My last attempts on a skateboard didn't go so well, so I was reluctant to try again now, even if it was a whole year later. On the one hand, breaking my face for a second time and suffering humiliation was pretty low on my to-do list... on the other hand, I am hoping to acquire some skill on the board, and as Jesse so lovingly pointed out to me, if I wasn't willing to get hurt, I might as well sell my board.
So I let him coax me into it again a couple days ago. We drove into downtown Tonasket and took the back alley into the skate park. It was easily ninety degrees out and there were three of us in the front seat of the F250. Llama and I slid out the passengers door and surveyed the empty park with apprehension. Jesse went straight for his board and then headed eagerly for the bowl like he was Tony Hawk or something.
It was my job to push myself down the smallest ramp there possible again and again to regain confidence in my sense of balance. When that went well, I decided to try things a little riskier.
"Keep practicing until you don't look like an idiot while you do it," Jesse told me the discouraging truth. I shot him a look and steadied myself to look as un-idiot as possible.
What started off as a couple successful days of practicing smaller skateboarding feats have now resulted in a series of bumps, bruises, and cuts decorating my arms and legs. And hips. And did I mention elbows?
But as my brother so expertly put it: "Ninety percent of skateboarding is being willing to do stupid stuff over and over again until you get something right."
(I may have fancied the words up a little bit.)
There's your lesson in wisdom for today.
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