Not long ago, I put on roller skates again — for the first time in over twenty years. My earlier attempt, as a child, had ended in a spectacular collapse before I even managed a step. Now in my thirties, with a back that complains when I bend and legs that protest after a staircase, I decided to try again, fully aware of the risks but determined nonetheless.

My expectations were lower than low: just stay upright for a while and avoid crawling off the rink. Yet, even standing up felt like a negotiation with my own brain. My amygdala immediately flagged danger, projecting dramatic images of possible falls, while my daughter glided around with carefree joy.

For adults, learning something new is less about novelty and more about confronting risk. But the same neural systems that helped us as children — the motor cortex, cerebellum, and basal ganglia — remain active. Research shows that even older adults can increase grey matter when they acquire new skills. Every wobble and micro-adjustment lays down a new neural pathway.

Fear, of course, complicates things. Each roll forward triggered alarms, but the prefrontal cortex acted like a rational counterbalance, reminding me I was safe. This process mirrors exposure therapy: repeated safe practice slowly convinces the brain that skating is not a threat.

In just one session, I collected small victories: standing without collapsing, learning to get up without crawling, and accepting my lack of grace. Those modest successes felt extraordinary because they were hard-won.

The lesson? Novelty changes the brain. Neuroplasticity may be slower in adulthood, but it never disappears. Each awkward step reshapes us. My bruises weren’t evidence of failure — they were signs of growth in motion.

And so, the plan is simple: keep practicing, keep wobbling, and let my brain slowly rewrite the story of what I can do.