I Chose Skateboarding for My Mid-Life Crisis
If I were Anne Hathaway I’d get a magazine cover dedicated to the occasion. But I’m not, so I must create my magazine cover.
“Hey! Where are your elbow pads!?”
I held the board still with one foot. The voice came from across the street and belonged to my recently deceased neighbor’s adult son. (What a mouthful.) I’d gotten to know the family a little as they worked to clean up their matriarch’s house and we were now friendly.
“You’re learning to skateboard!?”
Shit. More eyes on me.
This new voice belonged to my next-door neighbor, who was on her way to the estate sale across the street.
“Welcome to my mid-life crisis!” I replied.
My neighbor didn’t laugh at my attempt at a joke.
“I admire that you’re learning something new! I wish more people would do that!”
Huh. Maybe I shouldn’t be so self-effacing.
Yep, I am learning to skateboard at the ripe old age of almost 40. (My birthday is in two months.) If I were Anne Hathaway I’d get a magazine cover dedicated to the occasion. But I’m not, so I must create my magazine cover.
I wanted to honor this milestone and the notorious mid-life crisis that comes along with it. While I don’t feel like I’m in a crisis, it’s still a good reason to do something that scares me and is societally outlandish for my age.
There are two primary reasons I chose skateboarding:
I want my nephew to think I’m cool
It could help my chronic pain
It’s well known I am not comfortable in my own skin. I live with chronic migraine and chronic back and shoulder pain. The migraine attacks come and go, however, I have not felt true relief in my back since I had ankle surgery five years ago.
I knew this pain stemmed from my body’s right side overcompensating for the left while I healed. I was on crutches for four weeks and in a boot another six. I lived in a city and relied on my feet a lot, complicating the healing process. My body has long paid the price for 10 weeks of uneven crutching and walking.
What does skateboarding have to do with this?
It’s a way to strengthen my ankle so my right side no longer has to overcompensate for my left side’s weakness. Typical balancing exercises are boring as hell and do not motivate my undiagnosed ADHD brain. With skateboarding, I can create small goals, get that dopamine rush when I hit them and engage micro-muscles that desperately need strengthening.
The universe wants me to skateboard
The idea was in my head for a few months before I spoke it out loud. Thinking about doing something and talking about doing something are two very different things, ya know.
Yard sale season was in full swing when I finally felt confident enough to put spoken words to my plan. My husband, Dave, suggested we try looking for a skateboard at some neighborhood sales. Skateboarding is a hobby kids either give up on or grow out of, so my chances were higher than if I went with my No. 2 choice, relearning bass guitar.
So, at 10 a.m. on a Friday, we took off to our first yard sale that day.
I was sifting through some accessories when I heard Dave’s voice.
“Did you see there’s a skateboard?”
Holy shit, the universe clearly wants this for me. Thanks, girlie.
I held the skateboard with a huge grin. Its to-be former owner saw.
“Take it, I won’t charge you.”
My eyes grew wide with shock.
“No, I can pay. I want to pay.”
“I’m serious, that thing is so ugly I’d feel bad charging you.”
My eyes saw beauty. I saw my body getting stronger. I saw hope and relief, with the board representing my journey there. I realized I wanted this new activity more than I intentionally thought.
I giddily threw my skateboard in the trunk. The timing was perfect.
Nice and slow
I was very serious about starting slowly.
After enduring chronic pain flares for years, I know ‘overdoing it’ has a different meaning for me, compared to somebody who is able-bodied.
My first few times out with my board didn’t even last five minutes. Through being a painter, I’ve learned I become sloppy and frustrated after doing an activity for too long. I wasn’t looking to break any bones, so I pulled from my painting experience and put the board away when I felt my focus slip.
I prioritized balance first. I knew I had the whole summer to practice, so I made deals with myself—no forward movement, just standing on the board until I felt completely steady. While I didn’t feel good during those first few attempts, I certainly didn’t feel bad. I committed myself to the challenge.
I’ve now owned my skateboard for a month and my new extracurricular hasn’t been easy. Between this new skill and physical therapy twice weekly, my body screamed a great, big HELL NO at me. Instead of quitting out of pain and frustration, I’m learning to respect my body’s needs and remember that this rollercoaster is the quickest way to my goal, whether I like it or not.
My physical therapist is proud of me, too. She’s impressed with my improved balance, which further motivates me to continue and get better. And while I’m not great, good or OK at the activity, I’m making progress. My goals are small. Stand on my board without falling. Skate halfway to the STOP sign. Skate to the STOP sign. Skate around the corner.
What helps is I don’t have an end goal, so I can’t get frustrated with myself. I keep making little goals and smashing them, which is a great feeling for someone entering their next decade.
Freedom at forty
Forty represents something different for everyone. It’s freedom to me.
After spending most of my adulthood trying to prove myself, I don’t have much more to prove. I’m saying ‘no’ a lot more and I’m comfortable with people not liking me for it, including family members.
I have authority at this age. I am now considered an expert in my field and have more than 15 years of proof to back it up. My twenties and most of my thirties were spent defending my expertise. Now that I’m nearing 40, my work is rarely contested. Time has given me power. I have a track record that’s strong enough to back up my value and I am very selective about who gets my time because, again, I have nothing more to prove.
The energy I spent trying to prove myself is now used to reclaim my time. I’m done being exploited in work and personal relationships and will no longer stick around based on a promise things will get better. (They never do.) With my boundaries up sky-high, I have more time and energy for leisure. I’m writing more about the topics I choose, I’ve found purpose in painting and my chronic pain has finally calmed down enough for me to sit and read comfortably.
My twenties were about surviving, my thirties were about reinvention and as I approach my forties, I see comfort and stability. Do you know how much I’ve been craving comfort and stability? In the past 20 years, I’ve lived in three homes, nine apartments and one trailer. I am EXHAUSTED. I bought my latest home in 2022 and I plan on dying in it.
Truthfully, forty feels like coming up for air.
“You’ve spent your adult life running through trauma,” my therapist said two years ago.
Though I hadn’t previously considered her assessment, she was right. With her help, I could stop running and start processing. I still have a lot to process but the worst is over. I can breathe now.
In recent years, I’ve filled my metaphorical lungs with goodness. I find joy in making art for others, I’ve joined a really good trivia team, I’m more present in my relationships and most importantly, I try to be the best aunt to exist. And, as I quickly approach the big 4-0, I now have a skateboard to add to the list.
I live with chronic migraine, which affects how much work I can take on. On average, I lose one workweek a month to migraine attacks. Not a Fit for Our Publication is my way to raise funds to manage my disease while offering something in return. You can help me out by subscribing to Not a Fit for Our Publication, sharing the website, sharing a free blog post and gifting a subscription.