Here's something you might be interested in.
I'm always on the hunt. But I'm looking for what most surfers are trying to avoid.
I've become obsessed with checking the online surf report. I call my boyfriend at 7am and casually ask about work in between questions about what the waves outside his office window look like. I eavesdrop on complaints from seasoned surfers at board shops around OB, and my ears perk up when they sound disappointed. I -- unlike the rest of the surfing community on probably the entire planet -- am on the lookout for tiny waves.
When everyone else is disappointed it's knee-high and crumbly, I grab my longboard and jump on the opportunity to practice paddling into waves that won't slam me into the ocean floor. I've learned to decode the surf reports online, zeroing in on keywords: knee high, poor form, ankle slappers, mush.
I am a beginner and I am constantly doing a dance between pushing myself to meet new challenges and surfing waves that actually let me practice the skills I'm trying to improve. I'm becoming an expert at this bizarre tango. I decode other surfers' complaints about size, form, and shape with the finely-tuned ear of a UN interpreter, to figure out if my home break is peeling in a way I can work with. Or if it's too big or too rough for my skill level.
Don't get me wrong, there's nothing quite as thrilling as paddling up the face of a big, fast-moving wave, punching thru the top of the curl, and making it out to the line-up with my bikini top still covering all the appropriate places. Some days, my wahine friends and I are forced to paddle into surf that maybe we're not totally comfortable with, because.. well.. it's that or go home and eat a burrito (which happens sometimes). Trying my hand at slightly bigger waves pushes me further, in a way that I wouldn't push myself. The ocean serves as my coach, the way my marathon mentors pick up the pace just when I'm convinced I can't run one more mile. But hitting the wall during a road race, and hitting a wall of salt water as it crashes down on your head, are both experiences I try to avoid.
So next time a big swell has passed, and you're whining about the lack of surf, or the poor form, and you see a girl dart out of the surf shop and down to the sand-- don't be surprised. I'm just practicing my tango.
I'm always on the hunt. But I'm looking for what most surfers are trying to avoid.
I've become obsessed with checking the online surf report. I call my boyfriend at 7am and casually ask about work in between questions about what the waves outside his office window look like. I eavesdrop on complaints from seasoned surfers at board shops around OB, and my ears perk up when they sound disappointed. I -- unlike the rest of the surfing community on probably the entire planet -- am on the lookout for tiny waves.
When everyone else is disappointed it's knee-high and crumbly, I grab my longboard and jump on the opportunity to practice paddling into waves that won't slam me into the ocean floor. I've learned to decode the surf reports online, zeroing in on keywords: knee high, poor form, ankle slappers, mush.
I am a beginner and I am constantly doing a dance between pushing myself to meet new challenges and surfing waves that actually let me practice the skills I'm trying to improve. I'm becoming an expert at this bizarre tango. I decode other surfers' complaints about size, form, and shape with the finely-tuned ear of a UN interpreter, to figure out if my home break is peeling in a way I can work with. Or if it's too big or too rough for my skill level.
Don't get me wrong, there's nothing quite as thrilling as paddling up the face of a big, fast-moving wave, punching thru the top of the curl, and making it out to the line-up with my bikini top still covering all the appropriate places. Some days, my wahine friends and I are forced to paddle into surf that maybe we're not totally comfortable with, because.. well.. it's that or go home and eat a burrito (which happens sometimes). Trying my hand at slightly bigger waves pushes me further, in a way that I wouldn't push myself. The ocean serves as my coach, the way my marathon mentors pick up the pace just when I'm convinced I can't run one more mile. But hitting the wall during a road race, and hitting a wall of salt water as it crashes down on your head, are both experiences I try to avoid.
So next time a big swell has passed, and you're whining about the lack of surf, or the poor form, and you see a girl dart out of the surf shop and down to the sand-- don't be surprised. I'm just practicing my tango.