My Skating Experience - by Nikita Raevskiy
It was a foggy Vladivostok summer morning, pretty usual weather conditions for the old city in the middle of a burning July. I woke up without any bright remembrance of yesterday and without any hopes for a good today. I was still lying on my wood colored bed. It was five minutes before the alarm, as my recently subscribed Facebook group, called “Real Life Achievements” said, I was a “Timekeeper” (I woke up five minutes before the alarm). That’s what the whole group was about, you do something in order someone says it should be then you achieve it… Achieved, I caught myself on a thought. I got out of my bed and turned on some music on my iPod. Today my choice was “The Doors”. Not like that I am deep into listening to classic rock, but I definitely liked the gentle way Jim Morrison built his melodies. The song was called “Tell all the people”… I had no idea what to tell the people, so I let my day get started.
Just to let you know, I am a 15 year old teenager with a set vision for my life. Believe me or not, I always follow them, and that is why I already have my dream job, a professional skater, which I am really happy about. I am renting a small apartment for 15 000 rubles a month. From my point of view, I am doing well enough for a 15 year old. I make enough money for a kind of existence. As you may guess, I am pretty independent and free. I rarely go to school, which I do not regret, because I know what my future will be like. I always have plans and I can actually picture them. Lots of grown-ups can barely find a job related to their major; I am not even talking about their dream job. Anyways, I am already slightly a little bit off topic.
I already brushed my teeth and did every important morning task, besides eating breakfast. As one famous Russian general used to say, “Eat breakfast by yourself, have lunch with a friend, and leave supper to your enemy.” In my case, I would love to share my breakfast with a close friend of mine. He lived on the second floor of our stinky building.
His name was Freddy. I had known this funny person since my happy, shiny childhood. He had long straight hair; it was the kind of long hair you see people head-banging with at a heavy-metal concert, hair that would go all the way down your face. I was running down the old dirty stairs of our apartment building. It took me two minutes to make my small little journey to the second floor. I knocked on the rusty door of his apartment, which was colored acid green. Last week he and I had colored it this way.
“Come in, the door is opened, you might have known better than anybody else!” my friend answered with some kind of displeasure in his voice.
I ignored that and just replied a greeting back. He was wearing his blue-and-white striped pajamas with holes in the knees and other places that would not be very polite to describe. He had big green eyes and a small nose, which was kind of strange looking.
“What’s up?” I asked him with my bass voice and looked outside of the window trying to imagine that something unusual was happening there.
“Man, I’m all-right; I just bought myself the new “Girl” board. Can’t wait to check it out!” he said with excitement, which you could hardly ever hear from him. “Maybe we should go and check out some new spots in the city, I heard there are some sick rails and a bunch of gaps in the new building plaza area!” He seemed even more excited this time.
“Let it be,” I calmly replied. “Let’s do this.” I looked at his eyes this time, while I started eating my instant noodles and sandwiches with fake meat sausages (we called it that way), that my friend prepared for me while we were talking. So, that’s why we were riding our boards down to the bus stop.
The sun was showing through the tensile fog. I could see it smiling at me through the leaves of the trees. I saw sad people who were visibly concerned, but I didn’t really care. The only thing I was putting my thoughts into, was the new spot that was two hours away from me. We were now standing on the ruined bus stop, which was in repairing process (at least that’s what a sign said). We were quietly waiting for the bus, while his top slowly appeared above the road’s horizon.
We came into the stuffy old bus, which was probably around ten years old. Luckily enough there was a double seat that was free. I was curiously observing the unusual features people’s faces. This was my favorite thing to do while taking the bus. There sat a man who looked maybe 35 years old. He had big brown eyebrows which looked very humorous and quite unimaginable, but here he was!
“Check this one out! A guy with brown eyebrows, just look at that…! That is impossible!” I almost screamed it out at my friends face.
“Scream louder and every single bus passenger will know that guy has brown eyebrows!” my friend muttered angrily.
Then suddenly each of us started giggling really loud, because two other kids sitting nearby, heard us talk, and started talking about the guy’s eyebrows even louder than we did.
“Hey! You two stop laughing! You think that no one can hear you! Stupid skateboarders! Why don’t you stay quiet like normal people!” someone yelled madly from the middle of the black crowd of the bus.
Weren’t it those two nearby sitters who were laughing? Would those “normal” people have any kind of respect for skaters? And why do skaters have to take all the blame every time? Why, every single time I take the bus with my board, someone gives me some stupid ‘advice’? They talked about how I should be, and how I should act in the society of wasted 35 year old people. I am more than sure that they do not even have a regular job. They all look same. They wear black socks under sandals. Where have you seen that kind of fashion? How can this be called a ‘normal’ way of living? Or even dressing?
We now finally arrived at our destination. It was a true paradise for skaters, just like my friend described it for me on the bus: big gaps, an interesting terrain, wall-rides, some design elements that could be used as quarter pipes and of course there were rails. Pretty sweet!
