Thursday, August 25, 2016

And that, my friend, is what they call "closure"

The Pad's been quiet for the past year.  About three months ago, I started putting together a blog post about the female co-stars Hollywood pairs Leonardo DiCaprio with versus the females with which HE pairs himself.  I gave myself a chuckle, but it became tedious assembling all of the blonde swimsuit models together so I gave up.  I've basically been spending every single free moment of my time in the ocean scraping together surf sessions here and there.  I've been compiling inspiring surf videos, clips, and articles, and surfing has become my new culture.  Since I'm so new to everything, the world is wide open to me!  (It drives my husband nuts whenever I refer to myself as a kook, because it's too close to the term gook.)

In the past year, I have gotten better at catching waves.  I know it will be another year or two before I am any good though.  Just when I get comfy making bigger, faster drops, the ocean will hand me bumps for the next month or so.  I've been riding an 8' (which replaced my shattered 8'6") and a 7'6".  Paddling is so much harder on a smaller board.  I do not know how short boarders get themselves around.

I now have Cameron Diaz arms from paddling.  They alarm me when I catch glimpses of them in a reflection.  My thighs keep holding on, though.  They could still provide a meaty meal for a finned friend, or keep me alive for a while if I were stranded on an island.  My hair has become fried from the sun and saltwater into a brown, frizzy mass.  My face resembles a brown leather sofa.  A year ago, I had no wrinkles.  Now when I smile I have lines of crows feet.  A cute surfer gal, I am not.  I resent the wrinkles, because I never fail to paddle out without a face covered in white zinc looking like a cross between an Asian ghost and kabuki performer.  

A few older surfers have told me I remind them of Hawaiian surfer, Rell Sunn.  I think it's because I hunch my back when I drop in. Regardless, Rell was an amazing surfer, a pioneer for pro-women, and she was drop-dead gorgeous.  THANK YOU friendly surfers for telling me that!

Being in the water, whether it's 50 or 70 degrees, foggy, under glaring sun, flat light, in a crowd, or completely alone, is such a gift.  Catching waves is pure bliss. I want to keep progressing and keep learning.  Everyone impresses and inspires me no matter their skill level or what they ride.  If they're stoked, I'm stoked.  Speaking of, I've developed a crush on a guy who's been surfing for 40 years.  He's laid back and has such flow.  He's also a nice person, who, if I tell him I'm going to San Onofre will ask me how my session was the  next time he sees me.  Sometimes I watch him drop in on steep ones and say, "Oh my god, oh my god!" to myself.  I don't know if it's the sunlight or stoke that makes surfers' eyes so blue at the beach, but his eyes sparkle extra brightly.  I used to purposely paddle away from him, but now I'm willing to catch waves in front of him. GET IT, GIRL.

I'm permanently drawing the blinds on The Pad and am headed to the beach, now.  The ocean calls.

Meh-maid artwork by Gemma Correll