Ankle Update, Feb 2021

This below clip is a little outtake from last night's session. The angle iron was a tad sticky. Didn’t go fast enough/lean back far enough to compensate. Front end dipped down. I stepped-off onto the bad ankle...and down I go.

Almost two years after the initial broken bone, after two surgeries, after almost a year back on the board, and after significant recovery, my front ankle STILL betrays me on occasions...and sometimes even on very simple/low impact things such as this little 5-0 grind. I never know when it’s going to happen. 

Fortunately, this doesn’t occur nearly as often as before, and when it does, my ankle doesn’t hurt nearly as bad. Things like this used to be a session-ender. Now I just get up and keep going. That’s awesome. The pads continue to be a real life-saver when it does happen, because I usually go down straight to my knee (sound on to hear the plastic scrape). I don’t foresee loosing those anytime in the near future—it’s just not a game of Russian roulette I want to play with my kneecaps, because eventually I will loose in a serious way. It's just not worth it. 

 

The other major improvement is that I can now control my falls much better than before—I don’t go down nearly as hard. That’s also great news. So, despite occasional floundering, my ankle doing pretty good. 

Keep pushing...I certainly am. 

Diminish, Fade, and Wither: The Inspiring Delcline of Tony Hawk

I am an old, broken, skateboarder. My balance is not what it once was. I don’t react as fast as I used to. I don’t heal as quickly as before. Every year skateboarding becomes harder. Every year I become more susceptible to injury. I like my pads a hell of a lot more than I used to. These are hard facts of biology, time, age, and life.

Recently Tony Hawk posted about his recent struggles doing a 720. A trick he invented long ago. He said he could not spin them as fast anymore. He said previous attempts ended badly and did not inspire confidence. He said they were much harder now. He battled it for awhile, pulled one, and said he may never do it again. Albeit vastly different scales, these battles are ones many of us already know quite well. I certainly do. They are also battles EVERY skateboarder WILL know, provided they stick with it long enough. There is no escape.

It’s not often someone in skateboarding, especially someone at Hawk’s level, openly talks about (and shows) the impact of aging. It’s almost unimaginable to hear TONY HAWK talk about battles with CONFIDENCE. Hearing and seeing his own battles with declining skill and ability certainly make our own battles with the same that much more universal and...humanizing.

Much respect for making that 720, Tony. But even more respect for the honest vulnerability. Every session is a gift. It won’t last forever...and even Tony Hawk knows that.

We diminish. We fade. We wither. And that, at least to me, is a gift. The impermanence of it all is what makes it so special. It’s what makes it so hard to take anything for granted, and what reveals how profound the simple really is (and I’m not talking about just skateboarding here). As I knowingly roll into my own twilight, I do so with a gratitude brighter than a thousand Suns.

Hawk, battling to land a 720, one last time.