Why Do We Fall?

Me, a few years ago

I love Batman. I’ve always loved Batman. I grew up with the Batman of the campy TV show filmed in the 60’s, on which he and his sidekick Robin pranced and danced, creating terrifyingly bad puns, and fighting with super-villains in scenes that resemble choreographed ice-dancing routines… With maybe less ice… And more flamboyant costumes. Everyone loves Batman, right?

Batman has evolved through the years, through many comic series and a bunch of movies, and I’m sure today’s Batman could not sit through an episode of the old TV show without breaking something or punching someone. Today’s Batman is darker and more intense, reflecting a time far removed from the groovy, swinging decade in which he first enjoyed mass commercial popularity.

Batman Begins, the fantastic film reboot of the hero’s story, stars Christian Bale and was released 10 years ago. In it we see young Bruce Wayne (Batman’s alter ego) and the events that shaped him as a child, and drove him to create this persona that would clean up the streets of Gotham. In one scene, he falls down an old, overgrown well on his family’s estate, breaking his arm. As his father, Dr. Thomas Wayne comforts him after this experience, he asks his young son, “Bruce, why do we fall?” He then answers his own question, “So we can learn to pick ourselves up.”

Remember these guys?

It’s a great line and great story, and is certainly one of the lessons that shaped Bruce and helped him to push through the challenges that life brought him, driving the creation of a hero who brought about a lot of good. It’s one of the many reasons I love the story and character of Batman, who overcame adversity, willed himself to learn and grow, and always fought for justice, using his talents and conditioning to physically reshape a dark, crime-filled world around him that seemed utterly impossible to change.

I suppose I could end there: Batman is awesome… The end. However, I want to talk a little bit about what causes me to fall. And to figure that out, I need to dig into what is going on when I fall. So now you know I love Batman, and if you have read any other entries in my blog you know I love music. However, I don’t know that I have talked about my other big obsession as a kid, and even for a lot of the time I’ve been an adult… skateboarding.

The first big skate boom

When I was six years old I got a yellow fiberglass Makaha board with red urethane wheels. It was so cool! This would have been 1976, and I rode that thing all the time when we lived in Fresno, California. We lived just around the corner from Slater Elementary, which I attended. (An internet search shows that there is a big skatepark on that block now! Too bad we moved.) I remember riding to the school and cruising all over the playground, which had a big, sloped bank at one end. In those days, that’s what you did on a skateboard; you cruised around, up and down hills, and occasionally rode up and down any banks or slopes you could find, seeing how high you could get, or on how steep a bank you had the guts to ride.

I was unaware, or just too young to notice anyone riding any pools or doing any crazy tricks—that stuff was happening in little pockets around the country at that time, but was not on my radar at all. I was just having a blast riding around, pretending I was surfing… A great way to get some wind in your hair on those hot, muggy Fresno summer days. Somewhere there is a photo of me rolling down the driveway on that yellow board, with bright red corduroy pants and an equally bright t-shirt, with my hair bleached almost white from the sun. I wish I could find it! If nothing else to give proof to my kids, who do not believe I was cool enough to be riding a skateboard in Cali in 1976.

Anyway, at some point that board rusted to a state that made it unusable, or maybe I just got more infatuated with riding my bike on the dirt trails that were all over our neighborhood after we moved to the San Francisco Bay Area. For whatever reason, I got away from skating, and its growth dropped off across the entire country. Skateboarding was dead, and I didn’t give it much thought again until I was 13 years old.

Found this pic online. My exact board from the 70's!

In the early 80’s, skateboarding was making a comeback, and I got ‘on board’ again. (See what I did there?) This time, I bought an old Santa Cruz board that had been spray-painted blue, had Bowl Rider trucks, and big blue urethane wheels, I think with a generic name like ‘city streets.’ It was really a piece of junk, super heavy because of the old trucks and giant wheels. I bought it for $30 from my buddy Craig Phillips, who was upgrading to a new board.

That cheap old board became my new best friend! Craig showed me a couple tricks, and before long everyone in my circle was skating. I used paper route money to step up to a new board, a Zorlac Double Cut. I built little jump ramps, then bigger sloped ramps, then quarter pipes and several half pipes in the back yard, eventually culminating in a half pipe twelve feet wide, 9 feet high and almost thirty feet long. Looking back, it is a wonder no one died on that structure, built largely with old wood we had reused several times, by teenagers with no experience or know-how at all. We learned by trial and error, and whatever tips we could get from skateboard magazines, or advice from friends-of-friends.

As much fun as riding the ramps was, I really enjoyed street-skating more than anything… Riding fast in whatever environment you were in—suburban neighborhood, hospital parking lot, city streets and sidewalks—seeing ‘lines’ over, around, through and across all the obstacles you saw. It was like poetry, or maybe more like painting—taking some stretch of road that was a blank canvas or sheet of paper and doing something with it that no one had ever done, or even intended to do. It has been probably five years or so since I skated for more than a couple minutes, but I still to this day see lines all over the place—a ledge to drop off, a curb to grind, a rail to slide down, with smooth, wavy routes connecting them all.

