Like many, during the first year or so of the pandemic, I started rollerskating. I had never really been into rollerskating – I was a casual rollerblader as a kid, because that was way cooler in the early 2000s – but as someone easily influenced and a sucker for a good aesthetic, rollerskating seemed like something interesting to try in a time where I was mostly stuck inside the house.

I bought a pair of skates and, like any good hyperfixation, rollerskating became my life for the next 2-3 months. I learned how to care for my skates, swapped out my stock laces and wheels for a creepy-cute Beetlejuice vibe, I even recorded videos of myself skating in the garage when it was too cold and snowy to skate during the overlapping winter months.

But then, skating became routine and I went skating less and less. Eventually, I put my skates in the basement to “keep them out of the way” when I wasn’t using them, but I was definitely still going skate when I was in the mood and the weather was nice and I had time and all of these other parameters that needed to align to make it feel worth the time. Even just getting the skates out and putting them on became a chore, and eventually they got pushed into the bottom of a closet to not to be seen for months at a time.

You know that scene from Toy Story 2 with the Sarah McLachlan song? Pretty much the same thing, but with skates.

Every once in a while, usually during the first weeks of summer, I would pull my skates out and remember how fun it was to skate. And back into the closet they would go soon after.

As a part of my 29 -> 30 project, I have been pushing myself out of the house to try new things and explore my community around me. An idea I had since the start of this project was to clean up my dust-covered skates and to visit the local skating rink about a mile away. I had always want to take my skates over there, but I always had a reason not to go – I was too busy, I was too worried about COVID, I wasn’t in the mood.

In reality, I was too nervous to go.

I knew this would be something I would likely be doing by myself. As a fairly co-dependent and highly anxious person, this was a terrifying concept, but it was something easily dealt with: I just didn’t go.

But, this project gave me a reason to go out.

I had seen an Instagram post that on June 2nd, my local roller rink would be having a “Glow Night” filled with glow-in-the-dark bands and night skating. Whether for 2 minutes or 2 hours, I was going to go to this. The week before, I cleaned up my skates, making sure they were nice and tidy for their rink debut. The day of, I packed a skate bag, picked out a cute outfit, and had my partner hype me up.

And then, I sat in the driveway in my car. My fingers gripped the steering wheel as I flip-flopped back and forth about going. I had so many excuses already prepared – I’ve never been inside this place, what if I don’t feel comfortable? What if the parking lot is full? What if I break a bone from trying to recreate memories from my childhood? What if I somehow forget how to skate and everyone stares at me and laughs and then I’m banned forever for being the biggest goober the world has ever seen?

I turned on the engine of my car and pulled out of the driveway. I wasn’t going to talk myself out of something so ordinary – not anymore.

When I pulled up to the rink, the parking lot was actually pretty full, which gave me a sense of comfort surprisingly. I grabbed my skates and walked inside like I had been there countless times before. I walked up to the ticket counter, bought a ticket, and went into the rink like it was nothing. While I kept a straight face, I can’t even begin to describe how giddy I was for getting so far. This was not something I just did, let alone on my own!

Going into the rink area was like stepping back into the 90s and early 2000s. The smell of cheap pizza wafted through the air as kids skated around on a multi-patterned neon carpet on their summer break from school. The room lights were dimmed and bright colorful lights danced over skaters going round and around on the rink floor. There were small kids, there were teenagers, there were young adults, there was so much diversity in the people all coming together on a Friday night to skate. Random music blared from decades old speakers as teenage employees made the best of their summer job.

I slipped on my skates and went onto the skate rink floor. After only having skated on rough roads and sidewalks for the past few years, it was a huge change to be on a silky smooth floor and I found myself gliding with ease past children using chairs to stabilize themselves as well as adults that were trying the absolute best they could to not take a bite out of the rink floor. Circle after circle I went, losing myself in the rhythm of the music and the gentle vibration of my wheels rolling across the floor. I felt like I was flying.

I felt like I was a kid again.

I stayed for about an hour, and once I had my fill, I headed home. The length of time spent at the rink had never been the goal – getting out and trying something that I knew I would love was the win that mattered. And while I haven’t been back to the rink since, I’m eager to lace up again and get back to flying across the floor. Maybe you’ll see me at an adult night skate soon!