Breakfast on the Water - April 2, 2011

Ever since I began this glorious sport, Ted has charmed me with stories of his early morning surf sessions at Ocean Beach, then grabbing breakfast at the café on the pier.  So it can only be expected that one of my must-do's before heading home was to enjoy a little break-y at the café and watch the surfers in the lineup below.

An Ocean Beach landmark - the OB Pier Café
Photo Credit: SanDiegoDigitalPhotos.com

This morning was the day, and we drove down to the coast in the fog.  San Diego is typically foggy in the morning until it warms up enough to burn off the fog, but today it seemed denser than normal.  As we walked down the pier to the cafe, surfers who were initially hidden in the fog were slowly unveiled in the gray water.

Lined up in their black wetsuits, the surfers wait for their turn on the waves.

The café didn't disappoint.  It maintained the hole-in-the-wall feel that Ted remembered from years ago, and the portions were heroic.  We got a Spanish omelet (with chorizo for a punch of authenticity) and mango pancakes.  Those were delish, and delightfully tropical.  I've had blueberry, banana, and chocolate chip (duh) pancakes, but I've never had ones embellished with mango.  I felt like Jack Johnson was somewhere making a mental note.

When we finally gave up the fight and put down our forks, we paid our checks and walked to a spot on the pier where we could watch the surfers for a while. 

As we observed the waves rolling in under the pier, it became clear they had been building throughout the morning.  It was such an interesting vantage point, watching surfers from above.  We got to see them duck dive under, paddle for, and ride on top of these powerful waves.

It was a perfect way to round out our trip.

See you back in Florida.

Boot Camp - April 1, 2011

Yesterday while Ted was in his conference, I took the car and did one of my favorite things: explore…and maybe get a little lost.  This really isn’t as risky as it sounds because when you get lost in a big city, all you have to do is get to an interstate (assuming all of the interstates intersect at some point…oh, and it helps if you know which one your hotel is off of).  Plus, I had my cell phone with me if things got really bad – no, it doesn’t have GPS, but that’s why I have a map. 

Can you say, "map," boys and girls?  No, not "app." "Maaaap."

No sooner did I pull out of the parking lot did I see a group of people in a park doing boot camp-like exercises.  So I of course had to investigate.  It turns out this group (San Diego Fit Club) meets in a park overlooking Mission Bay and the lessons are taught by Matt, a certified personal trainer.  He told me they were meeting again the following afternoon, so I made plans to come back.

Matt-the-Drill-Sargent, making his rounds...

When I arrived today, Matt met me with a clipboard of forms to fill out.  There was a lot of legal jargon about promising not to sue if I got hurt.  That sounded a little eerie.  I didn’t know what to expect (I’ve never taken a boot camp class before) but I had a good feeling about the calorie burn that was about to unfold.  With the Olympic level of eating I’ve been partaking in the last few days, I needed some kind of camp…preferably one with boots. 

 

"I didn't ask to be a role model."

At 4:00 on the dot, we each got a 5 lb. weight and circled up.  5 lb. weights?  I’ve got this.  Then we got into a plank and for the entire duration of a Katy Perry song (“California Gurls,” how apropos), we supported ourselves with one hand, while we passed the weights to our neighbor with the other…all to the beat of the song.   Next, Miley Cyrus came on and we then circled the weights in the other direction.  By the time it was over, my triceps were beginning to tremble. 

After we put our weights away, we were instructed to run up two flights of stairs that led from the park up to the road overhead, then run back down the steep hillside, which became quite slippery with all of us running/sliding on it.  The first jaunt up was fine; it was the second, third, fourth (eventually I lost count) trip that brought my heart rate up to 500.  I definitely didn’t want to be the new girl who quit, but nausea was starting to set in.

“Are you there God?  It’s me, Maureen.”

We weren't given a set number of laps, so I had no idea how much longer I had to hang in.  Just as I was beginning to make deals with the big man upstairs about getting me through this, Matt called us back to circle up.  I’ve never heard such sweet words.  Even though I was seeing spots, I was smiling, knowing I'd see another day.

Man I love Google.
Photo Credit: martialarts.iweb.bsu.edu

Evidently, my smile betrayed my near-death state, because then he had us partner up to do deep squats.  You know the kind of exercise I’m talking about.  Ones where you and your partner have to sync up timing and your pull on each other – otherwise, if you lean too far back, you’ll fall flat on your butt…which just so happens to still be trembling from running up a dozen flights of stairs.

And so it continued for another 45 minutes.  We did walking lunges, walking high kicks, enough planks to build a wooden ship, and so on – all to the beat of Ke$ha and the like.   This guy really had an affinity for dance/pop.

How about some Lincoln Park to give us the false confidence that we’re tough enough to get through such grueling workouts?  I’d even settle for Eminem as long as he’s not singing about abusing his girlfriend…Creep.     

By the end of it, I could feel the lactic acid building up in my muscle tissue like the iron building up in the pipes of my 1940s-era home.  I knew I'd have trouble walking the next day, but it was oh-so needed after all the indulging I’d done, and how fun, working out in such a pretty place!  

Ventura Cove Park on Mission Bay

After I thanked Matt for the solid kick in the tuckas, I walked back to our hotel.  Along the way I began thinking, I wonder where we’re going to eat tonight…

The Hoff - March 31, 2011

Continued from previous post:

After our surf  lesson, we walked up Avenida de la Playa to grab some fish tacos.  Luckily the restaurant had patio seating so we could wear our wetsuits while we ate.  It felt glorious, sitting with the sun at our backs, warming us up.

