Surfing in the USA

One

For as long as I can remember, I've thought I had the potential to be excellent at everything.

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to surf.

When I started at a new school in Grade 10 - senior school - the thing I was most excited about was that they ran a surf camp, so I quickly set to work convincing my parents to let me go. I told them my knees (which have since earned me the name Dislocato Girl) hadn't been too sore lately, and that my shoulders were all good. That surfing would be good for me, it would build up my muscles and keep me active. They said yes, and for the few months leading up to it, all I could think about was getting into that water and riding a wave; being one of those people I'd admired since I was a little kid.

On the day of the camp, I could't sit still in class. My feet were twitching, my hands were fidgeting, my brain would wander and I'd end up smiling a cheeky smile in classes that, on that day, could not have been any more dull.

We got onto the bus and I was still full of nervous anticipation. We drove for what seemed to be forever, and when we finally got there, all we got to do was look out at the tumbling, swirling ocean. The surfing would have to wait until tomorrow.

6am on Saturday, and I was up and raring to go. No matter about the dark grey clouds or the other girls who weren't nearly as irrationally excited as I was, I was gonna get out into that water, and it was going to be amazing. I'd stand up on my first try, and somebody would tell me I'm a natural. All my dreams would have come true.

I pulled the wetsuit over my body with all my might, sighed like the other girls about having to wear a helmet, but secretly didn't care. I listened eagerly to what the instructor was telling me. I was paddling through the sand, jumping up and singing 'surfing in the USA, woohoo!!' even though everyone thought I was ridiculous. And then, my time came.

"So, who wants to go first?"
I looked around nervously, hoping no one would put their hand up, and then, with fake reluctance and another cheeky grin, "I'll go."
"Aye! We have an adventurous one! I'll be nice to you for not being scared to make a fool of yourself."

I waded out into the freezing water, glaring yellow foam board alongside me, and the instructor teasing me gently. I was determined. I was preparing myself. I wasn't going to fall off the board and be laughed at, I was going to stand tall. The other girls would be in awe, the instructors would be excited to find a great talent, and I'd be riding on the top of the world.

I jumped onto the board, and had a couple false starts. "Ooooh here comes a good one! Oh wait, no, we'll just have to wait for the next set to come through."

And then it came, looming on the horizon. A wave that was positively tiny but perfect for my aim came rolling towards me.

"Ready?! GO!" The instructor pushed me deftly into the white wash, I mistook the adrenalin in my veins for the push of the wave they'd told us to wait for, leapt off of my chest and onto my feet, ready for my moment of glory, and slid straight off the back of the yellow beacon into ice cold water. I forgot everything they told me about protecting my head and just kept on getting pummelled until the wave couldn't go any further. I came up spluttering, looked around and wondered what had gone wrong. I turned back to the instructor and she grinned, "woohoo! You jumped way too early! Bit too excited, hey? Oh well, come back and try again, yeah?"

There's still hope yet, I told myself, and pushed stoically against the waves as I trekked back to the instructor and my friends cheered me on.

As I lay on the board, looking back and waiting for the instructor to pick me the perfect wave, I prepared myself again. This time, I'd do it. This time, I'd wait for that rush. But as it turned out, that time, I'd wait too long for the rush. That time, the white water would come and I'd lay waiting on the board, before it tumbled us over, and I was in the drink once again. I relaxed a little into the pummelling waves, and waited for it to spit me out. I came up spluttering, shook my head and shrugged back at the instructor. My friends giggled gleefully and I became all the more determined. It would happen.

I turned back, body encased by swirling currents, and fought my way through the ocean back to the instructor.

"Okay, one last try and then you can start pushing yourself into them. I need to help the others."

Rhianna, this is your chance. You're going to do it. You can pull it off. Ready? The voice in my head encouraged hesitantly.

I looked back to the horizon, waiting for the sweeping wall of water, no longer sure of my own dexterity. My instructor got excited, "woah-oh this is a good one! In three, two, ONE!!!"

I was off and I was up. I felt that white water hit the back of my foam board, moved my hands to hold onto its rim, jumped onto my feet, keeping low and crouched down. I wobbled a little, and slowly rose up, my face set in determination. It was like learning to stand up all over again. Slowly, slowly, I pulled myself upward, straightening out my legs until I was up, I was standing, and I was grinning and whooping like never before. My arms went out triumphantly and I laughed. The adrenalin was pumping though my nervous veins, my friends were clapping and cheering me on, and I was finally on top of the world. I rode it out for as long as I could, and that still felt too short, jumped back into the water and looked at my friends.

"WOOOOHOOOOOO!!"

They all laughed at me and I wasted no more time going back for more. I spun the victorious piece of yellow foam around, adjusted my ankle strap and ran back out to do it all over again.

Two

It's been a tad over six years since this day, and I still remember it so vividly. I haven't surfed in such a long time (stupid dislocato girl), but it's coming, I swear. By the end of this winter I'm going to be out there. I'll be falling off my board and spluttering and being absolutely battered by the immense ocean, but just being out there with my hunk of beat-up fibreglass will put me on a high. Except this time, I'll know not to care about being the best. Because now I know, and it is probably one of the greatest lessons surfing ever taught me, that quite often, it's ok to just be average at something, but it doesn't mean you can't love it and keep doing it all the same.

