Walking around after midnight in a bored fugue, I found myself at the local skatepark. It was dark, empty, and utterly quiet.
During the day, the skatepark is where the cool kids hang, and sometimes they achieve incredible things. It is a place purpose-made for honing your skill on wheels, and that's reflected in the pragmatic grey of the smooth concrete which stretches out in all directions.
By coincidence, it's also a visually fascinating architectural project. The skatepark balances smooth curvilinear forms and sharp boxy angles in a strange geometric composition. These public spaces, usually funded by local taxpayer dollars, are apparently not only for physical recreation. The skaters in the park play with movement and flow on wheels, but at the same time the architecture of the park plays with pure forms of concrete in space, inviting curiosity and reflection.
As my eyes adjusted to the night, sitting in the middle of the empty park, it became an abstract and alien landscape.
With dark stillness lingering around me, I lowered myself down into the big bowl. During the day, this intimidating bowl is one that I've seen only a few people actually use - unlike the other few shallower bowls, which are highly trafficked. I had dropped into a situation that I wasn't entirely sure I could easily get out of.
I suppose at the time, this seemed like an interesting opportunity to try my hand as an escape artist. Or maybe I was just drawn in by the shapes.
Regardless, I was now standing in a concrete jail at least 20 feet deep, and I had trapped myself. Looking up at the sloped walls, I could see the only way out was with technique and momentum.
If you're doing regular old endurance running on a flat surface or even on a mild hill, its most efficient to stay upright. Even jogging up a decent slant, you'll want to lean forward to stay parallel with gravity, or backwards conversely when running downhill. But when you're trying to generate the momentum needed to escape a steeply sloped prison, what I learned is that you need to instead stay more perpendicular to the ground as you go. If you don't lean back some as you run up the curve, you'll run into the wall rather than up it. I learned that lesson quickly enough, and after a little practice, I was soon buzzing around the side of the bowl in tight circles.
When I had enough of that, I charged with full power up the slope to try get high enough up the side to grab the ledge. But I missed. My fingers scraped against the cement.
I knew it wasn't the time to quit though. I flipped around at the top and started running back down into the pit. This time, pitching forward to create a new rush of momentum, which zoomed me up the opposite slope. I was getting again to the critical point where I knew I was just about in reach. With a final surge, I jerked forward, this time snatching the ledge successfully by the tips of a few fingers.
Escaping a prison is uniquely satisfying. It feels a little like you've overcome the impossible... Even if you put yourself in there and it's not remotely like a real prison.
Still, it's surprising what we're capable of when it seems like no options are available, in the bottom of a deep pit after midnight. Learning isn't comfortable. In order to grow sometimes you have to put yourself in situations that you're not 100% sure how you're going to get yourself out of, trusting in your ability to make it happen.
If you're ever bored at night and looking for an enriching experience, consider journeying to your local alien world of grey forms, and getting stuck in the bottom of a pit.
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