🛼 Rolling Through Fear 🛼

October 2024. Mexico City. Parque Alameda Central. The first time I laced up inline skates, I almost immediately hit the concrete hard. Standing up on eight wheels felt like trying to walk on ice. Intimidating doesn't even begin to do the feeling justice. But something kept me coming back to those first skating classes, and it wasn't my natural grace (there wasn't any 😆). It was the incredible community I discovered in Unicorniex (@unicornixs.rollers on Instagram), a group of gorgeous, lively souls who made falling down feel less like failure and more like initiation.

Little did I know that those wheels would become my greatest teacher about fear, momentum, and the exhilarating rush that lives on the other side of terror.

The Downhill That Changed Everything

February 2025. Mexico City. Chapultepec Park. A few months into my skating journey, Moises from our group staff talked me into something that should have terrified me into retirement: the legendary downhill in Chapultepec Park, (Sección II). This wasn't just any hill. It's one of the longest, windiest downhills in Mexico City, complete with obstacles to jump over, speed bumps to navigate, and loose blocks that seem designed to ruin even experienced skaters joy ride.

"Whatever you do, don't try to brake," Moises told me as we stood at the top, late one night when the park was perfectly empty. "If you try to slow down, you're going to fall and partir madre" – roughly translated as "completely mess yourself up." "Just get in the defensive position and go. Don't try to stop."

I couldn't brake well anyway. But as I looked down that seemingly endless slope, my body started doing that thing fear does to you. The tingling began, spreading through my limbs like electricity. My eyes went wide, taking in every potential disaster scenario. I started sweating, and I could feel my circulation doing weird things, my hands were slowly forgetting they were supposed to have blood in them.

But here's the thing about fear: it doesn't just paralyze you. If you lean into it, it also makes you incredibly and addictively ALIVE. Standing at the top of that hill, trembling with terror, I was simultaneously more alive than I'd felt in years.

"Stay in the defensive position," Moises called out as he skated behind me. "Don't brake. And keep breathing". I didn't know whether to appreciate his guidance or hate him for talking me into this.

So I breathed. I bent my knees. And I let gravity take me down the longest, scariest, most exhilarating minutes of my skating life.

When Fear Lives in Your Body

Research shows that the physiological response to fear and excitement are very similar, with racing heart, heightened awareness, and that electric feeling coursing through your veins. The only difference is how we interpret these sensations. Are we about to die, or are we about to truly live?

That night at Chapultepec, flying down the hill at speeds that should have terrified me into quitting forever, something clicked. Fear wasn't my enemy. It was my compass, pointing me toward exactly the experiences I needed most.

Beyond the Pavement

This lesson didn't stay confined to eight wheels and asphalt. Recently, I found myself facing a different kind of downhill: my youngest brother's wedding. As a queer person in a family that grew up very religious, family gatherings can feel like navigating obstacles more treacherous than any pothole. Recent conversations had been difficult, filled with misunderstandings and hurt that expressed itself through explosive group chats and harmful comments.

Standing outside the wedding venue, I felt that familiar tingling sensation. The wide-eyed nervousness. The trembling that comes when you're about to do something that scares you but matters deeply. This time, the fear wasn't about physical injury. It was about invalidation, about my existence being seen as somehow inappropriate.

But I thought about Moises's advice: don't brake. Sometimes in life, trying to slow down or stop ourselves only makes us fall harder. Sometimes we have to embrace the rush and muscle our way through. And when we do, we're not just conquering our own fears. We're blazing a trail for ourselves and everyone watching us, showing them that the thing they're afraid of isn't actually impossible. Every time we roll through our terror, we're giving permission to someone else to try their own scary downhill.

So I walked in as myself and for my brother. And just like that terrifying descent at Chapultepec, it went so well. No crashes, no disasters. Just the profound relief and joy of surviving what scared me most, and the deeper realization that I can exist in any space. I can simply show up as I am and let my presence speak for itself. Sometimes the thing we think will destroy us actually just reminds everyone, that we belong.

Interestingly, right after the wedding, I completely lost my voice. My body's way of processing the stress of being among people who struggle to see the human through their beliefs about eternal damnation. My voice has always been the thing that's stood up for me, that's insisted on my value even when others questioned it. That night, it totally collapsed after being on highest alert.

The Gift of Not Braking

Here's what skating taught me about fear: it's almost always the only thing standing between us and something we desperately need to experience. Studies on resilience building through physical challenges confirm that confronting our fears in one area strengthens our ability to face them everywhere.

Whether it's a terrifying downhill or a difficult conversation, whether it's trying something new or showing up authentically in spaces that don't feel safe, the principle remains the same. Don't brake. Stay in the defensive position. Keep breathing. Trust that momentum will carry you through what feels impossible when you're standing still.

That tingling sensation, the wide-eyed terror, the way your circulation does weird things? That's not your body warning you to stop. That's your body getting ready to roll.

Your Downhill Awaits

What downhills are you avoiding in your life? What fears are keeping you at the top of the slope, missing out on the exhilarating rush that waits on the other side? Maybe it's not skating. Maybe it's a creative project, a difficult conversation, a career change, or simply showing up as your authentic self.

I'm here to tell you what Moises told me: don't brake. The defensive position exists not to avoid the ride, but to help you navigate it safely. Building supportive community makes all the difference. Find your Unicorniex, the people who recognize your value and create safe space where you can fall, who will pick you up, dust you off, and lovingly challenge you to face the next big scary downhill.

Because here's the truth I've learned on eight wheels and beyond: in most cases, when you muscle your way through the fear and embrace the downhill rush, you come alive in ways you never imagined. Your fears aren't as valid as they seem. The thing you're most afraid of doing might just be the thing that takes you to the next level.

So take a deep breath, get ready for the imperfections on the path, and let gravity do its work. The experience reaching the bottom of the hill is worth the terrifying ride down.

What's your scariest downhill? I'd love to hear about the fears you're rolling through and the victories waiting on the other side. Share your story in the comments below.

References:

Conversation, A. J. a. L. S. (2023, August 30). What happens in the brain when we feel fear. Smithsonian Magazine. https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/what-happens-brain-feel-fear-180966992/

Qiu, W., Huang, C., Xiao, H., Nie, Y., Ma, W., Zhou, F., & Liu, C. (2025). The Correlation between Physical activity and Psychological resilience in young Students: a systematic review and meta-analysis. Frontiers in Psychology, 16. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2025.1557347

Schäfer, S. K., Supke, M., Kausmann, C., Schaubruch, L. M., Lieb, K., & Cohrdes, C. (2024). A systematic review of individual, social, and societal resilience factors in response to societal challenges and crises. Communications Psychology, 2(1). https://doi.org/10.1038/s44271-024-00138-w