I’ve wanted to learn to surf for like…ever…
When I graduated college my dad gave me a wad of cash and a hand-written note that said move to California, buy a board and pursue your dreams…or something along those lines.
And while I managed the move to California part, I never quite got the surfing bit down. It was so much more terrifying than it looked. If you made it past the onslaught of whitewater - there were the forty or fifty jacked up dudes getting all moody and territorial over waves - and then there was the nosediving, the crashing, the not knowing which way was up or down, the jagged rocks, the feeling like you were drowning, the bonked head, the scraped feet, the sinus cavity full of salt water, the hallelujah-I-made-it back-to-the-surface-gasp for air. Only to get crushed again by the second wave of the set rolling in. Enough to make you drag yourself to land sniffing and snorting - and totally un-psyched to go back.
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