What Skateboarding Taught Me About Never Giving Up
Skateboarding is more than just a sport—it's a relentless teacher in the art of perseverance, a journey filled with both exhilarating highs and soul-crushing lows. Over the years, I've had my share of near-catastrophic falls, each one a brutal reminder of life's fragility and a powerful lesson in never giving up. Here are two of my most defining experiences that reshaped my outlook on skateboarding, life, and faith.
Bombing the Hill: The Day I Learned to Slow Down
It was Easter Weekend at Santa Monica Pier, and I was working at the Candy Cart. Like so many times before, I decided to "bomb the hill"—that is, to skate down as fast as I possibly could on my way to work down the hill leading to the pier. The thrill was undeniable, and the adrenaline coursed through my veins. But even as I prepared to speed up, I could feel the Holy Spirit urging me to slow down. Somehow, I ignored that inner warning, giving in to a couple of extra pushes to reach maximum speed.
About halfway down the hill, with my heart pounding at 30 mph, a cop car turned the corner driving up the hill. It was a new officer, and as he began broadcasting, "No skateboarding on the pier!" I knew I was in trouble. In those split seconds, everything slowed down. I realized I had two options:
- Dodge the cop and risk catastrophic injury to both myself and others.
- Bail from my board and slide down the hill, accepting that I would hurt myself.
I chose the second option. I ditched my board and tried to baseball slide—only to miscalculate. The full force of my speed slammed into my knee, then my hip (with my keys attached to my carabiner), and finally my forearm. In that slow-motion moment, I watched in disbelief as every key scattered in different directions.
A kind stranger rushed over to help me, and despite the chaos, I cracked a laugh, saying, "Slow down, man! I dropped my keys." Even as he cursed the officer for his reckless interference, I defended him saying: "He was only trying to keep people safe." That day, the doctor’s words nearly broke me: “You will never be able to skateboard again.” But I replied, “With all due respect, doc, miracles happen every day.”
Over the next three months, I re-learned how to walk, leaning on my roommates and my grandmother for help with crutches in-hand. I started small: watching skate videos, placing my feet gently on my board, and visualizing a healed, perfect knee. I set an X-ray of a flawless knee as my phone background as a daily reminder of what I was working toward.
That period of recovery taught me the importance of listening—to my body, to the warnings around me, and also, to the subtle guidance of the Holy Spirit.
When I Broke my Face: Relearning the Basics
Not long after the Santa Monica incident, another harsh lesson came crashing down—literally. Just before my leg injury, I had a six-month stay in China. Upon my return, I finished my online holistic nutrition certification in Venice Beach, California. Craving the familiar rush of skateboarding, I headed to the local skate park. Despite feeling the Holy Spirit urging caution, I decided to extend my skate session, even after noticing a cracked bushing on my board.
That day, I was having too much fun on the "snake run". Hour after hour, I pushed my limits until, eventually, my overconfidence cost me dearly. I attempted a gnarly grind around the top of a deep end—a spot I normally considered too dangerous. Suddenly, the bushing exploded. In a flash, I found myself falling 12 feet to the cement below. I don't remember the final seconds before impact, but eyewitnesses described a surreal slow-motion descent: a 180-degree twist, hands tucked behind my back, and a face-first crash that left me unconscious in a pool of blood.
When I awoke, paramedics were surrounding me. I even managed a 🤙shaka sign and a lighthearted "party on, dudes!" as they loaded me into the ambulance. At USC Hospital, doctors warned that I might never regain full muscle function in the right side of my face—that I might have to blink on command instead of naturally. With four titanium plates fixing the triple fracture in my orbital structure and a rigorous regimen of therapy, I faced weeks of nerve damage, emotional distress, and an uphill battle to reclaim the basics of everyday life.
Every day was a struggle—waking up, showering, even blinking required determined effort. Emotionally, I felt shattered. I reached out to friends and family, and through countless sessions in an out-patient facility in Palm Springs, I learned to accept help from others and practice patience. I journaled extensively during that time, using writing as a tool to process my emotions and track my progress. You can check out my Rebel Journal for a deeper look into that journey.
Lessons Learned: Resilience, Faith, and the Art of Slowing Down
Both these experiences left me forever changed. They taught me that:
- Listening Matters: Listening to the Holy Spirit can be the difference between staying safe and facing hardship — one of the most critical lessons is knowing when to slow down.
- Every Fall is a Lesson: Every painful setback is a stepping stone to growth—both physically and emotionally.
- Resilience is Key: Even when doctors predicted the worst, I clung to my faith and my passion, determined not to let injuries define me.
- Grace in Recovery: The recovery process, though long and challenging, was a time of learning to accept help, practice humility, and rebuild my life step by step.
At the time of these falls, I wasn’t even a committed Christian, yet I could feel the presence of the Holy Spirit urging caution and care. Now, as a devoted follower of Christ, I can clearly see how God was aligning my life to fit His will and purpose — shaping me through these challenges to build Inspire Nation Skate Co., a Christ-centered community that helps teens overcome mental health barriers through the power of skateboarding and faith.
Conclusion: Keep Riding, Keep Believing
Skateboarding has taught me that falling is inevitable, but it’s not the fall that defines you—it’s how you rise. Every near-disaster, every bruise, and every setback has been a lesson in resilience and a call to trust in a higher plan. Today, I skate with a slower, more intentional style, honoring both the risks and the rewards of this journey.
No matter how hard you fall, remember: keep riding, keep believing, and never give up. Every challenge is just a setup for an even greater comeback.
What setbacks have you overcome, and how have they shaped you? Share your story in the comments—let’s inspire each other to keep pushing forward, one brave step at a time.