ROCK AND ROLLERBLADE
As I skimmed through Yahoo News searching for something less appalling than the London bombings to write about, I found a story about the Rollerblade company. It seems they’re now focusing a large part of their marketing efforts on the 40-50 year old crowd.
Flashback: A couple of years ago, Technogeek went on a skating binge. He worked near a popular skating path at the time, and spent his lunch hours zooming around Greenlake on inline wheels. Eventually, he convinced me to take up the sport.
With brand new skates in hand, he led me to the cul-de-sac outside our house to try them out. Sitting on the curb, I strapped them securely on my feet and stood up.
Then I fell down.
“Oh,” Technogeek said, “you have to lean forward a little.”
With much effort and somewhat embarrassing bodily contortions, I stood up again.
And fell down again.
“Everybody falls down a lot at first,” he said helpfully. “Just do it like this,” as he skated circles around me.
Let me tell you, that asphalt looks quite smooth and level from the safety of my kitchen window, but up close, it is quite rough, sloped, and very, very hard.
It went on like that for awhile until I regained my senses, sat down on the curb, and removed the death vehicles from my feet. It took a whole box of Blues Clues bandaids to cover my abrasions.
So you can imagine my reaction when I read today that Rollerblade tells its potential middle-aged customers that inline skating burns as many calories as running or cycling, BUT WITH LESS IMPACT AND SHOCK TO THE JOINTS.
Well anyway, I didn’t give up. But I did remember the vows I took on my wedding day, especially this one:
I vow to never, ever allow my lunatic of a husband to attempt to teach me anything.
So I went to a skating school. At a rink. With a lovely, smooth, flat floor. A kind and patient teacher taught me how to stand up with wheels on my feet. And how to move forward without moving downward.
Since then I have even skated in the cul-de-sac a little. But I don’t stop very well. This is how I stop in the cul-de-sac: find a good section of the curb to crash into so that I fall onto a large patch of grass.
Well hell, I’m only 39. Too young for inline skating.