October 20, 2005
I knew little about my surfboard when I bought it used at Islands for 350 dollars. I knew nothing of its past nor the person who owned it last. I was so excited to try out this new board it was as if there was a roadrunner caged up inside me endlessly sprinting back and forth. I knew that I had just bought a medium that I would use to elevate myself to a level that previously I could only dream about. I used to sit at Venice beach with a broken, shattered, leaky, dinged up log of a board feeling as if I was a painter, with a blank canvas in front of me, paint ready, but my paintbrush was old and splintered and the hairs on the end of my brush were nonexistent.
But today, the situation was different. Zooming down the line, the wave is like a clean sheet of paper and my board is the pen that strings my words together to compose lyrical miracles. Bulleting down the face of the wave, dropping down faster and faster, it’s the thrill of riding a wave the size of your home. I push my back leg down and out, in turn doubling my momentum and I switch directions now heading straight up the wave. The wave is like a twelve foot brick wall and at the top of the wave quivers as it sees me rushing towards it. This is it, the timing must be perfect. I reach the top of the wave, put all my weight into my back foot and push my foot out towards the sky. Like Muhammad Ali I deliver a blow so fierce Poseidon himself must be trembling in his throne. The spray from my snap fans out high and wide forming a perfect arc behind me. I am free, unbounded from the shackles of stress and work that I feel at home, the roadrunner inside me had been released from it’s cage. And as the day winds down and the sun kisses the rim of the endless blue ocean I return to land. Nothing in the world calms me down or puts me in a better mood then a day like today with my new surfboard. This is why I can’t stop surfing.
Over the course of the past year, I have broken my nose, cut open my head (nearly losing my eye), scarred my feet to the point they are no longer recognizable, sprained my wrist, visited the Emergency Room five times and have had countless minor injuries, all due to surfing. Nonetheless I continue to go back out every single day I possibly can and face the risk of injuring myself once again in the hopes of finding a wave like the one I rode on that first day on my new board. Ever since middle school I have only had one passion, writing, but this year I met and fell in love with another, surfing. Writing and surfing are two things I could not see myself living without, they give meaning to my life. Having something you feel passionate about, whether it be animals, politics, music, writing, or surfing, makes you a happier and more devoted person. At age sixteen I have found two passions and I consider myself one of the happiest people I know. A very wise person told me, “Life is the living you do and death is the living you don’t do.” Discover your passion, it will change your life and possibly someone else’s.