I am a huge fan of the Beach Boys. When I was younger I went to Costa Rica and had a surf instructor named Miguel, who I promptly fell in love with. After that, I would listen to Surfer Girl on repeat and swoon at the thought of my life if I lived like a Beach Boys album. Unfortunately, I went home after Costa Rica and found the Oregon Coast waves far less forgiving, and it’s sun far less effective at warming my cheeks. Still, I have always wanted to be a surfer. The lifestyle is so appealing, and I’ve tried to adopt every aspect that I can while living inland and being not very good at surfing. When we were in California, the people we were staying with offered to take us surfing, and I was stoked because this was finally my chance to live the life.
The problem was, I didn’t know how to surf. We woke up early that morning and checked the surf report, you know like the professionals do. The waves were looking great, or at least that’s what the actual professional told us. Once we were at the beach, the first task at hand was to put on the wet suits we were borrowing. I really don’t think “put on” does justice to the intense workout that was climbing into that wetsuit. Once I jammed my feet down the tight tubes of the legs and wiggled them into position, I started sweating while trying to pull it over my calves and thighs, making a vain attempt to equally distribute the unforgiving fabric over my legs. Even harder was pulling it over my hips and get my arms through the sleeves. My first mistake was doing both arms at the same time, because then, obviously, you can’t use your arms. What followed was the invention of a dance move, which I really need to get patented before someone tries to claim it as their own, because from where I was standing it was incredible. Passers-by probably disagreed, or maybe just found it more entertaining than amazing. Did I mention that someone had used these wet suits the night before? Yep. They were still damp. Not helpful.
If I thought that putting on the wetsuit was hard, trying to stand up on a surfboard on a popular surfing beach in front of a bunch of people living the life I wanted, and doing it well, was harder. I think I stood up for a collective sixteen seconds in the few hours we spent, but as time went on, my short stints of surfing glory got longer. The sporadic few seconds of exuberance were worth the beating given to me by the pacific in between.
I feel like there’s a life lesson hidden in this. Something cliche along the lines of when life beats you down get up again… ya know. Pinterest quotes. Life lesson or not, I left the beach sore and sandy, but just wanting to go back out again. Next time I surf, I’ll get a little bit better. In the meantime, I think I’ll buy some Ripcurl gear, or maybe a bongo drum. Baby steps, right?
Hang loose fam