Fear

The smell of fresh pine is still strong even though it has been well layered with wood preserver and epoxy. I can’t smell those chemicals but I can smell the neighbour’s dog. I can almost feel the gritty surface of my skateboard through my shoe. I move my foot, tiny movements to the left and right, desperate to find the perfect position. So tuned are my senses that I hear my shoe rasping over the grit, the sound amplified by unseen speakers. My garden stretches away in front of me in various hues of iridescent green and lies drenched after days of rain. Some distance ahead of me the mighty Helderberg’s majestic bulk imposes its presence. Behind me somewhere is the sea, but I would not be able to see it even if I did dare to look around. I wonder if the neighbours are watching me standing at the top of my halfpipe. Absolutely paralysed with fear! Their windows reflect the setting sun, leaving my imagination to run wild with possibility.

The back of my skateboard rests comfortably on the metal rail which marks the top of the halfpipe. I can feel the back wheels resting firmly on the deck. I know that they are ready to slide, to harness the power of gravity and drop me senseless to the hard deck miles below. Theoretically I have to do everything in my power to prevent them from doing just that. Somehow I have to tame them, make them work for me, to harness their power and fly. Instead the front of my skateboard protrudes resolutely above the ramp like some plank that needs to be walked. If I let my imagination run far enough, I know I will see the sharks milling around in the waters below me, waiting to feast on my warm beating heart.

I am frozen. Not with cold but fear! The ramp stretches down below me, endlessly. With conviction I remind myself that I have made this drop four times before. I know that while the statement might be true, the results were far from successful. The last drop resulted in a twisted ankle and wrist. Yet here I am, madly standing on the edge of this precipice attempting to do it again. My mind leaps back past those injuries to the other time I attempted to drop into a halfpipe. My toes curl inside my shoe as I remember how I tore all of the ligaments in my one foot. If I get this wrong again, that same foot is going to need some serious medical attention.

In the back of my mind, I know that this is not something I am going to do once and then be satisfied that I have achieved. Instead I want to be able to do it fearlessly with ease! There seems to be a solid yet invisible wall between where I am and the point where I can begin to move again. Perhaps I am not ready? Perhaps I need to continue practising my drop in on my specially created gadget at a much lower level? Perhaps I will never be ready? Can I accept the consequences of getting this wrong again? Are the odds stacked too high in the favour of my fear?

I shake my head, pick up my skateboard, and slide down the ramp on my butt. The fear has me tightly bound in her clutches. I feel empty and beaten. I look back at the top of the ramp and wonder how something so small could terrify me so deeply?