Antagonym

Chapter 7

There was nothing I loved more than the sound of a sharp hockey stop on ice. The nice crunching sound and the feeling of complete freedom. It was odd, the way stoping on ice made you feel. If anything, it was more freeing and adrenaline inducing than actually skating. Everything had to be just right for you to stay on your feet which made it all the more exciting.

The ice rink was silent except for the blissful sound of my skates on the ice and the music on my phone. I could feel the loneliness in the air, that same eerie feeling you get sometimes when you are home alone at night. But as much as it sounded like a bad thing, I loved it. It meant I had time to practice some of the drills only goalies needed to do, some of the things we didn't get to every practice.

It was probably about 9; just half an hour after our night practice had ended. In the background my phone played one of my workout playlists. I couldn't help but hum the words of NF's Why between heavy breaths and my mouth guard. With my hockey stick in my right hand, as I was a full right goalie with an advantage over the lefty shooters which dominated hockey, I swiveled my right leg in a series of stops as I worked my way around the edge of the crease. When I worked the whole way around I did the same in the opposite direction, stoping and blocking with my left foot.

I practiced that agility drill for probably way longer than needed, getting lost in the repetitive movements as the music in the background faded and my brain zeroed in on my movements. I might have been mumbling lyrics between breaths, but I wasn't consciously processing them. Everyone had that zone they got into when they were focused that blocked everything else out. For some people it came in the form of homework, or reading, and definitely running. I, for one, got into my zone far faster and easier through agility drills than through blocking slap shots or watching a game.

My brain was so consumed that even when I switched drills, skating from the corner of the goal to the front of the crease and blocking with my right leg before skating backwards to the opposite corner and doing the same again with my right leg, I didn't lose my razor sharp focus. I could feel the cold of the ice through the guards on my leg and my padded shorts.

That was one challenge about being a woman in men's hockey, or even hockey in general. The padded shorts were impossible to work with. Most girls wore men's gear anyways, deciding it gave them more room, especially in the chest area. But with shorts, it was impossible. Women's weren't as protective in the same ways men's were considering how men could hit harder, but men's didn't fit my small waist or my larger behind. As a result I've had to get custom pads over the years because if anyone needed their shorts to function perfectly, it was the one who was constantly twisting their legs in ways others didn't.

When I finished my crease drills, I found myself leaving the blue ice and setting up a line of six pucks. Even though I was focused, the sound of my music came back into my conscious processing. "The sweet heat of her breath in my mouth, I'm alive. With her sweetened breath and her tongue so mean, she's the angel of small death and the codeine scene.  With her straw blonde hair, her arms hard and lean, she's the angel of small death and the codeine scene," I sang the sensual Hozier song before skating to the front of the lineup.

I pushed myself right using my left skate, stopping with my right skate in front of the puck and snapping my left leg down followed by my right. I picked the left leg up then my right, repeating the process at the next puck, getting faster and faster. It must have looked like some of dance, perfectly synchronized leg movements flowing together like a wave. I didn't even notice when the song changed, but my mouth did. "Because the bad's been slowly getting worse. In this fast lane, living its a curse. Better tell me, what's your life worth? I think it's a time for a change because the drugs don't work anymore. I couldn't seem to kill the pain. I was living in the moment, searching for a little serotonin."