When I was 12 years old my mom bought me my first skateboard. A Powell Peralta Ripper with Bone 3s and tracker trucks. Everything else in my life stopped. I got in trouble nearly everyday for not checking in or coming home late. Not because I was rebelling against my mother, she's amazing(ask anyone I grew up with and they'll tell you the same). It was because I literally couldn't get off my board to go home for dinner. That was more than 20 years ago.
Over the years life happened. Work, marriage, a family. Like most skaters my age I don't get to do it nearly as often as I'd like. The hashtag #skateeverydamnday has no meaning to me. I skate when I can.
I never considered myself a great skater, but I definitely had a sizable bag of tricks. As time goes by, with less skating I've lost the majority of those tricks. These days my skate sessions generally consists of 30 minutes just to remember how to Ollie, 30 minutes of trying to relearn some trick I've long since lost, and 30 minutes complaining about my knees and my age.
Yesterday I had a pretty fun sesh with the Block kids at Kooktown. Afterwords we headed back to the shop where I thought it would be a good idea to try and relearn proper 5-0 grinds on the mini out back. It didn't take very long for the frustration to set in. I stopped and contemplated whether or not I wanted to continue this path of losing tricks that were no brainers in my youth or just give skateboarding up all together. I chose the latter.
That decision lasted about 3 hours. As much as I sometimes feel like I should, I can't quit skateboarding. It's in my blood. I crave the feeling I get when I do something as simple as powerslide down the road, or 5050 the slappy curb in front of the the shop. Hell, I still finger skate edges of tables and counters! Lance Mountain said, "Skateboarding doesn’t make you a skateboarder, not being able to stop skateboarding makes you a skateboarder." There's no truer statement. For better or worse, I'm a skateboarder.