I wait. For our instructor. For the chance to hit the waves. I wait impatiently. Through the longest 15 minutes of my life as our instructor teaches the proper way to raise (the surfing slang for standing up), the proper way to paddle out, the proper stance on the board. I wait as he finishes up the instructions. Finally, we get to hit the water. Finally, we get to try this sport so sung about and talked about and raved over. We get to surf.
I forget to close my mouth as the first wave hits. The disgusting taste of polluted salt water makes me gag. But all is forgotten as the right wave comes and the instructor pushes me off. I stand. The feeling of riding the wave is incredible. The board is perfect, hard and soft at the same time. The wave is strong, pushing me towards the sand. I arrive at the shore, wide-eyed, finally understanding why people love it. San Diego. Home of the surfers. Walk out on any beach and you’ll most likely see at least one person with a board, waiting, waiting for the perfect wave. They’ve waited for years, and will for years to come. I’m just one of the waiters, but now I know why they wait. And I know it’s worth the wait.
Posted September 9, 2013 on Wandering Educators