Crash, Swish, Roar. The lonely empty silence is overpowered by a wall of foam rushing towards me. Wheels of sand are churning beneath my feet. My golden locks are flattened and hunched over my head to form a thick curtain over my eyes.
Light ripples are printed against my olive stomach as the sun beams through the oceans unsteadiness. I look below me and can’t see where the sand bank ends; I look above and realize it’s a long way to the top. Don’t panic Kate, you ” ll get through this. I try to paddle to the top but am halted by something severely weighing me down- My board. That’s what got me in this mess in the first place.
I can see the floral pattern peeping through the sand that is rapidly crawling over it. I quickly rip apart the Velcro of my foot strap and watch my board float to the surface effortlessly as I attempt climbing through the water to reach the surface. The fin of my board becomes more visible to me as I ascend. Finally, an alleviating sensation blasts through my mouth. Air. Crash, Swish, Roar.
Just as I get a breath, the powerful monster swallows me once more. It finally hits me that I’m going to be under a long time. These are 20 ft waves, I think to myself. There is no way I am getting out of here the easy way.
I feel the blood surge to my head as the paranoia sets in. When I was 5 years old, Dad woke me up one morning and informed me that he was finally going to teach me how to surf. I was ecstatic. I used to watch my brothers in envy as I crouched on the damp sand with my head between my hands resting on my knees, sulking at the fact that I wasn’t allowed to surf until I was 5.
The Essay on Running Head: Discussion Board
1. What are some ways the Christian gospel is perceived in our culture? The Christian gospel is perceived in our culture as “confusion” or that Christians consider themselves to be greater than people of other religions. The one that bothers me is that Christians are hypocrites and that Christians say one thing and do another. Some of the perception are well grounded because Christians, especially ...
Well, that time arrived when Dad was taking me, and nothing was going to hold me back. I watched Dad approach me as he returned from a blue and white hire tent with a long (well what seemed long at the time), bright yellow foam board. It had a small white fin sticking out its rear. We stayed shallow and like any impatient 5 year old I began to suffer from frustration as I continuously nose dived into the sand at my efforts to stand up. My skinny, weak arms were stiff and tender from the paddling and my body was beginning to give in after 2 hours of consistent failure.
Then I saw Matt, my oldest brother draw near to us as he strolled casually across the sand. He grunted to himself arrogantly as he watched me disappear beneath the whitewash several times. I knew I had to show him I could do it. As the wall of foam advanced, I paddled my tired little limbs as fast as I could, and used the last of my energy as I brought them underneath me and stood up on the board. A cold gust of wind embraced my face and the adrenalin pumped through my body.
‘That ” ll show him’ I thought to myself- those were the greatest 3 seconds of my life. Air. Crash, Swish, Roar. I was 8 the first time I went surfing with both my brothers.
The waves were perfect that day. They glistened magically as the contrast of the sunset reflected onto the crystal blue water. We paddled out to the back, and bopped on the water as we sat on our boards waiting for the ideal breaker. The swell mounted as the wave began to form. ‘This is it!’ yelled Blake as we got down on our boards. We viciously paddled as the wave began to break.
It was then that I felt that thrilling sensation and knew I was on it. We all were. As we stood up dipped down the wave together, a flock of seagulls caught my attention as they soared over our heads. The same flock of seagulls that flies over my roof every day, united as they guide each other through life.
This time, we were the seagulls, my brothers and I as we rode that wave. Air. Crash, Swish, Roar 29 th April 2000- That was the day I got my first real surfboard. Not an amateur, thick foam board, but proper fiberglass. That was the only thing I wanted to do on my 10 th Birthday. I knew that the morning of my 10 th Birthday was the day that Dad had promised to reward me for my improvement.
The Term Paper on Time When Women Sports Men Olympics
BOUND TO BE DIFFERENT People have many heroes in their lives that they look up to, but as one ad states: "Who are your heroes Did you name an actor Did you name an athlete (Did you name any women) Why don't we think of women as heroes Maybe it's because no one ever shows them to us. We have to take the time to find them, celebrate them, and make sure these heroes are seen, so we can find the ...
When I arrived at the surf shop, there was an overwhelming selection of boards. They went from 4 ft, all the way up to 10 ft. Green, blue, yellow, black, white, flowers, spirals- the choices were boundless. I felt like a kid in a candy store.
Dad was trying to grasp my attention to which one I wanted, but I was mesmerized by the colours and patterns standing before me. After what seemed like hours of deciding, I finally selected the one I wanted. It was 5 ft 8 and carved into a leaf like peak at either side. My ecstatic face gazed back at me amongst the glossy floral design of my new board.
Crash, Swish, Roar. The face, its shrieking at me now. Get to the top. Get to the top.
This time, its not ecstatic, its fuming. A vague picture is flashing before me. There’s a podium, 3 people. 3 bikinis. Women, 3 women poised on the platforms. The highest woman is wearing my costume.
She’s holding a trophy, engraved ‘1 st place- World Surfing Championships-Oahu.’ The woman is… me. I feel the bubbles trickling over my face, bubbles of champagne, celebration. People are chanting my name ‘Kate, Kate, Kate’- Happiness.
Flashes are confronting me from all directions- People are photographing me. Everything feels close- like I can grasp it in the palm of my hand. Lights are blinking from every angle, faster and faster. The chants grow louder. Suddenly, the flashes unite and an overwhelming glow encloses me. Silence.
Crash. Word Count: 1, 017.
