Sunday! Sunday! Sunday!

[cynicalscribe]

Tryouts are tomorrow morning. I'm anxious. I've gone through most of the stages. There was the panicky-obsessiveness phase during Thursday's open skate when I realized how inefficient my crossovers are (I overcompensate for my slippery, too-hard wheels by slowing down as I'm going into the turn so I can dig in hard for traction and essentially jump into my crossover, wasting a ton of momentum and energy) and how much my kneepads suck (and no, the new ones haven't arrived yet). There was the heart-pounding-in-my-chest phase at work on Friday and again at Job #2 today, during which I tried to keep my mind off my concerns about my skills by coming up with derby name options. There was the quiet-withdrawn-overthinking phase on Friday night when I should have been much more social at Leyla and Theorn's going-away party, but instead was sort of awkward and untalkative, especially when asked about how I was feeling about tryouts! This evening during dinner with my 'rents I was deep in the can't-shut-the-fuck-up-about-it phase. Now I'm in the restless-and-feeling-the-need-to-blog-about-it phase. Guh. Nervous, nervous, nervous.

I think I'll prep for this the same way I used to prep for swim meets when I was competing: shower and shave my legs (all the way up, mind you, as it cuts down on drag), do a bit of yoga so I'll relax and feel limber in the morning, clean my gear and pack my gear bag, lay out what I'm wearing (since hanging my racing suit on the bedroom doorknob wouldn't apply here), and then go to bed. Hopefully this long-abandoned ritual will get me in a more athletic mindset.

So yeah, tryouts, 8 a.m., tomorrow. Let's see if seven months of training will pay off!