When I was still fresh meat, desperate to pass my laps, I recall approaching my trainers and telling them that my legs felt as though they were seizing up. It started as cramps in my feet and traveled upward, the excruciating pain becoming stiffness and the feeling that I had no control over my own body. It started after just a few laps and intensified until I stopped but, once the laps were over and I stretched a little, it went away like nothing had even been wrong. Well. They looked at me like this was the most absurd thing they had ever heard.
So, I decided it must be me since it didn’t sound familiar to anyone I was telling. I did everything I knew to do. I started running to take cardio fatigue out of the equation. I paid for private lessons with one of our coaches to work on my technique. I lost 30 pounds. I tried different combinations of wheels and bearings thinking it might help but nothing ever did and I decided that something in my legs was just too weak* and I hadn’t found the right thing to make them strong enough. Since laps were the only time I felt this way, my theory made sense to me.
Through the strength of my will (and some important encouragement), I passed my laps after 15 months of trying and, for awhile, I put it out of my head. I had new things to focus on, new experiences to gain, and I felt like the laps would just get easier but they never did. Wanting to up my game, I renewed my mission to solve this problem and consulted with a personal trainer to help me overcome it once and for all.
“Sounds like you have compartment syndrome,” he said. What? I had heard about this! Tera Bites had surgery for it before we met – but her story about the great lengths she went to in convincing her doctor to check it out made it sound rare or improbable so it never occurred to me that it could be the problem I was having, too.
I saw a sports medicine doctor and he agreed that my experience was consistent with chronic exertional (also called exercise induced) compartment syndrome of my lower legs. He explained that it often onsets with a repetitive activity; in my case, just plain skating in circles. It isn’t a problem in gameplay because I’m doing other things with my feet and legs. Since I recover from the pain pretty quickly and, in my entire life it only impacts me while I skate laps, my doctor does not recommend surgery. If it got worse or more limiting, I would push him to do it but I am 42 and want to make the most of the derby time I have.
What is this Compartment Syndrome? It’s a condition where your muscles are too large for the fascia that contain them. To give you a gross but effective visual, think about when you eat chicken. There is a thin, white membrane surrounding the different muscles you eat. That is the fascia. When that fascia is too constricting, you build up pressure during exercise that can cut off the oxygen supply and cause permanent muscle and nerve damage. Why does it only happen for me during laps since, clearly, my lower legs are at work all the time in derby? It’s kind of like priming a pump.
I’m ridiculously stubborn and I’ve been in denial about it ever since. Recently, after warm-ups at practice involving at least 8 straight minutes of just laps, I never really recovered through the rest of practice. I still hurt a lot the next day and I was afraid I had done the permanent damage I had been warned about. I decided to do the smart thing for me and stepped down from my spot on the B-team because it required me to (and I wanted to) push myself harder than I could afford to push.
I am sharing this detailed account because I hope it might help someone get to this answer faster than I did. That said, I am not a doctor and I am not giving any advice other than, “If any of this sounds familiar to you, please see a sports medicine specialist.” They can tell you what’s up and give you advice. Mine said I can continue to play but I needed to listen to my body so that’s what I’ve finally decided to do. There is a lot of pressure to be a beast in derby and all of us risk broken bones and concussions every time we step onto the track but there is not a lot of empathy for having limitations much less accepting them.
It’s really hard to firmly say I can’t when this sport has done so much to convince me that I absolutely can.
I’m lucky because I have a wonderful derby wife and an amazing real life husband who cushioned my fall with their love and support. Leadership on both sides of my transition were kind and understanding and my J-Villains welcomed me back with enthusiasm. I am happier with “my secret” out because I feel more empowered to manage my condition.
*I am risking my credibility in admitting this since I could probably lift a car with my legs but this really is what I was thinking!
Cinder Block 