Skateboarder mom

I've been spending a lot of time with Taryn at one skatepark or another. This is most definitely her thing: constant motion, a bit of a thrill, burn lots of energy. She's been trying for a couple of weeks to get up the courage to drop in, or skate down a concave ramp. At her regular skatepark, the smallest is about four feet down into a concrete bowl. It looks pretty scary to me, so I get her hesitation.

One of the guys at the skate park told her that hesitation is the enemy. "You gotta commit to it."

At home, she has not been able to commit to the drop. And she's been pretty hard on herself about it. I keep telling her that she will know when she is ready, and she'll rock it.

I don't want to write much more about her experiences, because that is her story. I won't be a tease, though. On this trip to Nashville, she tried out an indoor skatepark with her buddy. She mastered a wooden ramp with a two foot drop, and then went for the next size up. When she dropped in from that one for the first time, she pumped her fist -- I couldn't hear her, but I'm sure she said, "Yes!!!" -- and popped off her board. She jumped up and down with excitement like she was on a pogo stick.

Dropping in, like a boss.

While this is going on, I sit on the side lines, like a stage mother, or a soccer mom. I'm usually on my own, reading a book, catching up on emails, and (now) blogging.

Not much, just blogging. How are you?

On the sunny days, it's been great to sit outside and soak in the autumn sunlight. Sometimes it is cold enough for me to huddle in the car. Taryn is out there, in whatever the weather, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Here in Nashville, we've had beautiful weather, and she wanted to try an outdoor park. We tried the Two Rivers Skatepark, but she didn't want to stay.

Two Rivers Skatepark, great in theory

There was a lot of steep concrete. That and the cigarette smoking, sweat-stinking twenty-somethings made an unappealing situation. So we've returned to Sixth Avenue Skatepark.

The first thing she said when we walked in was, "It's great that there aren't any smokers around." It's funny how the skateboard culture is full of really nice guys, but there's a lot of smoking and cursing that goes with them. There's also the lack of girls. When we see one, we always take note. I love it when the occasional woman shows up and barrels around the concrete bowl. Without fail, she will acknowledge Taryn in some encouraging way.

A gradual realization has culminated in an obvious question: why don't I skateboard, too? There's only good reasons to start. Taryn would get to be the expert, which would be a nice change-up in our homeschooling relationship. I'd stay warm as a participant, instead of cold on the sidelines. I would be a skater, not just another girl watching from outside the fence. I'd be setting a good example for my daughters, too, that chronological age doesn't have to be a barrier to starting something new.

Circumstances confirmed that I need to get onto a skateboard. When we found out that the skate park rented helmets but no pads, I bought a set of protective gear for Taryn's friend to use, but for me to keep.

My elbow pads. I had a banana seat bike in these colors.

It looks vintage 80's, kind of like me. I'll pull a classic newbie move and borrow my boyfriend's board (except that because I'm a grownup, it's my husband's) to see if I want to invest in my own. I'm pretty sure I will.

 

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