I hope you're all having a radtastic weekend! I'm trying not to fall asleep while attempting to complete my cacophony of assignments, and dreaming of a surf, a good book and hot chocolate. Rhi xx

Backlog: To the wind, the sand, the green grass and the sea...

It's been a while since I've posted a blog that I wrote during my high school days, but this seems thoroughly appropriate, and it's one of the few posts that I still actually like. About 20 months ago, I stopped being an insane child and decided to listen to doctors. I stopped doing outdoor sports, and worked on exercises given to me by my multiple physios instead. I began the long and horrible process of having 4 joint reconstructions, spent countless weeks on crutches or in a sling and slowly, but surely, slumped into a state of depression. It's not something I've told many people, I don't really like to talk about it, but in the past few months something has changed and I'm aware that depression is not something to be ashamed of. I didn't let myself stay there, I fought it every step of the way, and a few weeks ago I suddenly started to become myself again. There'd been stages where I'd been better, but better was never quite me. The feeling of hopelessness that it was only ever going to be just 'better' made it worse and worse, all I wanted was to get out and be myself - the crazy insane child who was constantly out and being active and doing the things that I loved because I knew my joints were fucked anyway. Now I've decided to go back to that and it's like my personality has come back, I feel like myself again and even though my emotions still hang on a tenuous balance, I feel lighter, like my life is my own again.


With this being said, I've decided to re-blog this (with some slight amendments). It gives me hope. It puts a cheeky smile back on my face, but more importantly, it has made me me again, instead of a person who hardly recognises themself.


So to the wind, the sand, the green grass and the sea...


...it's just you and me baby, you and me.

People often wonder why I don't follow doctors orders and go surfing or kayaking or running, and while I do say that it's because of the natural adrenalin that flows through my veins, it's also because I live in a world and a society where there is so, so much pressure to do well and become something or someone, and for me, the way to escape this is by doing crazy, physically challenging things where it doesn't matter if I'm a success or a failure. It's my personal way of escaping my family who expects so much of me, the pressure I place on myself to do well at uni, my friends who I love so much but just sometimes get a bit annoying and everything else that is playing havoc with my emotions and with my brain. It's my escape because when I'm out there, in the ocean or the sand or running on the green grass, there's no one expecting me to do something amazing. When I go for a surf, I know that even if the only waves that carry me are the ones that are pummelling me beneath their rough surface, that no one will be angry or disappointed when I trudge once again on the sadly solid ground. When I'm running around the oval inhabited by ants and birds and beetles and shrubs, I'm free from the expectations of everyone and everything, and I can simply enjoy the cool wind sweeping against my face and the floating sensation that follows.

But there's more than just that. When I go for a surf, I'm amazed that there is a single body of water with hundreds of thousands of living things swimming around inside of it, and that there's somehow still room for so many oblong bumps to rise out of the water and carry me and my surfboard (whether above or below) for a few meters before I either get my head up to suck in the oxygen or before I jump back into the blue expanse triumphantly. When I've finished my run and have collapsed onto the ant-filled grass I can be amazed that such tiny creatures exist so perfectly. That is, I can be amazed until one of them bites my back and leaves me with a sore, itchy red lump. Either way, every time I go surfing or running, I'm allowed to just be me. To be a version of me who has forgotten about the world and instead to be filled with liberating freedom and wonder.

So, when people ask me why I don't follow doctors orders and go for a surf or a run, I tell them that it's because of the wind, the sand, the green grass and the sea.

It's just me and them baby. Them and me.

Photos, Resolutions and just a little bit of Manic Smiling.

I dare you to watch this videoclip and not smile or dance or even just laugh at the clip because you think it's slightly ridiculous* :P

In the last week I've made a few resolutions about this year and next. I won't tell you what they are bar one - this year, I am going to go for a surf, and just the thought of it has had me smiling all week. I've been a bit down and out because I can't go out and do the usual crazy things that I do - surfing, jumping off of high things into some form of water, even going for a run or a long walk - all these things have been off limits for me for so long, and it's been making my adrenalin-junkie self become more than a little crazy.

Thus it has been decided that this year, I shall go for a surf. It doesn't matter if I catch a wave or not - all will be good as long as I get out on the water with a foamie or my hunk of fibreglass that I like to pretend is a surfboard, and attempt to catch some waves.

With this in mind, I've spent a lot of time doing the small exercises that I can do and attempting to exhaust myself at the beach. It feels so incredible to be tired and have sore muscles because I've been overexercising, and not because something has dislocated! Does that sound strange to everyone else?

This kind of ridiculous happiness over the decision to just get out there and do it has also got me thinking - is there something you've wanted to do for a while? Like, a persistent desire to put yourself out there and try something or get back an old skill that you might have lost? Because if there is, you should do it. Or at least decide to work towards it. Hopefully, it will excite you beyond reason and make your days just that little bit happier. Maybe you'll end up like me and walk around smiling like a maniac for no apparent reason. It's absolutely grand.

Hope you're all well (and that you like these pictures from the week's adventures) :)

Serpentine Falls. Just casually :P

Eating chips and watching the storm clouds roll in.

The young'un getting his ball suit fitted.
I think I may have been more excited than him :P

Brownie the dog - coolest canine of all time.
Oh and Hi Mum and Dad! :P

*If anyone read that and said 'mission accepted' (and succeeded), I am oh so disappointed in you. Listen to it again and ignore my attempt at humour!!!

Over and out.