Lesson Two - July 9, 2010

All I’ve been thinking about lately is getting back out on a board.  Let’s face it, I’m hooked.

Luckily it wasn’t but a few days after my first lesson that the winds kicked up a little surf, so one morning before work I had Lesson Two.  It was fun loading up the board just after sunrise and driving down to a quiet beach while most people were still sleeping.  It felt so…surfer-esque.  I mean, this is what surfers do, right?  They hit the waves before the rest of the world hits their snooze button.

There was an energy in the air as we rounded the corner to the first gap between beach houses where we could see the waves.  I couldn’t wait to see what my new playground was going to bring me that morning and I was hoping for a repeat of Lesson One. 

Oh.  The waves are actually much bigger today.  Now, by “much,” I mean double the size, so 2-4 feet instead of 1-2.  It certainly wasn’t huge, but it was enough to get tossed around in; so as I strapped my leash around my ankle, a feeling of insecurity washed through me.

Two things about bigger waves: 1) They make it much harder to paddle out to the lineup and 2) they are scary when you get pounded by them and all of their force. 

When we went out the first day, the surf was so small and gentle that we didn’t really cover any paddle-out tactics.  So it wasn’t until this next lesson when I started paddling, that I realized I had no real plan for what to do when a wave came and broke on top of me.  The first time this happened, I just held onto the rails of the board and closed my eyes.  Come to find out, this isn’t the “recommended way” to get to the outside (I know, weird).  Instead of charging through the waves, the waves charged through me.  Each time a wave would come, it would push me back toward the shore and I’d lose most of the ground I had just gained. 

For those of you who haven’t experienced this plight of a beginner surfer, it’s maddening.  Paddling with everything you’ve got, only to get smacked in the face with a wall of water and pushed back, then knowing you have to do it all over again, is not the most gentle way to wake up.  Somehow, I didn’t anticipate this frustration as we were excitedly driving down to the beach (probably listening to Bob Marley’s “Could You Be Loved”).  But there I was, with the sun coming up over my left shoulder, trying to get to the outside of the break as I was quickly wearing out.

In spite of this flawed plan, I somehow got out and started looking for waves that seemed promising.  However, each time I tried for a wave, I pearled the nose under because I was too far forward on the board.  This is the part where I learned lesson #2:  It can be scary when you get tossed about in these waves.

The tumbling around part is half-way fun in relatively small surf, but it’s the uncertainty of where your board is in relation to your head, and when you’re going to take your next breath, that worries a person.

After a little while, the thought occurred to me that maybe these were too big for my second lesson, so I came in closer to the beach to surf the white water.  That too proved to be chaotic because I got knocked around in the turbulent water, but most importantly, I was exhausted.  I just didn’t have any gas left in the tank and the sun was getting higher, which meant the work day was closer. 

Sunrise over the gulf

So I grabbed the surf bag from the sand and chalked it up to a learning experience about gauging wave size in relation to surf skill.  As I walked up the stairs over the dunes, I took one last glance back and saw the sun, now much higher over the horizon, taking its stance above the gulf for another beautiful day. 

Still, this isn’t a bad way to start the morning.

I LOVE This Sport! - July 4th Weekend 2010

Today was phenomenal!  After much ado about surfing, Ted took me to the state park for my first lesson and HOLD ME BACK!  I’m in love with it!  After trying for a few waves that didn’t pan out, I caught one that took me all the way into the beach—I think I actually may have heard him yell, “Jump off! You’re going to run the fins into the sand!” 

There were some other rides that were almost as good and in between those were (what I thought were, anyway) raving successes. I was successfully popping up on the board!  That’s a success even if I did lose my balance shortly thereafter—right?

In between waves, my partner-turned-surf coach explained how sets work and what you look for when trying to spot a wave.  He told me what the shoulder is and what it means to be too deep or too shallow.  I practiced turning my board by moving my feet under water and learned the importance of really digging in as I paddle.

St. Andrew's State Park

The day was perfect and the gulf was beautiful.  With white sandy bottoms and aqua water, I could see everything from my comfortable perch atop my board.  Due to the teeny, tiny waves, there weren’t any other surfers but there were even surprisingly few swimmers, given that it was a holiday weekend.  I felt a little like the water was my own playground, even if only for that mid-summer morning.

When I reached my maximum sun exposure (while we may be the Fighting Irish, we win very few battles when it comes to skin cancer), we decided to head in for the day and go over to the local surf shop to outfit me with “real board shorts and a rash guard that fits.”  Evidently, I looked like a poser in my Columbia fishing shorts (Hey—they had built-in sunscreen!) and my borrowed rash guard.  So we drove a few miles down the beach to the local surf shop, Mr. Surf’s (www.mrsurfs.com), where I was outfitted with real board shorts and a, rash guard that fit.

