Skating Out of Your Comfort Zone

by Greta Reimer

You have the board, you’ve got down the basics. Front foot on the bolts, push, ride.

You’ve started to realize that the sound of your hard wheels struggling along the jagged asphalt echoes, and it’s time to get out of the neighborhood.

You browse a short list of skateparks nearby, swiping through blurry old photos and pixelated videos of someone's kid on a scooter. You pick one that looks relatively decent and head into uncharted waters.

You don’t know how a park works— physically or socially. You can’t describe a quarter or hubba or a manual pad, but you are eager to begin.

When your wheels glide along smooth concrete for the first time your face turns upright and you

feel like you’re sailing across a glassy ocean. You are a newborn again. Wide-eyed, bare, confused and slightly scared as you find yourself in everyone's way.

You scan the scene and notice the many glances of stylish strangers looking back. You think to yourself: “are they staring at me because I look like a fish out of water, or because I’m a girl.”

As if you weren’t already afraid of falling, now you're concerned about how you look falling.

Your heart beats faster as you watch swarms of local boys executing tricks you’ve never seen before. You attempt something small and suddenly there is a teenager in Dickies proving that he can do it better.

“How do I slow down like that? How do I step of and pop the board up into my hand without obliterating my fingers”. There is a whole list forming in your head.

You seek out every bench, ledge or corner to retreat to. There is nowhere to hide.

Suddenly, across a sea of worn-in decks, your eyes greet someone with a warm smile.

You muster up the courage to say hello– but in skater it comes out as “I like your griptape” or “how long have you been skating?”.

Before you know it, you belong.

You don’t have to earn your place, you just have to be yourself.

Anyone would be nervous before entering such a tight-knit community. It’s a culture shock if you’ve never been to a skatepark before. There are unspoken rules to learn, local legends to know, and most importantly new obstacles to conquer.

Being a female skater takes it to another level.

Often you will be one of few, if not the only girl at any park. At first this can feel like you’re a new flavor of fish surrounded by empty-bellied sharks.

The added attention creates internal pressure to be impressive or at least “good”, to justify being there.

You don’t have to be.

Every person has started the same way.

Although it is intimidating to be a beginner and a female skater, persistence is the best remedy.

If you acknowledge those around you and genuinely try to have a good time, the easier it is for people to get to know and accept you.

The more you show up, the more skating shows up for you.

To get better at skating, you have to surrender to the process and accept that you are about to fall flat on your face a hundred times before you master a single trick. It takes a lot of grit to endure the bruises, scrapes, and sometimes broken bones that skating demands. But if you can pick yourself back up and try again, the reward is worth it every time.

Skating opens doors for us to improve in more than one way.

By throwing ourselves into the unknown and having a willingness to fail until we get it right, we build resilience.

Don’t just do it once. Do it over and over again. Visit all of the parks in your area, see what you like about each and what interests you. Talk to everyone. Take advice, give advice, trade stories.

There is a growing number of women in skateboarding. The more we put ourselves into these male dominated places and support each other on our journeys, the easier it becomes to build safe spaces for women to try new things and have fun.

It could be a coincidence that my world changed when I started skating, but I think skating changed the way I am in the world.

Exposure to new environments and skateparks doesn’t just make you a better skater, it expands you as a whole and gives you earned confidence that you can fit in anywhere.

It doesn’t mean that I don’t still feel uncomfortable walking into a new space, but I do have more strength to open myself up to what the park can offer me and what I can offer in return.

I come to skateparks with the hope that I will feel the joy, freedom, and challenge that got me hooked in the first place.

You don’t need to be the best in the park. You don’t need to be better than you were yesterday.

Allow yourself to enjoy every part of being a beginner, and a woman who is doing something that takes guts.

Keep skating out of your comfort zone and if you’re lucky, you will meet people who choose to spend their time learning, falling, laughing and playing the same as you along the way.