surf-matic

Sticking a backloop

Every part of my body hurts. The bottom of toes are torn off by board texture and coral reef. My back and sides are bloody from the harness rubbing. Small, infected cuts and punctures wail in pain all over my skin. Getting in the water at the start of my session was a blast of deafening sirens from my body saying, “this hurts, this will make the pain worse, stop”. But of course, I didn’t stop. Hell no. I pushed against it– digging my harness into the grooves it has carved into my back and rubbing my raw soles on the rough texture of the board. This pain is not only part of windsurfing, this pain is windsurfing.

From the beginning, windsurfing hurt. The first day on the water spent uphauling and toe-stubbing, that was all pain and frustration. But somehow, windsurfing is the remedy for its own ailments– and more. After 20 minutes on the water, I can’t feel anything. Hell, I could have a broken leg or a gaping hole through my torso, I don’t think I’d notice anything while on the water. So strong is the drug that is windsurfing.

Most of my session was spent getting worked, going over the falls, and getting pounded into the reef. [enter frustration]. But I love it, somehow. I don’t really understand this relationship, but I suspect it is quite common to what everyone feels with windsurfing.

And I’m more than excited to kill it tomorrow. My frustration turns to something akin to violence that will find expression in wave rides.

Oh, and at the end of the day I made one of the new moves I’ve been trying for a while. Felt good.

Now here are a couple pics from the last days.

Throwing the tail above the lip.

Kissing the lip!