Midnight skating the university campus we cover miles in the desert summer air—roads, parking lots, pathways, circling the sports arena then hopping curbs, leaping stairs and riding concrete benches, flying off with the rehearsed grace of Olympians.
The How-To Issue
- How to not be obnoxious on social media
- How to open wine with everything but an opener
- How to style up a room for under $100
- How to book a touring band for your backyard
- How to make KoMex kimchi
- How to speak emoji
- How to karaoke if you're scared as hell
- How to re-gift without being a dirtbag
- How to take care of people
Rollerblades were an inevitable invention. Wheels on the feet. It couldn’t be simpler, a complete freedom that yields surprisingly exceptional posture and strength, promising you’ll bound flights of stairs with ease, prompted by hard glutes and solid hamstrings. The very basics of inline ensure it: Skater pushes off, extends leg back, pushes off with other leg, repeating thousands of rolling lunges in one evening. It’s why the racehorse-esque gluteal muscles of male figure skaters become armchair conversation. “Maybe I should take up ice skating,” someone finally says.
Wheels.