Crashing.

Crashing is a full-time job.  This is a quick 'crash-course' on being a cool human...  People often discuss the moment just before the pain sets-in, as a sort of disassociated bliss -- Wherefor we briefly believe that (perhaps) we may actually (luckily) come out of this event un-scathed.  Alas, then... that pink-white scrape oozes and we know immediately that recovery may take days or even weeks. 
Break out the peroxide little bunny because we have some brave work ahead.
Bunny-hopping a trash-can, jumping a home-made ramp over a few kids laying like logs below; Taking a sip from the bidon right before striking a pot-hole, or doing a no-hander over crooked pavement... this is that moment. Congratulations! Your commitment is real. You are a bad-ass.            And... Really what could go wrong?
What comes next is that "Out-Of-Body" reflection inward at one's whereabouts, taking  quick inventory  as to the direction of one's limbs, their placement & their attachment, or not.

Pain comes in many forms; The first being that wholly unmanageable style.

Kip and Napoleon Are Ruling The World Today And Every Day, Because They Do Dumb Shit.

Pain comes in many forms; The first being that wholly unmanageable style which cuts consciousness to black as veiled protection buffers us from trauma. The Next is a buzzing dimmer ramping up the brightness steadily  -- Normally, this is when we wish for a Do-Over, and discover the slow dread of not being quite right. 
The basic 'Skinned-Knee' or 'Ankle sprain', is a casual reminder to practice more; Whereas a deeper cut and inevitable "stitches" emphasize one's need for real improvement -- [Whispering to himself], "Just as soon as this one heals up, we golden ones will be back at it!" Because you may be a swiper, But you are also a fucking do'er -- The envy every fuck-tard.
Remember that Tattoos are for posers without the scars of a life well lived, and you are not 'that guy'..., are you?
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 Youth is full of spooky moments, but crashing is just barely below that knife's edge of a life well lived.

Falling from ones bike is merely self-coaching through a process as primal as any other scary mystery. Where we work though an unfamiliar haze.  Here we generally cannot recall the moment where it all went sideways.  Assuming the crash was the sovereign cause of only the person crashing -- then physical and mental improvement is imminent.  Glancing around for scape-goats is the devils hand, which most often guides a far darker path. This also delays recovery. Failing at any new mysterious thing is enough to discourage humans from even trying again.  Fumbling darkly with someone else's zipper for example is just as frightening for the un-initiated, but perhaps a bit less hazardous, than dropping into a Half-Pipe. Youth is full of spooky moments, but crashing is just barely below that knife's edge of a life well lived. Good stories almost never blossom from a puritanical path. Whereas bad outcomes strike everyone regularly our risk is actually The Thing.  Fear of failure for any Skater, BMX'er, Cyclist, or Parcourse is one thing, but fear of injury is what keeps other amateurs safely sidelined spectating.  This goes a long way to explaining that safe-space called golf. Even for someone who is totally into that game, a fucking great story in a golf cart will only happen where a gator was involved. So it goes that pulling off a back-side-ollie-rail-slide is NOT for side-lined pussy's. Resolve is one's desire to prove only to one-self that one is capable.  And of course it's OK to give-up, give-in, cave, flame-out, and fail... But only you, can grant that permission. If, However you give up without a re-try, then you have blown it twice.

Yours Fucking Truly Before the Jump.

Golf is bowling for wealthy strokes & environmental saboteurs.

By the time a person hits Twenty-five, they should already know that either:
[A] Their limits, (or)
[B] To concede they are a pussy. 

In Bowling as in Golf (which is simply bowling for wealthy strokes & environmental saboteurs) The release of the ball is the last moment where one can effectively control or correct it's behavior... Yet one tends to lean, and contort their body to correct for angle, yaw, and trajectory, (which we all  know is foolish). This squirmy feeling is remarkable, but seldom if ever has a treacherous side-effect.  (except as distraction for scoring).  The squirm only works on a skateboard (anyway).

​I remember trying to hit a sweet jump at age 11 with far too much speed and too little confidence, and then launching ahead of my own landing gear, to crash epically upon warm alley pavement.  I recall the smell of the trash-cans, and the taste of iron, and blood, and gravel.  So it goes that after hopeful recovery, a kid needs to get the fuck back to work -- Get back to the business of sticking that landing. [If the Bike still works; My fork broke below the bottom headset race].
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But you could say that commitment is the moment just before you either pull it off, or the pain sets in.

Well before there were deep pits filled with foam balls, doubled-up mattresses, or even trampolines -- The reward system, was a bit jacked, because on the other side of some quantum partition lay a negative operant where strong  gravity and crash-landings, betray success. Finesse is the con-job in that film-noir called the Character-Builder. They say "Commit"! -- And commitment means different things to different kids. But you could say that commitment is the moment just before you either pull it off, or the pain sets in.

Bikes are basically pretty reliable in as much as, at velocity one can stay upright over some rather gnarly shit, just so long as a kid doesn't fucking panic.  Panic literally always leads to bad outcomes.  So what about Luck?

Symphorophiliac? Maybe, Skater?... NO!... OF COURSE NOT -- That Dweeb Golfs.

Luck is actually the amalgam of emotional precedent which can (like a force-field) counter the forces of both gravity, and of doubt. 

This works because, on the other side of the equation are sheep and failure; And failing is bogus -- Not to mention super-duper un-sexy.

Luck (while certainly not a sound strategy), is a force which predetermines predictably positive outcomes because it carries a frequency which squelches out nagging doubt, or reluctant reticence, and nay-sayers.  That Jagoff Elon Musk, Steve Jobs, and certainly Shawn White, wield luck as a force. They are NOT (necessarily) better at anything at all, but for convincing. They have convinced both themselves and others that they are expert at everything, which let's face it -- that shit works. Mostly, This works because, on the other side of the equation are sheep, and  failure, and failing is bogus -- Not to mention super-duper un-sexy. Protecting against wholly inadequate doubtfulness is Luck pulling you up from the pavement to try again.  Doubt and Luck are not opposites, but Doubt nearly never manifests in the soul of the lucky creatures. I once pulled a hand-stand at speed down the beach hill on my free-style deck, and inadvertently dragged a knuckle which acted like a roller-skate stopper removing some part of my nail, and finger, before I toppled to gouge my hip down the hill for a spell. There was that white removal of summer bronze, just before the trickle of warm red.  The Crash taught me literally nothing, except that a Skate-board was intended to be operated with feet, safely inside shitty converse all-stars, and NOT with hands. 

So in effect their LUCK is a bit of a "Con-Job"... After which point the money is ponied-up by onlookers.

Watching a squirl jump a 15 foot gap of trees over a highway, should prove the rule. But even that lucky fucker, and their unlucky friend flattened below, know the wisdom of taking baby steps before the big leap -- And or luck.  The modern industrialist merely needs to convince onlookers, that they are quite lucky, and if nothing else confident.  So in effect their LUCK is a bit of a "Con-Job". After that point the money is ponied-up by onlookers, so they have no tangible down-sides. What's important about sticking the landing, and of crashing (as proven by Thrasher Magazine), and any ass-wipe on the web,  is that you only have to nail it a few more times than you crash to be venerated. Staying in the black column is: 50% Luck, 50% Confidence, and 50% Magic.  Bad decisions sprinkled with luck, make for the best stories, and crashing is part of that education. 
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​Crash with confidence, but try something new today.  Here... Let me help you.