Papalulus Restaurant - San Diego 

Once we were refueled, we rented some epoxy boards from Surf Diva, which were much closer to what we use, and headed back out into the water.  The swell had built to about shoulder high while we were at lunch and the waves had a lot more power than what we’re used to back home.  Keep in mind, most of the waves in the gulf form from wind, whereas waves in the ocean originate from the much stronger forces like tides and currents that have traveled for thousands of miles.

I got to experience this power first hand when I was caught sneaking up too far forward on my board.  The waves had no problem picking me up and pitching me over the front of my board.  The “washing machine” effect that I’d feel when getting tossed around in the wave was much stronger than I was used to, but admittedly more fun (like the scary type of fun that roller coasters are known for). 

The lineup was getting more and more crowded as the day wore on and we were having trouble getting a spot to surf.

With lineups like these, you better stay sharp.

Luckily though, we were beginning to get the hang of things and scoring more waves, in spite of the crowds and more intimidating sets.  It was so cool, surfing in the Pacific.  This was something Ted and I have daydreamed about for almost a year now, ever since that first day out on a board.  It was neat being surrounded by so many other surfers (not just sunburnt Alabamians standing right in your surf path). 

Cousin Eddie - there's nothing more to say.

After a couple of hours, we heard commotion down the lineup and saw two rescue jet skis roaring up to a surfer just to the south of us.  That’s it!  I knew there was some sea life (Read: shark) just waiting to have its way with one of us surfers!  We sat up on our boards and watched as the lifeguards pulled the surfer up on the sled and towed him back to shore. 

Example of a Jet Ski Rescue - Compliments of Explore.org Rescue

Oddly, there wasn’t any more fuss with the other surfers…and everyone returned to normal, so we began to think it wasn’t a “whitie” after all.  So we returned to looking for, and occasionally riding, more waves and enjoyed our time in the water.

After we came in for the day, I was at the showers rinsing off our wetsuits while Ted returned our boards to the shop.  While I was there, the injured surfer came up to one of the other showers, so I of course took this opportunity to subtly check for any gashes or tears in his wetsuit.  I didn’t see any so I asked him what the rescue was all about.  It turns out the guy had just dislocated his shoulder – which shows some epic commitment to a strong paddle.  Good for him!  

So maybe it wasn’t as dramatic as I was thinking, but either way, it was cool to see some real Californian lifeguards in action.

Yes, I did.

Surf Diva – March 31, 2011

Today was my first surf session in the Pacific!  I booked a one-on-one lesson through Surf Diva (http://www.surfdiva.com/), a San Diegan surf school that’s owned by two sisters.  Their shop is right in the heart of La Jolla, so after we got our boards and wetsuits, we walked a few blocks down to the beach.

This is where we met our surf instructor Zak (without a “C”…Ben Folds Five, anyone?  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZgXwA3c8YWc).  This dude was awesome.  What he lacked in height, he more than made up with in his enthusiasm.  He had a bright red Surf Diva ball cap (that was more the shape of a trucker hat than anything you’d wear on the ball field), and at the bottom of the legs of his wetsuit, there were slits that he cut; yes, like what we used to do with jeans about 15 years ago so they'd more easily fall around our boyish Doc Martens.

Winning.

He was smart about protecting his skin - he wore the same sun block stick we use for our nose and ears (Headhunters), but his was tinted.  The thing is, Headhunters is so thick that it doesn’t get fully absorbed by the skin.  Since his was tinted, it looked like he was wearing makeup.  I guess that's better than the alternative - working on the water all day, every day, would lead to skin that resembled John Candy's in Summer Rental.

After a quick water safety intro, we headed out.  The difference in power between the Gulf of Mexico and the Pacific was amazing.  With every wave that rolled in, it was a struggle to hold my footing, let alone make progress to walk out.  At one point I began to wonder if I would be able to make it to the outside.  How embarrassing would that be, “Ugh, so does a tow out come with the lesson?”

Luckily, it wasn’t soon after this bout of self-doubt that I made it out – hallelu-yer.  When the next wave that looked to be about the right size approached, I took it.  As with most things in my life, the beginner’s luck didn’t fail to come through. 

I turned my board into the shore, began to paddle, popped up and rode a nice hip-high wave back toward the beach.  It was thrilling, catching my first wave in the Pacific.  Unlike the sand-dune lined coastline back home, La Jolla Shores is a bowl-shaped cove flanked by 100-foot cliffs on either side.  In between the two dramatic cliffs was the beach, which gradually slopped up the hillside, revealing the stunning homes tucked in the mountain.  It was an incredible sight.

Photo Credit: suite101.com

However, like all my other beginner’s luck gems, it faded with this too.  After I got back to the outside, I tried wave after wave but I kept missing them.  I never thought I’d have an issue with the waves rolling up under me out in the Pacific, but this was obviously an issue with my form, not with the amount of power in the waves.

Who doesn't remember these!?

Dear Zak kept showing me how to really dig with my paddle and, I must say, that petite man had one hell of a paddle.  He dug so fast that his whole body got into it and he looked like a wiggle worm!  I’ve never seen anything like it.  But man, when he decided to take off for a wave, the guy took off. 

I tried and tried for the remainder of the lesson to catch another wave, but sadly, my first wave ended up being my last.  Maybe it was because of the crazy heavy foam-top rental board that I wasn’t used to, or maybe it was because I didn’t wiggle.  Either way, I paddled back to the beach with a wave riding thirst that needed to be quenched…