“Come on, Jon! Just commit!”

I was 15, dithering at the top of a mini ramp as my friends egged me on. I leaned forward hesitantly and dropped in.

Wham. The board shot out from under me, and I slammed backwards into the ramp.

That was pretty much the extent of my skateboarding experience. Since then I’ve mostly stuck to the slow, steady pace of endurance sports like running and nordic skiing. But after spending most of a weekend playing the reboot of Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 1+2 last year, I felt the urge to go outside and do the real thing. I was reminded of the skating culture I never engaged with and inspired by —or rediscovering—the sport during lockdown.

In the spirit of the I diligently followed in years past, I looked for a routine that would be suitable for an injury-averse adult and would help me learn to pop an ollie (see sidebar)—the foundational trick of street skating. No dice. Skateboarding, it turns out, doesn’t attract a lot of fitness obsessives looking to routinize the learning process. So I devised my own, based on advice from professional skater and fellow Minnesotan .

Torgerson told me to watch skateboarding videos—not just , but also —to understand the flow of skating. Stretching also helps in avoiding injury. But mostly he stressed spending a lot of time on the board and staying patient. “Learning to skate is about having a complete feel for the board underneath you,” he said. “Trust me, it’s hard to learn. I’ve been doing it for nearly 20 years and I slam every time I go skate.”

The training routine I settled on (see “My One-Month Ollie Plan,” below) was slow going at first. Just pushing myself around proved to be plenty of work, and I was doubtful I’d get airborne in only a month. But a couple weeks and countless stumbles later, I got comfortable. Yoga helped my sore muscles recover, and watching skate videos kept me inspired. More often than not, I went out again after logging my daily practice hour because I’d had some epiphany I wanted to explore.

Three weeks in, I was confident enough to attempt an ollie. After a few days, I figured out the sequence of motions while holding onto a fence. Then I cut myself loose. Later that day, I crouched down, popped upward, felt the board rise to my feet, and landed on all four wheels with a satisfying clack.

By the end of week four, I was able to get the board a few inches off the ground. That’s not a lot, but it was an ollie—my ollie—and it felt pretty fucking cool. I knew I couldn’t stop there. Considering which trick to conquer next, I took to heart another suggestion from Torgerson.

“The only advice I have in terms of tricks is to get addicted,” he said. “You ­almost have to lie in bed at night pondering what you’re going to try, how much harder you’re going to commit.”

Though, as of this writing, I’m only a month in and my ollies barely clear a crack in the pavement, I can say that I’m addicted: going to the park every day, figuring out tricks, seeing the built landscape in a new way. I probably won’t ever hit a like Torgerson, but maybe I’ll finally drop into a mini ramp.

My One-Month Ollie Plan

There are two things you need to succeed at skateboarding: patience and a lot of practice. Here was my two-hour daily routine.

1. One hour on the board. Thirty minutes warming up and practicing what I’d learned so far, and 30 minutes working on a new trick or skill.

2. Thirty minutes of yoga, with an emphasis on stretching, stability, and balance. During the pandemic, I started following the YouTube channel . (There’s even a .)

3. Thirty minutes watching skate videos. Some favor­ites include , ’ Trilogy,Ěý˛ą˛Ô»ĺ in it.

To guide my progress, I focused on the following skills:

Week 1: Pushing, turning, moving starts.

Week 2: Kickturns, manuals, getting on and off the board in various ways.

Week 3: Riding diverse terrain, visiting a skate park, starting to ollie.

Week 4: Ollie, ollie, ollie.

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