A lot has changed since I first started my derby journey. I passed my level 1 assessment and moved into contact skills. I was told I wouldn’t pass minimum skills. I didn’t pass it the first time around. But I kept skating in any way I could: with a men’s league, with wReck derby, with my hometown’s league, and I eventually moved across the country where I gave myself one more try at fresh meat 2. And finally, in December, I passed.
I’ve experienced a lot of “failure” in roller derby. Two rounds of fresh meat 1, two rounds of fresh meat 2. I’ve had a lot of “failure” in music as well. I can’t tell you how many auditions I haven’t won. I’ve had a million bad practices, in both music and derby, where I watched myself progressively become less able to nail a skill while my peers got more and more consistent. Eventually, it gets so frustrating that you’re not sure whether to scream or cry. But it’s at that point when you’re learning the most.
I’ve come to a realization about practicing as a time-strapped, overcommitted grad student: it’s not about how much you practice, but the quality of your practice. It’s more important to spend one hour drilling that one measure you can’t play than to spend three hours playing the sections you can play already. Of course, it’s important to put things back into context, but perhaps it’s not the best use of your borrowed time to play what you already know.
The same goes for skating. Why waste time with your dominant side when what needs work is your bad side? Sure, you look a lot cooler during open skate time when you practice things you can already do, but wouldn’t that time be better spent drilling the things you can’t do yet?
When you’re falling, you’re learning. Just as Thomas Edison found 1000 ways not to make a lightbulb, I’ve found 1000 ways not to do a hockey stop. I’ve found 1000 ways not to play Pasculli. I’ve found 1000 ways not to jump the apex. I’ve found 1000 ways not to make a reed. I’ve probably found 500 ways to go into something with the wrong mindset.
If you freak out about the 32nd notes, chances are you’re going to botch them. If you panic before jamming, chances are you’ll get stuck somewhere. If you’ve practiced the passage, at some point you have to turn off the analytical part of your brain and just trust yourself. You’ve practiced this. You can do it. Don’t let your own fear of failure prevent you from success.
You’re not learning when you give a perfect performance; that’s the product of all those days when you practiced something a thousand times and couldn’t get it up to tempo. You’re not learning when you’re nailing every drill on the track; that’s the product ofevery fall while you were learning something new.
Falling isn’t failing. It’s just another way to learn.