Surprise! There already were some familiar faces skating. I knew them all. We had a small and peaceful skating community in our city. There were around 50 people skating regularly, so we knew each other pretty well. I could see Kazak, Moba and Lutoy (those were the nicknames I told you about). Each of them had funny story attached to it.
“Peace man. How are things going? How do you like the new spot? Have you tried something sick yet?” I asked Moba, full of hopes that he really did something outstanding.
“Oh man, you know what…not yet, I am not feeling like ripping the spot, no, no, no, not today. Well, see if you can get something.” He seemed very relaxed every time when he was talking. He just had that kind of character. He wore hippy color clothes, sweaters that were two sizes bigger than his regular size. He always smiled and he had dreads.
“All-right…let’s see. I feel like I may get something sick on this spot.” I exclaimed as I was really going to something awesome. “Peace Freddy! Let’s go and check that huge rail near the sidewalk, and don’t forget the camera,” I told him.
“Yeah-right… filming…I almost forgot. Ok, see what you can do, ah?” Freddy smiled the special grin that only he could form with his mouth.
I was now here standing on the edge of the gap. I was trying to understand what trick I was going to do, and what was even more important, the way I was going to make it? The gap was really huge and massive, the rail pretty long and high as well. I was a bit afraid. ‘How am I going to make it?’ I thought.
After a while all thoughts came clear and my mind was empty. I was ready to take an attempt. Everything just for the moment when you are sliding, you either jump and get on the rail and do your trick or you smash on the ground. That is cruel rule of skateboarding.
I walked five meters away from the edge. ‘Here it goes.’ I thought for myself. I got as much speed as I could. I was feeling the rough ground underneath my wheels. There were a few meters before the edge. Here it comes, the moment when I jump. I was trying to do the lip slide: A very hard trick.
First, I have to say that, every time I am going in for a big trick, every moment, every second seems really clear and lasts longer than any other second spend on the ground. I got up onto the rail, and actually I even “slid” the rail a bit. But then, something went wrong, and I didn’t land properly. I slammed hard into the ground. I fell right on my back and rubbed my skin to blood. ‘Not a big deal,’ I thought.
I took another attempt, but it ended in failure as well. ‘What else can I say, that is part of my job,’ I thought. ‘Rise up and do it over again, until you get it the way you want it to be,’ I told myself.
I rose up, and I was about to again take on the rail. Now I was standing five meters away from the rail as I did last time. I was ready for the epic jump. I thought, ‘now or never,’ and went for it. With maximum speed, everything went pretty smoothly, everything came onto its place, my feet in the right position, everything was just the way it should be.
As I have already said, in the air, seconds feel like an eternity. I could feel every moment of the process. You know what, in my opinion, here is the beauty and the uniqueness of skateboarding: every time you fall, you wish to achieve, to get back up, to land the trick. You wish so badly that you can’t control yourself, and you are wiping out again and again, to achieve it. This is what its beauty is all about.
Just to let you know, I am a 15 year old teenager with a set vision for my life. Believe me or not, I always follow them, and that is why I already have my dream job, a professional skater, which I am really happy about. I am renting a small apartment for 15 000 rubles a month. From my point of view, I am doing well enough for a 15 year old. I make enough money for a kind of existence. As you may guess, I am pretty independent and free. I rarely go to school, which I do not regret, because I know what my future will be like. I always have plans and I can actually picture them. Lots of grown-ups can barely find a job related to their major; I am not even talking about their dream job. Anyways, I am already slightly a little bit off topic.
I already brushed my teeth and did every important morning task, besides eating breakfast. As one famous Russian general used to say, “Eat breakfast by yourself, have lunch with a friend, and leave supper to your enemy.” In my case, I would love to share my breakfast with a close friend of mine. He lived on the second floor of our stinky building.
His name was Freddy. I had known this funny person since my happy, shiny childhood. He had long straight hair; it was the kind of long hair you see people head-banging with at a heavy-metal concert, hair that would go all the way down your face. I was running down the old dirty stairs of our apartment building. It took me two minutes to make my small little journey to the second floor. I knocked on the rusty door of his apartment, which was colored acid green. Last week he and I had colored it this way.
“Come in, the door is opened, you might have known better than anybody else!” my friend answered with some kind of displeasure in his voice.
I ignored that and just replied a greeting back. He was wearing his blue-and-white striped pajamas with holes in the knees and other places that would not be very polite to describe. He had big green eyes and a small nose, which was kind of strange looking.
“What’s up?” I asked him with my bass voice and looked outside of the window trying to imagine that something unusual was happening there.
“Man, I’m all-right; I just bought myself the new “Girl” board. Can’t wait to check it out!” he said with excitement, which you could hardly ever hear from him. “Maybe we should go and check out some new spots in the city, I heard there are some sick rails and a bunch of gaps in the new building plaza area!” He seemed even more excited this time.
“Let it be,” I calmly replied. “Let’s do this.” I looked at his eyes this time, while I started eating my instant noodles and sandwiches with fake meat sausages (we called it that way), that my friend prepared for me while we were talking. So, that’s why we were riding our boards down to the bus stop.
