Bored to Board

After the announcement of a nationwide lockdown, I booked the first train up to Ottawa from Toronto to stay with my two older sisters. Seeing as that I wouldn’t have to pay for food or rent, the idea seemed more advantageous than not for a broke college student like myself looking to save up on whatever pennies I could.

The days seemed long, routine slowly kicked in, and I eventually became accustomed to the sedentary lifestyle of quarantine. I found myself browsing through the Criterion collection and YouTube daily for new films to watch and snacking on whatever I could find in the kitchen cabinets. It started off as a well needed break from the egregious demands of the outside world. A little vacation if you will. It was nice to finally have some down time for myself and the freedom to choose what to do with it.

But day by day, I grew more and more lonely. I longed for drinks with friends. Cruising down to the beach in a 4x4 and capturing all of life’s fleeting moments on film. I missed social interaction. I thought that with all of this extra free time on my hands, I should at least put some of it to good use. Start small and learn a new activity or sport. Maybe even a language—French seemed like the smart choice seeing as that half the city speaks it. But most importantly, I needed something that could give me the shot of social dopamine I’d been craving since being confined without breaking any government restrictions.

I began organizing zoom parties with some French filmmakers that I’d met on a language exchange app called Tandem. It started off great. We were all avid storytellers dying to share our take on films and shows we’d recommended to one another. We’d spend the evenings drinking and playing games on Discord. It was nice seeing new friends staying happy and healthy during one of the craziest moments to have ever happened in our lifetime. But as the old saying goes: all good things must come to an end.

Eventually time zones became difficult to sync up and chats became clouded with the sounds of two thundering voices bickering from the living room. Conversations always pertaining to unimportant dinner details like how the pair shouldn’t choose the same catering restaurant or how the guest list shoudn't include our close cousin Sarah because apperently she talks "too damn much" for their liking. The zoom parties discontinued and I was once again consumed by feelings of isolation. I needed something–anything–to save me from all the incessant noise and maybe get me out of the house for a couple of hours.

Then I remembered that I'd watched a film a while back called Mid90s where the main character, Stevie, takes up skateboarding to escape his troubled homelife. Since I'd found myself to be in a very similar predicament, I set my mind on doing the same. I started following a few female skateboarders on Instagram and I was pleasantly surprised by what I'd seen. The multitude of cool flips and tricks. The comradery boarders had for one another based on a mutual love for the sport. The women were absolute beasts on the board; falling only to rise up with smile as if taking a hard hit to ground hadn't hurt one bit.

Once the malls reopened in late June, I hurried down to West49 to purchase my first skateboard. I didn’t want to be appear like a poser and accidentally pick out the wrong size board so I asked a friend of mine who skateboards to come join. She told me that buying a pre-made board was probably my safest bet as I was just starting off. I took her advice and purchased a completed deck, eager to get on as soon as I possibly could.

I wasn’t planning on trying any crazy tricks just yet as I was more focused on mastering the basics of how to ride, turn, and stop. Our home was situated beside an elementary school with an outdoor hockey rink. Since everyone was staying indoors most days, the rink became the perfect place to start trying out my newfound hobby. I knew that I had no choice but to take this seriously if I was to truly improve and call myself a skateboarder.

I got myself ready every morning before anyone else in the house had woken up and sped as fast as could to the rink. I quickly recalled how to push forward and keep momentum as memories from my penny boarding days came back. I rode in circles around the rink over and over again, leaning forward and putting pressure on my back foot to steer. Left and right, I moved swiftly as to avoid the little rocks scattered sporadically across the cement ground. The cool wind against my face. I felt like a bird zooming through the air with every twist and turn. The motions started to feel natural as if the board and I had somehow morphed into one cohesive unit.

Early morning practices provided the fresh air that I'd needed after being trapped in the house for so long. I soon became attached to my board, never leaving the house without it. I’d offer my services for last minute grocery store runs whenever my sisters had ran out of items and volunteer to take the mail out to the post office. I spent most summer nights riding over to the park to watch the sunset by the lake, simply taking in all of nature’s beauty that I’d never stopped to appreciate beforehand.

Time went on, winter grew near, wedding dinners planned and attended, and yet another impending lockdown on the cusp of commencement. I discontinued my skateboarding excursions and I was forced indoors once again but with a different mindset and attitude. Everything somehow seemed brighter. I think back to last summer and reminisce over how much joy skateboarding brought me during one of the loneliest times in my life. I could coast down late night roads and enjoy all of life’s simple moments without much worry of what seemed like the beginning of the end, a new pre-apocalyptic era of sorts. Now come this summer, my sisters are both married and soon moving out. I’m on my way back to Toronto to complete my bachelor’s degree. I have 6 months of skateboaring to catch up on in the big city so, until September comes.

You'll know where to find me.