I went to the skatepark first thing a couple days ago but left a few minutes later when I decided it was too wet and too filled with puddles to skate. The reasoning was that my gear would get messed up: the grip tape, for sure, would be worn down a little closer to just tape, no grip, the trucks and their doughboys might get more attention than I’d like (though, who knows how much water affects trucks), and, mostly, the bearings would probably end up taking in extra dirt and grime thanks to the water conduit.
The bearings really halted me because I haven’t gone through the process of cleaning them, which might actually happen today with yet another consecutive morning of rain-soaked concrete and flooded, dark-grey clouds.
While it’s true that my grip tape, for one, will last a little longer, I don’t feel like keeping my board clean and mean was a worthy reason not to skate earlier in the week. That day has turned out to be the only one when I could find even a small patch of ground with only splotches of wetness and no puddles. A smothering of dampness didn’t have to signal the end—I could’ve worked on my newly evolving ollie, or I could have thrown myself up a dry transition wall to get a feel for it at the most basic level. Manuals. Power slides. There was a lot I could’ve done.
With all these rainouts the past few days, and likely for the next couple, I regret not harnessing that difficult to engage basement energy where any available space is enough to skate. I can clean the hardware, revive bearings, and re-grip if and when I need to—I really shouldn’t let that get in the way when skate sessions can become rarified with just a dousing of rainwater or snow.
Next time, I’ll find a way. Waiting around isn’t doing anything for my legs or my spirit. Next time, I’ll harness the ancestral surfing energy in skateboarding and shred regardless. Rain be damned.
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