Thursday, August 24, 2006

Surf:1 Cori:0

There is skin literally hanging off my toes. I smell exactly like a dumpster of dead fish. My nose and throat burn, I may never stand again. . . well until I head to the beach for round two...

It wasn't sunny, the ocean was brown, tasted like dead fish, and as a small but mighty wave crashed before me, I swear I heard it say "Today I will take your soul." As it foamed violently at my feet, I stepped in and waded out. I grabbed the board my brother offered me, he told me to start paddling, and then I died.

Actually, I didn't die. My board and I did an amazing underwater tumbling stunt. Horrifying. I found air and gasped it in like I never had before. Failure comes quick, but your next chance comes rolling in only seconds behind. For a moment I thought "Hell no, I'm out." Instead I grabbed the board again.

I didn't realize surfing involved so much underwater time, which is where I spent a lot of time. Dive, jump, paddle? No matter which I chose I mostly tumbled. I was being pummeled, but I didn't resent the ocean for its cruelty, it was like I was begging for it.

I am exhausted, but I can't wait to go out again. I didn't do much with the board, I eventually worked on body surfing, learning to recognize a good wave, and never turning my back on the ocean. And the death comes in "sets."

Now, sleep. More later.

No comments:

Post a Comment