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Since Sara extolled skipping in a recent post, I want to put in a word for bodysurfing as a childhood thrill I've never outgrown. And it's been great this week.
The surf was warm and green but the breeze was coolish. Even so, I walked in slow, ankles-waist-shoulders, and finally dove under. After a few waves break around me, I'm beginning to see the rhythm, and I decide if I'm ready for one of the big ones or want to start light. Here's one, just the right size. It swells up over my head and just as it curves, foam building on the edge, I dive out in front of it, kicking like hell. It breaks just right,pushing along my body churning and shoving me out and down, and I kick harder to keep my face from being ground into the sand.
I have to wonder, is flying really better than this?
And then it drains back, and I sit back and wipe the salt water out of my eyes, and run back in.
The surf was warm and green but the breeze was coolish. Even so, I walked in slow, ankles-waist-shoulders, and finally dove under. After a few waves break around me, I'm beginning to see the rhythm, and I decide if I'm ready for one of the big ones or want to start light. Here's one, just the right size. It swells up over my head and just as it curves, foam building on the edge, I dive out in front of it, kicking like hell. It breaks just right,pushing along my body churning and shoving me out and down, and I kick harder to keep my face from being ground into the sand.
I have to wonder, is flying really better than this?
And then it drains back, and I sit back and wipe the salt water out of my eyes, and run back in.