm my nerves.

Aside: When I was in university, we had three hour studio sessions twice daily, and anywhere from 1/3 to 1/2 of that time was spent doing yoga. I was never so flexible in all of my life. I would love the chance to get back into it with that same fervor.

I’m definitely hoping to integrate more yoga back into my life now that I’m home. Yesterday I tried the Core Yoga #2, and could only do 5 minutes of the 20 minute podcast before my stomach started to ache and my body started to shake uncontrollably. My core is in need of some serious work. I’m also trying to sit with better posture in my office chair at work, and engage my core when I walk to and from work. I can see what people say about developing a strong core to prevent injury. It automatically makes you feel stronger and more solid.

I also ran along the beach most mornings, before the sun made its daily ascent and things got too hot. It was lovely. I would run barefoot, in my bathing suit, and once I had run the length of the beach and back, I would slip off the suit and jump into the ocean to cool off. Now, if I could do that at home, I’d DEFINITELY run every day! When I got home, a little Google search told me that the beach is approx. 2.5km long, and I think I ran it and back in approx. 30min (though who knows, on account of the no watch).

And to my utmost surprise, Angelo did come out to run with me one morning. I think he enjoyed it, though I would never dare try to make him admit it!!

That is where I have been since I last wrote. Angelo and I drove down to Montreal at 4am on Saturday morning to catch a flight to Mexico. I kept a diary (yeah, that old-fashioned kind with pages and ink!!) and thought it would make blogging easier upon my return. I had no idea that I would disengage so completely, and spend the days unwinding the hard coils that had tightened in me over the past few years. I wrote in my journal a lot (almost everyday) but I did not think of this blog once. Nor did I think about my job, my family, roller derby, or my diet for that matter. We had no idea of the time, and only looked at a watch for the first time on Thursday, six days after our arrival in Zipolite. It was the best vacation of my life. Perhaps the best week of my life.

Zipolite is a small-ish playa on the Pacific coast in the South of Mexico (in Oaxaca state). The small village is anchored to the beach, and we spent most of our time, ate most of our meals, and slept in posadas right on the beach.

It was hot and sunny the whole time we were there, I ate whatever felt good (fish and chicken along with the arros y frigoles I thought I’d have to live off of!!) and soaked up the sun.

Zipolite is the only nude beach in Mexico, and Ange and I went completely bare, something neither one of us had done before. It was nice, and liberating. The atmosphere was so chill, and it was always interesting to look at everyone else’s bodies. So many varied shapes and sizes, so many particularities and commonalities, it instantly made me feel more at ease with myself, with my own form and shape. I of course liked watching Angelo best of all, because he’s so fit and lean, but I was fascinated by everyone else. Those who say (regarding nude beaches) that nobody looks has obviously never been to a nude beach! It’s more acurate to say nobody gives a shit. It actually did wonders for my self esteem.

Or perhaps it was the tan I got… Why is it that skin is so much more appealing when it’s a shade or two darker? Even with SPF 60, we still managed to darken considerably.

We also spent a lot of time in hamacas, swaying softly in the breeze on the beach. Though sunny and hot as hell, it was always easy to find a cool shady spot, and I never felt overwhelmed by the heat. The moisture in the air (from the constantly crashing waves) kept my skin hydrated and I didn’t even peel at all while I was there. The climate, in a word, is perfect.

That’s probably why it’s not surprising that we met up with some fellow Canadians who have made it their retirement plan to live in Zipolite for half the year. They were also the ones who showed us where the cool bar was in town!!

So now we’re back in Ottawa, and back at work. But we’ve managed to keep some of that peace and contentment from our trip. There were no luxuries to be had in Zipolite, and we wanted for nothing. We ate well, filled our lungs, eyes, heads, souls, hearts with sights and sounds and smells of the sea and the sand, and we are, totally, relaxed.

This was more than a trip. It was a prescription. No, it was more than a prescription. It was a cure.

That is where I have been since I last wrote. Angelo and I drove down to Montreal at 4am on Saturday morning to catch a flight to Mexico. I kept a diary (yeah, that old-fashioned kind with pages and ink!!) and thought it would make blogging easier upon my return. I had no idea that I would disengage so completely, and spend the days unwinding the hard coils that had tightened in me over the past few years. I wrote in my journal a lot (almost everyday) but I did not think of this blog once. Nor did I think about my job, my family, roller derby, or my diet for that matter. We had no idea of the time, and only looked at a watch for the first time on Thursday, six days after our arrival in Zipolite. It was the best vacation of my life. Perhaps the best week of my life.

Zipolite is a small-ish playa on the Pacific coast in the South of Mexico (in Oaxaca state). The small village is anchored to the beach, and we spent most of our time, ate most of our meals, and slept in posadas right on the beach.

It was hot and sunny the whole time we were there, I ate whatever felt good (fish and chicken along with the arros y frigoles I thought I’d have to live off of!!) and soaked up the sun.

Zipolite is the only nude beach in Mexico, and Ange and I went completely bare, something neither one of us had done before. It was nice, and liberating. The atmosphere was so chill, and it was always interesting to look at everyone else’s bodies. So many varied shapes and sizes, so many particularities and commonalities, it instantly made me feel more at ease with myself, with my own form and shape. I of course liked watching Angelo best of all, because he’s so fit and lean, but I was fascinated by everyone else. Those who say (regarding nude beaches) that nobody looks has obviously never been to a nude beach! It’s more acurate to say nobody gives a shit. It actually did wonders for my self esteem.

Or perhaps it was the tan I got… Why is it that skin is so much more appealing when it’s a shade or two darker? Even with SPF 60, we still managed to darken considerably.

We also spent a lot of time in hamacas, swaying softly in the breeze on the beach. Though sunny and hot as hell, it was always easy to find a cool shady spot, and I never felt overwhelmed by the heat. The moisture in the air (from the constantly crashing waves) kept my skin hydrated and I didn’t even peel at all while I was there. The climate, in a word, is perfect.

That’s probably why it’s not surprising that we met up with some fellow Canadians who have made it their retirement plan to live in Zipolite for half the year. They were also the ones who showed us where the cool bar was in town!!

So now we’re back in Ottawa, and back at work. But we’ve managed to keep some of that peace and contentment from our trip. There were no luxuries to be had in Zipolite, and we wanted for nothing. We ate well, filled our lungs, eyes, heads, souls, hearts with sights and sounds and smells of the sea and the sand, and we are, totally, relaxed.

This was more than a trip. It was a prescription. No, it was more than a prescription. It was a cure.