…and I had just finished a very long week of work. The mere thought of being productive scared me and I just wanted to sit back and do nothing.

So I drove down to Venice Beach and hung out around the skatepark.

As a former skateboarder in a previous lifetime (try 10 years ago), I’ve always had respect for the those who take part in the sport. And yes, it is a sport. If you beg to differ, then I challenge you to ride a four-wheeled sled standing up at high speeds while simultaneously jumping up and down over and over and let me know how if you feel like you’re getting a workout or not.

Not so confident now, are we?

That being said, skateboarders never cease to amaze me with the level of determination they show. Skaters will literally attempt the same trick hundreds of times before they land it once. ONCE. Imagine trying to drive down the street hundreds of times, failing every single time, until you finally get to the end of the road.

The sheer courage skateboarders show is unmatched in any other sport I’ve ever seen or participated in. And remember, I am a sports junkie.

For example, take this skaters big air olley attempt I caught on tape at Venice Skate Park.

I watched this guy take on that same jump at least two dozen times. Every time, he was met with the same result. How can any normal person continue to try the jump again?

The answer is simple: skateboarders aren’t normal people. They’re gods among men.

Examine their lifestyle: skaters really don’t answer to anyone. They skate when the want, where they want. Skaters wear tight jeans, baggy shirts and hair so long it would put rapunzel to shame.

Skaters create an aura that embodies this culture. It’s a swagger held by a collective group of individuals that have one thing in common. If you’re not with them, you’re against them. And that’s just the way skaters want it. Skateboarders aren’t looking to please anyone but themselves — a group of rebels who go against the grain and would have it no other way. Call it swagger. Call it pride. Call it obnoxious and over the top arrogance.

You can call it whatever you want, because I will always call them warriors.

Look how the have turned the mainstream culture sideways. Ryan Sheckler, at only TWELVE years old, turns pro and instantly has a stream of endorsement deals and sponsorship money rained down upon him. The multimillionaire Maloof brothers, owners of a Las Vegas casino and the Sacramento Kings, have shown interest with the Maloof Money Cup, a $100,000 first prize skate tournament that lures the best skaters in the world out of their favorite skate holes and into a competition that is televised on ESPN. And even Nike, with their Nike SB brand, has jumped into the action and made nearly $20 billion in revenue last year (2009).

Maybe they did not turn the mainstream sideways, but instead pushed it onto its ass and rushed past in a rush of wavy-long hair and ball bearings.

What brought these big names (Maloof’s, Nike) to skating? The passion that pure skaters have for their sport. That passion comes from hours upon hours of skating — trying to grind that rail outside the biology building or clear the gap in the back of your local grocery store’s loading dock. The mental strength to press on and land the sickest trick possible drives these individuals to continue pushing the limits of their sport.

Anytime I need to kick back and relax, I’ll always remember that a few miles down Venice Boulevard there is a group of passionate individuals determined never to let failure define them who are more than happy to show me what it’s like to be a warrior.