If you’re lucky enough to be at the beach, you’re lucky enough. I guess. Photo: Jay Ruzesky
Surfing provides us with endless amounts of joy, but we’re also forced to live with, and participate in, its inherent contradictions. Whether we choose to see it or ignore it, surfing delivers wave after wave of irony.
You drive somewhere beautiful – and spend the whole time stressed.
A friend said the other day: “surfers are really good at beating themselves up,” and I immediately followed with, “Oh yeah, I sucked today.” It’s hard to appreciate a hazy sunrise on the shore when you’re stressed about when the wind is going to change, or how you can’t land that air you’ve tried 750 times.
You long for fewer people in the water…but you ARE the people.
“Where do all these people come from?! Don’t people work?!” you say. “How is it this crowded, it’s not even that good!” But see, YOU are the person who came from somewhere, who purportedly has some sort of job, but still surfs daily, and who also wants no one else to be in the water, ever (except maybe your buddy who always buys breakfast afterwards).
The ocean doesn’t care if you had a bad week.
If you come into the session feeling bad about yourself, the ocean may very well decide to slap you in the face and make you feel worse. However, in doing that, the ocean might also provide you a fleeting chance at happiness — which is ironic in itself. Are you confused yet? I am.
Your best wave of the day is perpetually in the rearview.
You spend all your time thinking about the next wave, but when you butcher that last section, you realize the last wave was better…it’s a vicious, never-ending cycle that will torture you until the end of time.
You remember the one good wave and forget every negative aspect of the surf.
You can get stung by a stingray and a box jellyfish, but grab one sick wave out of 100 failed attempts and that one wave erases all the pain and anger. Are you bleeding? Yes. Are you surfing again tomorrow? Also, yes.
The conditions are epic…and you surf terribly.
This is why you sometimes love crappy days; because the opposite happens. Maybe it’s the hype, peer or self-induced pressure, or maybe you’re just not as good as you thought? Impossible.
You’re dying on the inside — but you look super healthy.
Have you ever tried the “surfer’s breakfast” at your local joint? It’s usually eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, pancakes, and fish tacos with a breakfast beer for dessert. But you’re also really tan, so there’s that.
You finally get the wave you wanted… and no one sees it.
No one’s looking. No one cares how many fins came out of the water on that last snap. After the five-minute glow fades, you’re not even sure yourself that it was that good. Ten minutes later, it’s as if it didn’t happen.
You check the cams all morning… and it starts firing the second you leave.
You’ve always had impeccable timing.
It’s always, always, always, peeling perfectly down the beach.
None of us understand the optical illusion of a mirage of perfect swells about 500 yards away. Paddle towards them and they’ll disappear like your bank account after you go to the surf shop “just to look around.”
When you paddle back out to wait for “one more,” the wave machine shuts off.
This has been true forever. I remember my dad telling me as we bodysurfed together not to say the words “one more” because they worked some strange, dark magic on the swell — and it’s still true.
You paddle out for peace… and immediately get territorial.
The ocean is like, totally “healing,” man… until someone drops in on you after you’ve been out there for five minutes. Then it’s deeply personal.
You spend more time thinking about surfing than actually…surfing
Forecasts, tides, wind charts, cams — it’s a full-time job. Your brain surfs so your body can’t be as sad about the 40 minutes of total water-time you logged over the last two weeks. Then there’s the actual sessions. Hey, three waves a paddle-out. That’s all you really need. But are you really getting those three waves?
You remember yourself as a better surfer than you are.
Every minute out of the water helps you forget that you often struggle with coordination and overall athleticism while in it. This is why you avoid watching videos of yourself surfing (and especially the Surfline Cam Rewind).
The worst surf of the week is still the best part of your day.
Even when it objectively sucked, you’re obsessed with that one wave, one turn, one memory — and you’ll stay that way until the next paddle out. What can any of us say? Surfing provides us with a feeling we can’t always articulate, but who cares? We’re hopelessly addicted anyway.
