I’m aching for that crush. Specifically the wave crush from a rip curl, sloping sand, high tide. I’m on the edge of the grad school surf. Hoping to ride this out, slide out of the barrel smooth, eyes open, head down, but face up.
I’m in that space where I’m facing down the waves. Letting them build bigger and bigger until the right set appear. I haven’t been on a board in years n years. Doesn’t stop me from going out though. My back is strong enough for a breaker.
Do you know that moment? When you’re still standing in hip deep water, heels dugs in because the tide in NorCal is determined to take you under, feeling the pull and loving to defy it, waiting like in double dutch, catching the vibe, the rhythm of the surge and then the payback. The white water you have to slip under to get to the rolling deep. Yeah, that moment. I’m there.
It’s all coming at me. Hard. I’m staring it down, and at just the right time, I’m going to push my body under, listen to the roar, feel the hydraulics try to break my back, lengthen my spine, kick my legs and pop up on the other side, breathe, smile and swim like crazy over the next swell. Just to arrive in the quiet cold moving deep. Where I can do flips and twirls and chill with seals and sea otters.
Just. not. yet. Have to push through the shallows, trick the white water into letting me pass. It’s smarter to go under than over. 21 days. 3 weeks. This grad school adventure is almost over.