NOVEMBER 15 — I got on a skateboard last week.
As soon as I pushed off with my back leg, my front leg planted on the board, and felt the ground seem to slip beneath me I had two thoughts.
The first: I am going to die.
The second: This is strangely exhilarating.
I won’t deny my impulsiveness is a big weakness.
My bank account would probably be a lot bigger if I didn’t suddenly decide to do things on a whim but at least I have now banned myself from going on Shopee after midnight.
I can almost understand why people are so blasé now about living in a pandemic and gleefully discarding masks like they were yesterday’s bell bottoms.
After all, isn’t skateboarding a risky activity? Won’t I be risking breaking bones, twisting ankles, or getting a concussion?
Yet a quick look at statistics show that skateboarding isn’t in the top five of sports injuries, even if it is listed as an “extreme sport.”
More people get injured playing football, cycling or playing basketball.
It isn’t even that hard to prevent skateboard injuries. A lot of it is common sense.
Wear protective gear, don’t skate in dangerous conditions (after the rain, in heavy traffic) and maybe reconsider that dangerous skating trick if your skill isn’t there yet.
Like renovating an old house
I had to spend a lot for repairs on this old place I stayed in these last couple of years.
Yet I haven’t thought enough about the integrity of the body that gets me through my days.
If my rental falls apart, I can just move. But my body and me, we’re stuck with each other.
I still hate exercise. I hate that now I am so conditioned to sleep early that I am dead to the world by 1am.
My body wakes up at seven in the morning to give me more time to run.
I say my body because I do not set alarms. My body, unlike me, loves exercise.
My joints move as though they were oiled after a morning run. My muscles no longer seize up doing things as simple as reaching for something on my bedside table.
My body is a traitor and unwilling to continue to be an accomplice to my sloth.
After giving it a lot of thought I do not think a marathon is in my future. Spending so much time trying to endure nearly 50 kilometres of running? I have too many things in my life I don’t want to give up yet.
Instead I want to see just how much lower my resting heart rate can go, how much further I can get my hamstrings to stretch and whether in a year I will be confident enough in my skills on my cruiser board to “upgrade” to a smaller, more traditional skateboard.
Before my body breaks I’d like to see how much it can learn to do. Because at least this pandemic has made me grateful that it, like me, is too stubborn to go down that easily
* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.
