This story is part of a new series covering the rising skate culture in Mansfield, produced in partnership with Skate Ohio.
It's a quiet Tuesday morning inside Crossroads Church 鈥� a converted warehouse located on a busy street in Mansfield 鈥� where Mason Wicker is already on the move.
As the facility services coordinator for the church, his job is to make sure the space feels as sacred as the purpose it serves.
鈥淲hen they walk into the lobby here, I want them to feel, 鈥極h wow, this is a real environment, so if they take care of the building, surely they're gonna take care of us,'" he said.
But lately, between restocking supplies and prepping rooms, Wicker has taken on a more personal mission鈥攍earning to skateboard.
At 31, Wicker is finally chasing a dream he shelved as a child.
When he was young, he developed an interest in skateboarding watching a TV program called the "X Games," which highlighted action sports like snowboarding, dirt biking and skateboarding.
But between North Central Ohio's Mansfield and the rural Amish community of Shenandoah, Wicker said there weren鈥檛 many sidewalks, let alone skateparks.
鈥淚 didn鈥檛 have anywhere to skate," he said. "So I could only imagine it鈥攎e, on a skateboard.鈥�
His dream faded as he focused his attention on school, work and adult responsibilities. But it came rushing back on his very first day at Crossroads, when he saw someone skateboarding down the church hallway.
鈥淚 was like, 鈥榃ait, we can do that here?鈥欌�� Wicker laughed.
The skateboarder turned out to be his new boss, B.J. Price, who not only encouraged the idea but surprised Wicker with his first skateboard.
鈥淚t was like Christmas Day,鈥� Wicker said. 鈥淚t had blue and silver with black paint in this crazy drip pattern. It had stickers plastered all over the bottom.鈥�
Besides running the facilities at Crossroads Church, Price is also the president of SkateOhio, a nonprofit dedicated to making skateboarding more accessible. SkateOhio is 精东影业's partner on the latest "Sound of Us" series.
A veteran of the 1990s skate scene, Price remembers when new skaters were often unwelcome.
鈥淚鈥檇 been spit on multiple times at different skateparks because that鈥檚 just what the culture was,鈥� he said. 鈥淣ow it鈥檚 a complete shift. We love being more accepting, because that just grows the sport.鈥�
"We love to be more accepting and have better experiences for people who are learning, because that just advances our sport."B.J. Price
Falling forward
Wicker felt that shift during his first big challenge: dropping in on a quarter pipe ramp, a type of skateboard ramp shaped like a quarter of cylinder, at an indoor skatepark in Butler.
鈥淚 was nervous,鈥� he said. 鈥淓verybody鈥檚 like, 鈥榊ou have to fall forward.鈥� But I鈥檝e never had to fall forward.鈥�
Wicker did鈥攂ut he didn't stay on his board and landed hard. Then he tried again. And again. Twenty, maybe 30 times, he estimated.
鈥淚 was bruised, limping. But I was like, 鈥楲et鈥檚 keep doing this. Let鈥檚 keep doing this,'" he said with a smile.
Wicker brought home his already-forming bruises鈥攁nd a beat-up board that he now calls his trophy.
鈥淵ou look at all those chips, and paint rub off, and you can see the effort that you put behind achieving a goal," he said. "It鈥檚 like a personal accolade you get to carry with you every day.鈥�
Wicker's friends and family tell him they worry about him injuring himself. He's already suffered a sprained wrist, but he said the reward outweighs the risk for him.
鈥淲hen I鈥檓 getting my gear ready, all I鈥檓 thinking about is, I can鈥檛 wait to get those wheels on the ground, just get on the board and go," he said.
