Land Paddling: Great Exercise or a Danger to the Elderly? (FYI it's both)

My  latest gift to myself in a long line of ridiculous exercise/hobby-related paraphinalia is (and I'm not even kidding about this) a longboard skateboard and a land paddle. The  premise is that you stand on a longboard and propel yourself forward with a stick with a rubber stopper on the end, so you are mimicking stand-up paddleboarding on concrete, which is basically paddleboarding for witches (and the hydrophobic).

I discovered this quasi-idiotic form of exercise when I was living in Florida, but was too concerned with what other people would think about a wackjob paddling a skateboard. Thankfully that is all behind me and I now gleefully paddle along a paved walking/running/biking path liked some sort of imbalanced jackal kackling wildly and desperately trying not to eat cement or run over some nice lady's bichon frisé. 

I have also more or less mastered the fine art of not eating shit in front of elderly Chinese couples, who are holding hands and (I can only assume) fearing for their lives, while simultaneously confirming their suspicions about young people. I'm quite proud of this; it has taken some time for me to stop instilling fear in the elderly.

I have discovered that speed is both what saves me from eating shit and what ultimately causes it. There is a fine line between "rocketing" down the trail at 4mph and handling all the tiny debris on the path deftly and then "preparing for liftoff" at 6mph and cartwheeling into the drainage canal. 

As I get more confidence on the board and stamina with the paddle (because it's fucking hard to paddle yourself up a slight incline while avoiding toy poodles) I find I can go a little faster. As I mentioned the trail is covered in debris of the tiniest kind (leaves, twigs, and a minefield of fallen acorns) and if you aren't carrying enough speed into said obstacle your wheels will lock up and launch unceremoniously hopping and spinning forward. 

This action becomes even more hazardous for bystanders because, lest you have forgotten, you are weilding a six-foot pole and potentially clubbing old folks and dog walkers as you try and recover from your encounter with that one acorn that was clearly out for blood.

The other side of the speed coin occurs for me when I'm perched atop a massive drop (read slight elevation) and am ready to zip down, which is a welcome respite from all the fucking paddling. The problem is that I have yet to figure out how to stop. At four mph stopping involves gently placing my left foot on the ground and reducing speed. At six mph I look like an elephant trying to stamp out a raging forest fire, which does little to actually reduce my speed (but I suspect is wildly entertaining for everyone else). This scenario typcially ends with me flailing about, stomping on the ground and ultimately doing a form of sprint-hopscotch while flinging a metal pole before receiving the gentle embrace of a drainage ditch. 

So that pretty much sums up what land paddling is like for me. Despite my constant flailing, I am slowly getting better at it...which is good news for the elderly.