Learning to Surf

Surfing is hard. For one thing, there are a number a variables that you have to account for - unlike other sports where you can practice skills on a static surface. You can practice the steps needed to stand on the board while laying on your board on the beach, but you get pretty comfortable at this quickly. But don't make the mistake that this skill-set will work as smoothly in the water. Each wave is slightly different than the last, and they don't come in regular intervals either. Swimming out through the breakers to where the waves are is a necessary skill, and if you can't master that, then you might just have to stick with with surfing on the breakers a few inches high on a gigantic board and pretending that you are cool.

Running out into the surf, I jump onto my board as a breaker crests in front of me and then paddle with both hands toward the next breaker. Depending on whether the breaker is white or not, I either float over the top or duck-dive into it. My level of exhaustion also has to be taken into account, and if I am too tired to take a breath that will get me under the wave without taking in another gulp of sea water, I close my eyes and cling to my board and hope that I get over the top. Paddling hard after the second wave, I push through the third and continue paddling. My upper back begins to burn, and I glance to the side. Beside me, playing in shallows a couple feet deep are some children. I have made no forward progress whatsoever.

If by chance I can make a concerted effort to force my way through the surf, I turn the board back to the beach and drift, gathering my energy and waiting for a wave that I can catch. If a wave doesn't catch me and roll me, scraping me against the sand or knocking my head against the surfboard (I still have a swollen bump over my right eye), I wait for something that I might possibly be able to surf. Feeling the water gather behind me, I paddle furiously with both arms and then quickly bring them between my chest and my board. I bring my left foot forward and then my right foot past my planted left foot as I push my body upright. I am surfing. I yell at Kyle to get out of the way as I don't have the control necessary to carve around him, and he jumps to the side towards Jordache, eyes wide. After I break the surface of the water and gasp for breath, I look towards Jordache and Kyle. Kyle's board has hit Jordache squarely in the thigh, and Jordache is loudly voicing the possibility of a hematoma. A typical wave.