Hubris

I did not get up early to go surfing all by my lonesome today- instead I managed to coax some companionship in return for a promise to let them sleep in. As such, it wasn’t until just before 1500 that I hit the beach with my mom and aunt (the girls elected to nap- darn screwy teenage circadian cycles). It turned out for the best, however, because the waves were far superior to those I was dealing with yesterday.

Of course, first I had to make the appropriate sacrifice to the Oceanids. Remember all that smack talk from yesterday about gentle waves and being able to surf with my sunglasses on? Um, color me hubristic. I went leaping into the water for a little pre-surf frolic whilst wearing said eye protection, and guess who Took Their Due. Yup. So I forfeited my sweet shades in return for some truly surf-able waves. I’d call that a damn good return on my investment.

Mom and Steph elected to watch my performance from the relatively safe confines of their beach loungers, and I’m pleased to report that I gave them something worth witnessing on my first attempt. Beautiful, perfect, lovely wave that I caught and rode like someone who actually knows what they’re doing. I even stepped gracefully off at the end, rather than my typical hapless bailout (from whence the epic bruising on my knees arises). So that was pretty fantastic, and they cheered, their mental preconception of my Surfing Prowess confirmed. I, of course, knew from previous experience that I had just officially blown my Talent Wad on the first wave of the day, and that from there on out it would be nothing but hilarious mishaps. I didn’t have the heart to shatter their illusions verbally, however- I knew my subsequent performances would eventually get it across.

No really- I wasn’t that pathetic. But I did pretty much hit my peak on that first wave. Plenty of flailing and falling and “I guess I’ll just surf this one on my knees as though I intended to flub the pop-up,” ensued, but Mom and Steph continued to be convinced that I was truly Epic. Bless their biased little brains.

There were a few other surfers out there with me, running the gamut from raw beginners to effortless artists. I was disappointed to find that the surfing culture does not, in general, appear to be as friendly as that which I’d grown accustom to in Oregon. I expressed my sadness at this to Mom, and she pointed out (and rightly so) that to be a surfer in cold-ass Oregon waters you have to really love surfing- you get out there to do it because you’re dedicated to it, and you’re necessarily stoked to meet anyone else with that same level of love and dedication (and okay touch of insanity). In Jacksonville people can afford to be sort of “Meh,” about surfing, because they can do it pretty much whenever the hell they get a whim- they live on the beach, and it’s warm all the time, and the waves trend towards the very-easy-to-catch (my latter performance notwithstanding). So the ratio of rude-holes is bound to be higher.

Still. I can’t help but be a smidge resentful that people take what is to me a great and joyous spiritual experience and turn it into an occasion to be an off-putting jerk. Now I guess I have an inkling of what a lot of my Christian friends experience on a regular basis…