I was out rollerblading with my cousin today, like we do every Thursday morning. It is a time for us to catch up, talk about what’s going on in our lives, get some exercise, and drink in the beautiful beachside heaven that we have here in Santa Monica.
The blades I had been wearing up until a few months ago were a pair I had bought in the early 90s back when I lived in Washington, DC. Yes, you remember, when blading was the hot trend. When I mentioned to a friend in Seattle recently that I go blading every week, she responded, “Blading? Do people still do that?” Well, I have for 15 years. But then I also love disco music and Wheaties.
One day this winter I was blading with my cousin — rolling on our wheels, exhilarating in the good fortune of living in such a magnificent place – and my blades suddenly CRACKED. Yes, that’s right. My trusty pair of blades split ride down the sides. No more support. In grand ceremonial style, I released these blades that had been with me for 15 years into the dumpster feeling like I was releasing something much bigger, but not quite able to name it.
It’s four months later and I have been through two new pair of rollerblades and neither of them have worked for me. The first pair dug into my ankles, gave me bruises and cuts. I tried band aids, moleskin, extra thick socks, you name it. I took them back. The store gave me a new pair that feel comfortable on my feet, but don’t have the proper ankle support and the wheels roll at a noticeably slower rate than my beloved 15-year snappy K2 pair. With arch supports slid inside, this latest pair were the ones I was wearing today.
I pulled over to a bench to see if tightening the laces, strap and buckle might help give me more support. As I was cinching down the buckle, I said out loud, “I wonder why my old blades were able to support me so well? I never had all of these problems!” As my cousin and I both speak the same language of Louise Hay and like to look at the deeper meaning underneath outer circumstances, she reminded me that feet represent moving forward. That reminder ignited me to announce, “How funny that my old blades, my old support system, cracked. And ever since then I have been experimenting with different brands of blades and fumbling around with trying to get support!”
It could have been a simple moment, but for me like with most everything else, it resonated with great meaning. I realized that there might be something more to this blade journey than going from A to B. But in thinking so deeply, was I just spinning my wheels?
It is true that I have indeed let go of old ways, old support systems and old beliefs and have been in a place of transition where I have not yet found my center or in blading terms, my stride. My collapsing ankles and slow rolling wheels were, in my mind, material evidence that transitions take time.
What about you — when you see a ladybug does it indicate luck on the way? How about a penny? Prosperity coming? In other words, do you find big meanings in small things?
Tabby Biddle is a writer and editor specializing in helping women entrepreneurs and emerging authors get their message out. Additionally she is the founder of Lotus Blossom Style, a yoga lifestyle company created to support women in their personal transformation. She lives in Santa Monica, CA.