Like any real skater, I had a couple injuries, but only one that I went to the hospital for. (I should

have been treated for a handful of other ones, but I was stubborn, or maybe stupid. Probably both). When I was maybe 15 I messed up my knee pretty badly, at the end of a long session on my backyard halfpipe. I had been trying to nail this one trick, a handplant where your body inverts as you put a hand on the ramp, and then you swing around and ride down the wall of the ramp.

I had really been beating up my body trying to learn this trick, and was pretty fatigued. I had to work that night and was running late, and I decided to take one more hurried attempt. As I rode up the wall of the ramp I grabbed the coping and straightened my arm, my body inverted. As my body swung around, my front foot slipped off the board, and I rode down the steep wall with just my right foot on the board, and that knee totally bent. My left leg was sticking out straight ahead in the direction I was heading. As I approached that second wall, my left leg jammed into the ramp, with the force of my body weight and momentum all driven into that awkwardly straightened leg, really tweaking my knee.

Big hair and short shorts

It was days before I could bend it properly, and weeks before I could skate again and walk without a limp. I don’t know what I did, and have never had my knees x-rayed, but they sure took a lot of abuse, and still give me some issues from time to time. But hey, it’s nothing I can’t power through, Batman-style! It’s worth noting this happened when my mind was distracted, when I wasn’t really fully engaged, and when I was pretty fatigued. I shouldn’t have been trying the hardest trick I had ever attempted in that mental or physical state!

Another time, I was skating Craig’s halfpipe, riding in his back yard with him and a couple friends. Craig had to go somewhere with his family, and they were cool with us skating for a while after they left. Again, it had been a long session, after a day of high school, and things were kind of winding down. It was just me and another kid, and we were just lazily taking turns on the ramp, not doing anything too taxing, or paying too much attention to what we were doing. As I attempted a trick I had done thousands—literally thousands—of times before, a simple frontside grind, I lost focus and my board hung up, and I fell down to the flat.

I had also fallen literally thousands of times before, which was no big deal, you just slide down on your knee pads. This time however, not being as engaged as I should have been, I tried to block my fall with my wrist, of course hurting it in the process. The real bummer—I had to skate home. Correction, I had to carefully walk home, gingerly carrying my board. This was before cell phones, and I was in a neighborhood where I knew no one else, and I didn’t want to just knock on a stranger’s door. So I made my way home, my parents took me to the emergency room, and I ended up learning I had fractured it. Again, a fall when I was not really fully engaged in what I was doing.

I skated until I was eighteen or so, then hung it up until I started again with my own kids when they were little—Liam and Ethan in particular really took to it, and it was a blast riding with them at the parks around Utah and Idaho. Ethan has had his own list of injuries, more serious than mine, because today skateboarding is just way faster and more intense than it was back in the 70’s and 80’s. But it was fun to explore new parks with him and Liam, and to watch each other progress.   

Thinking of those trips to the skateparks reminds me of the last time I really seriously skated with the boys. In 2010, at age 40, I went with Ethan and Liam to the park in Orem, Utah, just a short drive from our home. We liked to go pretty early in the day, because this park in particular draws a huge crowd, and in the afternoon and evening, in addition to a bunch of skaters there are little kids and scooters and bikes everywhere—it just gets chaotic. That morning, we pretty much had the park to ourselves.

Backyard fun, maybe 1984?

As we rode around, warming up, getting the flow going, I was lazily riding up and down in one of the half pipe sections. We were really just getting going, getting the blood pumping, limbering up a bit. As I rode backwards (“fakie”) down one wall of the big concrete ramp, I was more watching Ethan and Liam than paying attention to what I was doing. And of course, I hit a rock I had not seen before, right as I descended the wall. On the fast concrete, right at the base of the wall where my momentum was just building, my board came to an abrupt halt as the rock stopped the wheel. And of course, as Newton would have predicted, I kept on going, right into the ground.

Picture it, a 40 year old man coming down a concrete ramp backward (envision the side of a pool), and slamming to the ground. I instinctively pulled my arm in to my side so I could just kind of roll through it. However, there was to be no rolling… My body slapped against the ground, and the impact drove that left arm into the bottom of my ribcage. I heard a crack and felt all the air rush out of my lungs; it felt like my chest was being crushed. I promise you, I would have wailed like a baby if I could speak. Heck, I couldn’t even breathe, for what felt like five minutes. I just laid there writhing in pain, trying to make myself breathe.

Finally able to get some air in my lungs, I got up and staggered to a bench on the side of the park. It was painful to walk, breathe, sit, stand, or think—my chest ached no matter what I was doing. I sat there trying not to do anything, taking shallow breaths so my ribs wouldn’t hurt. The kids checked on me, and kept skating, as I was in no hurry to get in the car to drive anywhere. Internet searches told me the ‘crack’ I heard was likely a rib or two, and a friend who was a nurse and in college for some other ‘ology’ degree confirmed it, and let me know the doctor could prescribe painkillers but that was all you could do.