Finn's Island Style Grub - Panama City Beach, Fla.

Now, what came in as my second favorite moment of the day, behind the ride of my life of course, was the ceviche and fish tacos we had at the snack trailer next door called Finn’s Island Style Grub.  We sat on a picnic table across the street from the gulf noshing on our island grub, and I have to say, that was the most phenomenal meal I’ve ever had.  The flavors of lime, cilantro, and jalapeno mixed together almost seemed to sing the words, “day at the beach” and even though the next day was a work day, I felt like I was on vacation. 

I’m sooo ready for my next surf session.

A Surfer is Born

I grew up on the northwest panhandle of Florida, about 20 minutes from the beach.  As a kid, I loved the water and often tried to convince my parents to allow me to sleep in my swimsuit.  Yet, I never learned how to surf.  I tried once as a 17-year-old but I can’t really call that a success.  After what I can only imagine was an arm flailing of a paddle, I miraculously stood up on the board long enough to let out a screech of delight before falling back into the water.

About 10 years later, I found myself once again on a board off the coast of Massachusetts.  I was visiting a friend who had a board and, thankfully, a wetsuit and she was willing to let me take both for a spin one day.  After she showed me how to affix the leash and demonstrated a pop up in her backyard, I took her board down to the beach for what I imagined was going resemble a scene from Blue Crush.  It wasn’t.  The waves were sloppy and blown out so even if I knew what the “outside” was, I don’t know that it existed that day.  But there was a dad teaching his 10-year-old son how to surf so I figured it was doable…right?

I could barely walk the board down to the water because the wind kept trying to rip from my clutch.  However, the lack of funds to replace her board strengthened my will to keep her board tucked under my arm.  I waded out into the white water until I was about waist deep.  At that point, I figured it was safe to get on the board and start paddling.  Okay, so that’s a little harder than it looks.  “Maybe I should just swim out and pull the board along side of me,” I thought.  Yeah, not only did that not look cool, that wasn’t without exhausting consequences either.  So I did a mix of the two and finally got to where I thought I should be to catch a wave.

After some pretty sad attempts to spot a wave, paddle for the length of time that seemed correct, stand up on the board, then actually ride a wave—all of which were failures—the father of the           10-year-old felt sorry enough to come over and give me a few pushes.  He had some very helpful tips, like stand up when you feel the board being pushed by the wave (duh Maureen).  After several tries, my feet hit the board for one brief, shining moment, but just as quickly as I stood up, I tumbled back into the cold Atlantic.  Still, I was delighted by what I thought was a raving success and was ready for another. 

Amazingly, I didn’t have another, and after a few more tries the man wisely resumed working with his son (where the return on investment was a little higher—read, the kid actually rode the occasional wave).  I tried for a while longer but after a shockingly short amount of time, I was spent.            100 percent spent.  I’ve been active my entire life and an “athlete” for a portion of that time.  I've hiked the Appalachian Trail several times (carrying on my back, the food I ate and the tent I slept in), competed in a sprint triathlon, ran a half marathon, but my God—I don't know that I've ever been so exhausted!  My arms and legs were jelly as I was trying to take off the wetsuit, and don’t even get me started on the booties.  I thought about cutting them off at one point but that would have led me back to the whole replacing surf gear thing for my friend.

As I fell asleep that night—at the ripe old hour of 9 p.m. I seem to recall—I dreamt of waves and I knew I had to get back on a board.

Finally, last summer, not long before my 29^th birthday, I got the chance to learn.  My boyfriend got into surfing when he lived in California but he hadn’t done much wave riding after he moved to the smaller, less frequent waves of the Gulf Coast five years ago.  After talking about it for months, we finally loaded up his 8’6” 3-stringer and headed to the state park.

It was the 4^th of July weekend and it was like the patriotic angels were smiling down on me.  We were blessed with clean, slow rolling, shin-high waves that were absolutely meant for learning how to surf.  After 2-3 attempts with my boyfriend pushing the board right as a wave came to give me a little extra speed, I stood up and rode one all the way into the beach.  I could believe my luck!  But more importantly, I couldn’t believe how naturally it came to me!  “Maybe this is my destiny,” I thought.  “Maybe I’ll get sponsored and travel to beautiful beaches all around the world to surf!”

It turns out, I’m not some Poseidon-blessed wahine.  I’ve been going down a road of bruises, cuts, and board rash ever since that first day and my boyfriend has seen a side of me that I didn’t know I had.  We’ll call it, “surf (or inability to) rage,” but my surf stoke hasn’t faded so I’ve decided to record my experiences in a blog.  

Shaka to the mada, bra.