Surf lessons from myself
Today we were back to the small, crappy waves we're so used to around here. It wasn't as crowded out, not bad for a Saturday. There were only five people out at the jetty, so I decided to go there.
All guys again ("chick" applied once more), no one seemed to be with anyone else, not much talking. We jockeyed for position with what might be called, at other beaches and in other circumstances, plenty of snaking and dropping in. I kept trying to get closest to the jetty, so I wouldn't have to worry about getting hit by someone I didn't see going left, but someone was always paddling around me. Silently, and without stinkeye so it was hard to interpret. That used to be the best takeoff spot, but it usually isn't anymore, so there wasn't that much advantage to being there except that it is usually where waves are steepest on a small day like today.
I had a hard time getting waves at first. I kept thinking that all the guys were watching me not getting waves, and that's why they were paddling around me and taking off on the same waves as me, because they quickly wrote me off as a buoy. Does that really happen? I think it does, but I don't know. The thought was depressingly familiar: No one lets me get waves because I can't surf and I can't surf because no one lets me get waves and there is no way out of this conundrum. Even with only six of us in the water, I felt like I might as well give up.
I spent some time in this trough of despond. Then I just had to talk myself out of it. Four of the guys were people I didn't know even by sight so maybe they weren't paying any attention to me at all or purposely skunking me. The other one was someone I have, let's just say, very good reason to have strong and complicated feelings about. On the rare occasions I see him in the water, this never helps my surfing performance.
I had to shake all these thoughts off. Surfing teaches you, over and over, the irreducible lessons of life, like: Commit yourself 100%. There is no such thing as being too aggressive (a lesson that continues to serve me well in other contexts such as finding Manhattan parking spots, which now miraculously appear whenever and wherever I want them.)
By mid-session, I was getting waves. After a few attempts, I was able to get rides. I got the popup back, not every time but enough to show I can still do it. I moved closer to the jetty every time someone took off from that position. In short, I got my confidence back. I tried for and got more waves. I had fun. My guy went in at some point, I didn't immediately notice, and a couple others appeared.
God bless the two little boys, not more than eight or ten years old, who came out and were immediately friendly and not stinky at all, and whose obvious stoke even as the waves got crappier was contagious.
All guys again ("chick" applied once more), no one seemed to be with anyone else, not much talking. We jockeyed for position with what might be called, at other beaches and in other circumstances, plenty of snaking and dropping in. I kept trying to get closest to the jetty, so I wouldn't have to worry about getting hit by someone I didn't see going left, but someone was always paddling around me. Silently, and without stinkeye so it was hard to interpret. That used to be the best takeoff spot, but it usually isn't anymore, so there wasn't that much advantage to being there except that it is usually where waves are steepest on a small day like today.
I had a hard time getting waves at first. I kept thinking that all the guys were watching me not getting waves, and that's why they were paddling around me and taking off on the same waves as me, because they quickly wrote me off as a buoy. Does that really happen? I think it does, but I don't know. The thought was depressingly familiar: No one lets me get waves because I can't surf and I can't surf because no one lets me get waves and there is no way out of this conundrum. Even with only six of us in the water, I felt like I might as well give up.
I spent some time in this trough of despond. Then I just had to talk myself out of it. Four of the guys were people I didn't know even by sight so maybe they weren't paying any attention to me at all or purposely skunking me. The other one was someone I have, let's just say, very good reason to have strong and complicated feelings about. On the rare occasions I see him in the water, this never helps my surfing performance.
I had to shake all these thoughts off. Surfing teaches you, over and over, the irreducible lessons of life, like: Commit yourself 100%. There is no such thing as being too aggressive (a lesson that continues to serve me well in other contexts such as finding Manhattan parking spots, which now miraculously appear whenever and wherever I want them.)
By mid-session, I was getting waves. After a few attempts, I was able to get rides. I got the popup back, not every time but enough to show I can still do it. I moved closer to the jetty every time someone took off from that position. In short, I got my confidence back. I tried for and got more waves. I had fun. My guy went in at some point, I didn't immediately notice, and a couple others appeared.
God bless the two little boys, not more than eight or ten years old, who came out and were immediately friendly and not stinky at all, and whose obvious stoke even as the waves got crappier was contagious.
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