Re: Surfing: Conquering Myself
- From: Franz Gnaedinger <frgn@xxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Tue, 09 Oct 2007 05:16:50 -0700
On Oct 9, 5:49 am, EnderLocke <EnderLo...@xxxxxxxxx> wrote:
This is a personal narrative I'm writing for my English class. Any
help, comments, or criticism would be appreciated. Feel free to be
brutal. Thanks!
Here it is:
It was early morning, and the beach was nearly empty. The crash and
roll of the ocean sang a song of power that echoed off the beach
houses behind me. I turned and saw the waves crash into the pier,
several hundred yards in the distance. It wasn't cold outside, as it
was summer in California, but it was cool enough to raise goose bumps
on my arms. Or maybe, that was the nervousness I felt about the
challenge at hand.
I held a longboard surfboard in my right hand, with the leash already
fastened tight around my bare ankle. I was wearing stereotypical
surfing attire: a rash guard ("rasher" in Australian terminology) and
boardshorts.
I walked slowly toward the ocean, and the cool tide crept around my
feet. Soon, small waves lapped at the hem of my shorts. A moment
later, a larger wave crested at my chest; and with a little shiver,
and a little hop, I slid belly-first onto my board.
Paddling slowly, left...right...left...right, I plowed through the waves. My
arms burned, even as my legs numbed from the cold. As each swell
reached me, I was soaked with an inundation of saline water. My eyes
stung from exposure, but I stubbornly kept them open. Below the
surface, I could feel the omnipotent pull of the backwash from the
tide. I knew if I fell under, I would likely be pulled to my watery
death, kilometers from the shore.
At last, I was far enough. The board rose and fell as I rested. Then,
I saw the wave.
As it neared me, and at the exact second I felt the tiniest surge, I
placed my hands palm down on the board; the left closer to the front
and the right nearer the back. I pushed up, straining my biceps and
flexing my pectorals, even as I swung my legs up and around.
I had just managed to place my right foot on the back of the board
when the crest of the wave crashed into me. I lost my footing as the
board shot like a rocket into the air above me. I was plunged into the
deluge of water below. The water pounded into me, smashing my ribs and
doubling me over. The tremendous force expelled the air from my lungs,
and soon I was groping for breath. Water quickly replaced the exhaled
air, and I began to thrash around. The roar of the ocean was
overpowering to my senses, especially my ears, but somehow, I could
hear and feel my heart moaning as it anticipated an aqueous grave.
Suddenly, my knee scraped against the sandy bottom, and I kicked up,
only to find that I was only in knee deep water, and able to stand
easily.
My board was drifting back and forth in the wake and foam left from
the waves that had earlier overwhelmed me. With its fins stuck into
the air it reminded me of a deadly sand shark lying in wait for its
prey. My legs and arms were reminiscent of a beached jellyfish. I
dragged myself, coughing and sputtering, onto the beach, where I sat
and regained my breath. I was exhausted and sore, and my skin returned
to its previous condition: covered in goose bumps.
I shivered there on the sand and tried to convince myself that I
wanted to try it again. I rationalized that it would be dangerous to
attempt to beat the waves in my weakened state, but the part of my
mind that housed any of the leftover fortitude I inherited from my
pioneer ancestry told me that I had to try again. The weaker, more
timed side gave in, and I forced my muscles to move me back into the
water.
The second time was quite like the first, ending in me strung out and
gasping for air in the shallow tide. I was discouraged, and felt beat.
I gazed out over the ocean and realized the majesty and power that
lied in its depths. I was humbled. I was just a young man. How could I
hope to beat this monstrosity of nature?
From the deepest part of the soul, the part of me that is almost
elemental, the part that realizes my core values like right and wrong,
the part that is most me, a vision entered my consciousness of great
people who had conquered nature before me. Images of Christopher
Columbus, Captain James Cook, and George Washington perched
courageously at the stern of his boat as he valiantly traversed the
Delaware River flashed before my eyes.
Did you really see Christopher Columbus, James Cook,
and George Washington? I doubt it. Rather sounds like
name dropping to me. If you want my advice: go over
your paper and try to remember what you really saw
and felt in every moment, and then try to put this in words. You have
an ability to write. Now use it to write
down your own experience.
Then the mental slideshow
changed and I envisioned myself standing on my board riding into
shore. I knew I must try again and again, no matter what the price.
With building trepidation, I swam my way out into the ocean.
My newfound determination extracted energy out of hidden reserves
within myself. Or perhaps the force of my will became power. Whatever
the case may have been, I felt an odd sense of rejuvenation. But that
was probably all in my head.
When I had paddled for what seemed long enough, I turned my board and
realized I was much farther out than I had expected. This didn't
topple my resolve, but instead bolstered it. As my chosen wave
approached, the tension in my soul reached a climax.
And then I was up.
Racing toward the shore, exhilaration and euphoria permeated my heart.
I was giddy with excitement as I beached my board. I had won. I had
found that I could conquer myself, and once I had conquered that, I
was truly free.
.
- References:
- Surfing: Conquering Myself
- From: EnderLocke
- Surfing: Conquering Myself
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