Before I hit the road to celebrate my Mom on Mother’s Day (in the U.S.), I just wanted to hop on and try or attempt as is the definition of essay in the original French.
The more I skateboard, the more I find its use as an outlet for energy, an escape from overthinking, and a focal point to hold onto when things get busy. Yesterday I was lucky enough to get in a short skate despite a busy day, and it made all the difference. After, I was energized and content, satisfied that I’d done what I enjoyed first.
At some point during the writing of this blog, though, I worried that skateboarding would become something I did solely for the blog’s purpose, something I did only to continue the writing project with no merit or reward for the act of skating itself.
I’ve been relieved to see that, actually, the days I skate without writing a post are some of the best sessions I have, that days when I don’t snap a pic for photographic evidence because I don’t want to capture unwilling, albeit photogenic, skaters, are some of the most engaging sessions, and even in those small things I don’t relate immediately but keep for myself, I find real and meaningful satisfaction.
All of this is good for the blog—for one, it means I can approach skaters as another skater rather than a journalist or reporter. A primary goal of this “writing project” has been to meet excellent people in skateboarding. I’ve begun to see those convergences can only happen when the Nancy Drew notebook is stowed in my bag and I am fully present.
I have to admit, aside from writing about and reflecting on my experience skateboarding, I’m not entirely sure how the rest of this monstrous, frankensteined together blog will come together, but so long as I can enjoy a session without expectation, it’ll be rad enough for me.
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