Gotta love the 80's. Me in the backyard.

I spent the next month or so painfully improving, little by little, until I felt up to taking the boys to another park in Utah. I had been feeling better, and thought I’d try to ride again. When I took a little routine spill, rolling to my back, I again had the wind completely knocked out of me, my chest on fire once more, my old injury newly aggravated. That was the last time I skated at a park—mostly because I worried I’d have a really serious injury that might affect my ability to take care of my family.

As I think of all these spills on the skateboard, and more importantly, the other falls I have taken in life, I see some consistent themes. Whether it is in my career, family, or personal life, or my relationship with God, there is a pattern…

I fall when I am too tired or worn down, attempting something I either have not prepared for properly, or when I am just not in the right state (whether physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual).

I fall when I let my guard down, and am not paying attention. Little things that normally are not a problem for me sneak up and bite me.

I fall when I am lax in my engagement, coasting, running on autopilot in an area of life because I think it’s not too critical that I pay much attention.

In short, I fall when I am not engaged, living in the moment, and seeing things clearly.

So what is the antidote? What tools for fall-prevention should we pull out of our collective Batcaves, dust off and incorporate? The answers are simple, but not always easy: Be engaged, live in the moment, and see things clearly. Here are a few things I do to get on track.

Be engaged. Do something you love. Revisit an old hobby, or take up a new one. Set a specific goal. Is there something coming up you can plan for, train for, or look ahead to? A concert, a bike ride, a charity walk, a marathon? A class you could take, a meetup, a service organization you can join? A big sporting event you can buy a ticket for now, that might be months away? A plane or train ticket for a fun trip in a month, or even a year? I find that having something to look forward to, or to plan or save up for, keeps me focused and excited, and that focus spills into other areas of my life.

Live in the moment. Volumes have been written about this one, by people way more qualified than me. However, here’s something that paradoxically helps me live in the moment… Planning those moments. More specifically, planning out my days and weeks ahead of time. How does this help me live in the moment? Connecting with what is most important to me, what responsibilities I have, and what tasks must be accomplished ensures my time is productive, and I get the stuff done that I absolutely need to. This planning mindset is equally helpful in planning my “me” time, and I do things that help me recharge and promote fulfillment. I spend time doing things mindfully, as opposed to doing mindless things to help me ‘escape.’

Check out Stephen Covey’s 7 Habits and First Things First, or even simply search the internet for Franklin Covey time management tips. Check out Alan Lakein’s rules of time management—he wrote about these ideas long before it was a trend. One of his rules is asking the question, “What is the best use of my time right now?” As a young manager, I always carried around an index card with 10 of his rules on it. Being able to leave work at work, because you are effective and productive, is an unequaled blessing that leaves you with plenty of energy to live in the moment outside of work—in the moments that really count!

See things clearly. I have a few things that help me see the world clearly, and even help me see myself more objectively; both types of enhanced vision keep me from falling. The first is daily prayer. Expressing gratitude for what I do have, and acknowledging areas where I need to grow are key for setting my day up right. This helps me work out my opportunities—and their solutions—in a mindful, inspired manner. Taking these topics to the Lord, and seeking His confirmation enhances my faith in Him and in myself. Even if you don’t believe in God, take some time to meditate and ponder and get ‘clear’ each morning. I promise you will see the world with greater clarity.

A second thing that helps me see things clearly is to study the scriptures, for at least 10 or 15 minutes each morning. Similar to praying, this sets my day up right, or more importantly it sets me up right. If you are not a Christian, study your spiritual text of choice, or even crack open the Old Testament to Proverbs, or thumb through the New Testament. You’ll find pearls of wisdom, or at the very least some things to ponder and engage your mind. If religious reading is just not for you, look to some of that stuff they made you read in high school—Homer, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Dickens, or poetry by Frost, Thoreau or Whitman.

Finally, I try to listen to a podcast or read something contemporary (preferably non-fiction) for at least a half hour per day. (You’ll find if you make this a habit, you’ll soon have no trouble finding a little time to read, and you’ll be able to squeeze in an hour or more easily). Just a little daily reading, studying and thinking gives me added perspective and energy as I tackle the problems of the day. It helps me avoid temptation and distraction. Also, literally every day, I find I have something fun, interesting, or thought provoking to talk about with others as a result of the clearer, broader perspective brought on by doing these little things.

I’m guessing I’ve told you nothing you didn’t already know—these are not ancient, guarded secrets. They are also not hard things to do either, but distractions come our way and get us off track, don’t they? But every little activity strengthens us, and keeps us more firmly grounded. And the more engaged we are, living in the moment and seeing things clearly, the more prepared we are to keep on our feet, ready for the next challenge life throws at us. We’ll see them coming, and they won’t trip us up as much, or pin us down as long. We’ll be real-life superheroes!

Batman’s got nothing on us.