Self-Mastering

(Pictures of me surfing will come. As for now, enjoy this hot surfer.)

This summer I have made many declarations. For example, I've been heard saying: "It's a no car summer," and "I'm going to start giving motorists the finger more often," and "I'm going to take my vitamins everyday," and "I'm going to kill Mary Murphy," and most recently..."I'm going to master surfing this summer." Master. Yep, I too immediately recognize how misguided that word is. I should of set myself a more attainable goal of, "I'm not going to die this summer while surfing." or "I'm going to wait thirty minutes after eating before I surf." Or "I'm going to learn how to communicate in Chinese."

On Saturday Dan and I went out to "master" the surf. As we pulled up to the beach, that I had experienced surfing for the first time at, I thought it was going to be a masterful day. The waves didn't look too crazy, and the water seemed a little above freezing. As we entered the water, my confidence began to grow. I felt like a pro jumping on my board and beginning the paddling process through the crashing waves. As my first wave came, I instantly "pearled" right over my board. (For those non-masters of the surf) pearling means your board goes down into the water and you go over. It's a wonderful sensation of getting knocked over and then having your leash yank your ankle a few more feet.

As I came up and pulled my board towards me, my confidence was slightly bruised, but not defeated. It wasn't until I got caught in the middle of a break and couldn't paddle my way out, that I heard myself saying, "Sonaof a B, I suck at surfing." For the next ten minutes I tried with all my might to get around the break and to my patient husband, who kept motioning for me to come to his calm waters. (Cue gospel application) Finally, I got around the break, and while laying on my board, I told my husband that I didn't think I was going to master surfing this summer. It was a sad moment, but I had to face reality. I had been surfing for almost an hour and a half, and unlike the little kid WITH A CAST ON HIS ARM (who had not only caught every single wave, but was paddling with one arm), I had only quasi caught one wave, paddled for almost an hour, rode one wave on my butt and drank most of the ocean. I was exhausted, defeated, and quite frankly, slightly whiny.

So, I'm now making a new declaration: This summer I'm going to attempt to surf and keep a positive attitude about things I'm not very good at, eventhough I'm typically quite coordinated, and there must be something wrong with surfing that doesn't allow for incredibly gifted people to excel at it. Yeah, I feel good about that.