Today was really my second-ever surf (on a board that is).
I had my first lesson three weeks ago with my mate John who showed me the basics of paddling, getting through waves, and the early principles of turning into a wave and catching it.
We surfed at Manly Beach, just north of the Surf Club
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and it was a beautiful sunny morning with nice little waves. Perfect for my first time. John helped me choose a foam longboard from the surf shop across the road, explaing that the long board was easier to learn on, and that the foam would stop my head from splitting open if I happened to connect with it in the water.
This first lesson was fun but exhausting, and my ribs ached like hell for a few days 'cause I'm not used to lying on a board. But if one can be hooked after one experience, than I'd say I probably am.
Fast forward to today, and I'm sitting on the same beach, my heart rate at about 900 bpm, looking at a malevolent ocean that has just tried to kill me. But, if I'm fair I should say that it's my lack of experience and deep lack of fitness that has me sitting here feeling like a cheetah that tried to chase down Casey Stoner.
Suffice to say that the waves are a lot bigger than last time, and I've just spent twenty minutes trying to get past the first line of breakers - not much further out than the end of the outflow pipe that's right beside me.
After 20 minutes I gave it up as a bad joke and here I sit, my heart rate falling slowly and a rueful smile spreading across my face. I feel a little two-steps-forward, one-step-back at the moment - but I'm determined to continue - so bring on next weekend!
