It took me five years of skateboarding before I felt in control. I spent five years then, mostly falling and looking like an idiot. But for some reason, I never once felt bad about falling or looking like an idiot. Instead, it pushed me further, made me want to master skateboarding even worse.
And as I’ve gotten older I’ve noticed, this cycle of looking like an idiot, of not knowing what you’re doing, happens in every creative discipline. Entrepreneurs, artists, and writers all have to deal with it daily. When I look back on my teenage years, I am glad I spent so much of them looking like an idiot, failing and falling. It has set me up perfectly for life in general. I no longer fear failure, I don’t fear falling. And I especially don’t listen to the people who laugh when others fall.
The other day, I was skateboarding downtown. As I was bombing a hill, full speed, in the zone, I ollied over a manhole effortlessly.
And as I did so I heard someone say sarcastically:
“Wow, you’re soooo good.”
And I couldn’t help but laugh and feel sorry for the person. I spent so much of my life, getting to the point where I felt fluid and in control on this dumb piece of wood. And that control, that mastery I was threatening to this person. The first thing that pops into his head was “wow, what a douchebag for showing off.”
But I think back, and that’s the same person who made fun of me when I was learning. The person who didn’t want me to believe mastery was possible on a skateboard, that I was delusional in thinking I could ever be good. He was still making fun of people even after they’d stopped falling every two seconds.
In doing anything well, in doing anything difficult, there will be a point where you look like an idiot. Where you fall on your face in front of a bunch of people. And people start laughing. That laughter should not be what scares you.
What should scare you is becoming that person who needs to laugh at other people failing and falling.
The greatest life lesson learned as a skateboarder was to ignore these types of people. They are everywhere, and they are constantly trying to inject their venom into other people. Instead, just put your head down and get to work, daily. Without judging yourself, just practicing and working towards your dream.
And I can’t even really remember what made me immune from those people. I do, however, remember sitting at home, aged 10, and watching my first skateboard video.
I watched, and I just imagined how great it must feel to have that level of control. To be so fluid and agile, interpreting and adapting while flowing further down a line. I knew I wanted that mastery, I wanted to feel that control for myself.
And so, somehow, I put up with the complete lack of control for a long time. I put up with sprained ankles, bruised shins, bloody elbows, and everything else. Getting to the point of mastery mattered more to me than any of that other pain. Still now, I don’t understand it.
But it does serve me well. I know, no matter what, if I have something I want badly enough, I can have it. No matter what anyone says, no matter how many injuries it takes to get there.
So now, laser beams of focus shoot out when I see a goal.
The only question for me now is: What is worth pursuing? Where should this focus be directed?
