APTOS >> Judi Oyama doesn’t follow societal norms.

If she did, she’d be spending her free time bowling, playing pickleball, or participating in water aerobics. Those are some of the recommended athletic activities for middle-aged women, according to Google.

Oyama, an age defying, 64-year-old Japanese-American, prefers something a little more intense and thrilling. That’s why she has competed in slalom skateboarding for close to five decades — a feat that has had her featured in several newspapers and magazines, on television, and will soon lead to her name being added to Guinness World Records.

“I know one day I’ll eat (it) and crash, but I don’t know, I’m still having fun,” said Oyama, a mother of two boys. “You can still eat (it) and crash walking down the stairs. And I feel like at least I’m doing something I like. I like the adrenaline.”

Oyama not only competes against women half her age or younger, she shines. She placed 14th overall — third among Americans — at the 2024 World Skate Games in Italy in mid-September.

Oyama plans to transition from her competitive career into a mentorship role for younger American skaters, but no one really knows when she’ll use the “R” word, retirement.“I always say, ‘Go one more year,’ but it has been 20-something more years,” said Oyama, a mother to two boys, Taylor, 25, a landscaper, and Ryan, 23, a paramedic.

What keeps her going? “It’s fun and it’s challenging,” she said.

Oyama planned for the 2024 World Skate Games to be her last event. But, by the time she returned home, she already had two more events on her calendar.

Last month she won the Gold Rush Classic Giant and Super Giant Slalom skateboarding events in Nevada City. Oyama prevailed while racing against two junior women — after racing as the lone woman last year — at speeds of up to 35 mph in 102-degree heat.

She’s scheduled to compete this weekend in the Honky Tonk U.S. Nationals in Nashville along with one of her protégés, 15-year-old Campbell skater Leiola Kahaku.

If this is the finish line for Oyama, it has been a hell of a ride.

“She is a superstar,” said John Ravitch, a former competitive skater who has known Oyama for more than two decades. ”I gotta hand it to her, she started taking her fitness seriously about 6-7 years ago. She put in the hours so she can compete against athletes decades younger than herself. She’s a wonderfully dedicated human being.”

Oyama has never stopped trying new things. For this reason, she learned to tail drop into a bowl as a 50-year-old.

A decade later, she’s still flying down BARs, an industry acronym for “Big Ass Ramp,” which are featured at the start of some slalom competitions and range from 10 to 12 feet high. BARs are an undertaking several of her male skater friends refuse to attempt, noting they wouldn’t do so even if they were 20 years younger.

“I don’t look at the stereotypes, because if I did, I know I wouldn’t be skating,” Oyama said. “I wouldn’t be going to CrossFit at 6 in the morning, four days a week, and trying to deadlift over 200 pounds. I think it’s because I don’t realize what the limit is. I don’t compare myself, because, otherwise, I probably wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing.”

Oyama, a 2018 inductee into the Skateboarding Hall of Fame, took up the sport as 13-year-old. She started on a board her older brother, Cary, made her in wood shop and practiced on the driveway and in the street in front of the family’s home in the Santa Cruz Mountains.

A few years later, she competed in her first race, the Capitola Classic, held on Monterey Avenue, as part of the Begonia Festival on Sept. 12, 1976. She said she wouldn’t have competed if she wasn’t able to coerce a female friend into joining her in the competition.

Shortly thereafter, skateboarding consumed her. She began training with world champion John Hutson, elevated her game, and picked up sponsors.

She not only has enjoyed career longevity, she’s remained relatively healthy for the duration. Sure, she has endured some spills. Her worst bail came while park riding as a 19-year-old. She suffered a dislocated and broken ankle while attempting to pull off a frontside air on the “washboard,” similar to a pump track, at the since-closed Winchester Skatepark in Campbell.

At a recent competition, she fell on her butt while dropping in on a BAR and tore a hole in her shorts in the process.

Her pride was hurt more than anything. So, after a change of clothes, she climbed back up the ladder to try again — and succeeded.

“I knew if I didn’t do it, it would haunt me all weekend and the rest of my life,” Oyama said. “And it scared me. It was scary.”

Oyama, who became a world champion in hybrid as a 43-year-old in 2004, has had a decorated career. Many of her trophies and medals are stored in a small shed in her backyard. It’s a museum of sorts, full of awards, contest posters, photographs, old boards, and other accessories, and located about 20 feet away from a 4-foot halfpipe.

Away from competition, Oyama remains active and is on her skateboard most weekends. She’ll skate to the post office, into the grocery store from the parking lot, or while on lunch breaks. … And, that’s outside of training.

Anyone who knows Oyama or has seen her skate will tell you that she has an edge to her. After all, she grew up in skateboard royalty and has put in the hours to be the best.

“She earned her talent,” said Henry Hester, 72, a former world slalom champion and Hall of Fame inductee. “She has a little bit of a chip on her shoulder. She’s a different cat, no doubt about it.”

Morro Bay’s Jack Smith, a Skateboarding Hall of Fame inductee who is considered the founding father of long distance skateboarding, agrees.

That chip is still on her shoulder.

“It has driven Judi for a long time,” he said.

To date, there is always something that triggers Oyama’s competitive juices.

Now, when a teammate or competitor makes a distasteful comment about her age, even if playful, Oyama makes it a point to finish higher than them in the standings.

Last year, one of her U.S. slalom teammates was mad that she finished behind Oyama at a competition.

“I got beat by a grandma,” the skater told her teammates — Oyama among them.

“Hey, I take that as an insult,” Oyama replied. “I’m not a grandma, but I am old.”

Oyama hasn’t forgotten that comment.

“When she was at her best it was because she was so competitive,” Smith said. “She always wanted to win. She wasn’t there to take second.”

Smith last saw Oyama at her Hall of Fame induction, but he knows the same thing still holds true.

“If she shows up, she’s gunning,” he said.