Wednesday, February 6, 2013

I would like to consider myself a purist, in the purest sense of the word. A more negative synonym of this would in fact be the term elitist. I've always strived to not come off as elitist, however, through ways that are of no surprise to anyone who knows me on a personal level (sarcasm, poorly worded phrases, jokes taken as digs, unbridled dickitude), I've often come off as an elitist, a pompous asshole, or as a pretentious dick. All of these have been true at one point or another. I've came off like a dick and not even realized it until after the fact to people I look up to. Perhaps this hindsight might be due to my tendency to over analyze a lot of minute details of interactions I've had with other human beings in the past. This semi-crippling aspect of my life does have its ups and downs, to be fair, as I can recall little nuances about things that I should not recall to such a great detail, like how Danny Renaud's song in Mosaic was used as a Mosaic promotional trailer soundtrack in 411#50.

As a history major, I seem to over analyze lots of minute details that seemingly have no effect on how the past transpired. For example, FDR had polio, and could barely walk. He was never seen in public in his wheel chair, and whenever he made a speech/public appearance, he would hobble/stand as best he could with the support of leg braces/leaning on things. The press knew this. However, the general public didn't. Can you imagine how the 2012 presidential race would have went if Romney couldn't walk? Today's media would have a field day with it (this could be argued that this is due to today's society/media being more equipped with cameras on our phones, digital photo/video cameras that fit in our pocket and the Internet). I just spent an entire paragraph on an online Detroit-area skateboarding blog talking about FDR and how a secret like his would not have existed in today's society.

This entry does have a point.
I suffered from an ankle injury this past November. This is relatively normal for skateboarders, but, this injury was different. I went to an indoor park and rolled my ankle, thought everything was fine, skated a few days later, and all of a sudden my ankle swelled up. Eventually I discovered that due to years of rolling my left ankle, I was suffering from an ankle impingement, which means that I had a bone spur on my talus bone (which is the bone that connects your foot to your ankle/shin).

When I found out what happens to cause a bone spur, I realized that I fit the requirements to a T. It happens in athletes who have had a lot of minor ankle sprains in the same area, and generally it takes a month of physical therapy, followed by about a month of normal activity for your ankle to feel normal again (barring complications). I found this out about a month after I had injured myself, and was crushed.
"'TWO MONTHS off my board?", I thought, "I go crazy after two days off my board!".
I had never been unable to skate for that long. This was a crippling blow to say the least. I had horrible fears of my weight ballooning, my ankle never getting better, me going through withdrawal symptoms, having to relearn all my tricks, and not seeing my friends.

After months off of my skateboard, I finally enjoyed a nice indoor session with The Mayor, and all seemed well. I can't go hard in the paint just yet, but nothing beats the feeling of dropping in and hitting coping for the first time in months, the feeling of rolling away from a kickflip, the feeling of being out of breath after a run on the mini ramp, the feeling of shooting out. These are all things I missed dearly.

However, as this article begins to wrap up, some readers might recall me stating that I have the problem of over analyzing everything in my life. I analyzed minute details till the metaphorical cows came metaphorically home. I analyzed how to not bruise ones heel when doing your best Reynolds impression. I picked up the paint pens a few times. I picked up the needle and thread more than a few times.

But really, I analyzed a lot of skate videos (local and otherwise) in between 3am sessions of Mega Man X and work, and I also day dreamed about spots and claimed tricks. The one conclusion I kept returning to is that my prior feelings on skateboarding spots may have been erroneous. It seemed fine to pompously state that the only skateboarding that matters is city skating (Authors note: I avoided the term urban skating). Skating is skating, and it is not serious enough to take so seriously. Skate where you want and never complain about what spot you're at, where you wish you were, how it is too hot or too cold, or any other common complaints skateboarders fall into. Those months I was off of my skateboard, I began dreaming about hitting up spots in the city, then spots in the suburb, then indoor parks, till it got to the point where I literally could have set my board in the grass and done stationary Ollies ALL day (this is how I learned to Ollie) and I would have been completely content.

Sometimes life deals you the card you deserve in order to provide you a reality check.

Word up to Dr. Waldrop and my dogs at Professional Physical Therapy.

Location:Raw Vegan Juice (know the ledge)

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