The sun was showing through the tensile fog. I could see it smiling at me through the leaves of the trees. I saw sad people who were visibly concerned, but I didn’t really care. The only thing I was putting my thoughts into, was the new spot that was two hours away from me. We were now standing on the ruined bus stop, which was in repairing process (at least that’s what a sign said). We were quietly waiting for the bus, while his top slowly appeared above the road’s horizon.
We came into the stuffy old bus, which was probably around ten years old. Luckily enough there was a double seat that was free. I was curiously observing the unusual features people’s faces. This was my favorite thing to do while taking the bus. There sat a man who looked maybe 35 years old. He had big brown eyebrows which looked very humorous and quite unimaginable, but here he was!
“Check this one out! A guy with brown eyebrows, just look at that…! That is impossible!” I almost screamed it out at my friends face.
“Scream louder and every single bus passenger will know that guy has brown eyebrows!” my friend muttered angrily.
Then suddenly each of us started giggling really loud, because two other kids sitting nearby, heard us talk, and started talking about the guy’s eyebrows even louder than we did.
“Hey! You two stop laughing! You think that no one can hear you! Stupid skateboarders! Why don’t you stay quiet like normal people!” someone yelled madly from the middle of the black crowd of the bus.
Weren’t it those two nearby sitters who were laughing? Would those “normal” people have any kind of respect for skaters? And why do skaters have to take all the blame every time? Why, every single time I take the bus with my board, someone gives me some stupid ‘advice’? They talked about how I should be, and how I should act in the society of wasted 35 year old people. I am more than sure that they do not even have a regular job. They all look same. They wear black socks under sandals. Where have you seen that kind of fashion? How can this be called a ‘normal’ way of living? Or even dressing?
We now finally arrived at our destination. It was a true paradise for skaters, just like my friend described it for me on the bus: big gaps, an interesting terrain, wall-rides, some design elements that could be used as quarter pipes and of course there were rails. Pretty sweet!
Surprise! There already were some familiar faces skating. I knew them all. We had a small and peaceful skating community in our city. There were around 50 people skating regularly, so we knew each other pretty well. I could see Kazak, Moba and Lutoy (those were the nicknames I told you about). Each of them had funny story attached to it.
“Peace man. How are things going? How do you like the new spot? Have you tried something sick yet?” I asked Moba, full of hopes that he really did something outstanding.
“Oh man, you know what…not yet, I am not feeling like ripping the spot, no, no, no, not today. Well, see if you can get something.” He seemed very relaxed every time when he was talking. He just had that kind of character. He wore hippy color clothes, sweaters that were two sizes bigger than his regular size. He always smiled and he had dreads.
“All-right…let’s see. I feel like I may get something sick on this spot.” I exclaimed as I was really going to something awesome. “Peace Freddy! Let’s go and check that huge rail near the sidewalk, and don’t forget the camera,” I told him.
“Yeah-right… filming…I almost forgot. Ok, see what you can do, ah?” Freddy smiled the special grin that only he could form with his mouth.
I was now here standing on the edge of the gap. I was trying to understand what trick I was going to do, and what was even more important, the way I was going to make it? The gap was really huge and massive, the rail pretty long and high as well. I was a bit afraid. ‘How am I going to make it?’ I thought.
After a while all thoughts came clear and my mind was empty. I was ready to take an attempt. Everything just for the moment when you are sliding, you either jump and get on the rail and do your trick or you smash on the ground. That is cruel rule of skateboarding.
I walked five meters away from the edge. ‘Here it goes.’ I thought for myself. I got as much speed as I could. I was feeling the rough ground underneath my wheels. There were a few meters before the edge. Here it comes, the moment when I jump. I was trying to do the lip slide: A very hard trick.
First, I have to say that, every time I am going in for a big trick, every moment, every second seems really clear and lasts longer than any other second spend on the ground. I got up onto the rail, and actually I even “slid” the rail a bit. But then, something went wrong, and I didn’t land properly. I slammed hard into the ground. I fell right on my back and rubbed my skin to blood. ‘Not a big deal,’ I thought.
I took another attempt, but it ended in failure as well. ‘What else can I say, that is part of my job,’ I thought. ‘Rise up and do it over again, until you get it the way you want it to be,’ I told myself.
I rose up, and I was about to again take on the rail. Now I was standing five meters away from the rail as I did last time. I was ready for the epic jump. I thought, ‘now or never,’ and went for it. With maximum speed, everything went pretty smoothly, everything came onto its place, my feet in the right position, everything was just the way it should be.
As I have already said, in the air, seconds feel like an eternity. I could feel every moment of the process. You know what, in my opinion, here is the beauty and the uniqueness of skateboarding: every time you fall, you wish to achieve, to get back up, to land the trick. You wish so badly that you can’t control yourself, and you are wiping out again and again, to achieve it. This is what its beauty is all about.