Narrative Essay About Swimming Research Paper

I feel so nostalgic a lot of the time, watching the waves crashing into shore, people paddling out to hit the crests. I remember the feel of the water, the road of the wave, and the zen like moment when you hit that perfect pipe, and ride it halfway back to shore. I’ve been taking in a lot of the local Californian events lately, watching the new breed of surfer make their way out to the waves, hitting the spots I used to hit, part of me feels good, part of me misses it. I still hit the ocean when and where I can, I body board across some of the low waves near shore. Mostly because my swim strength is not what it used to be. I realized, reading over my previous blog posts that I never really mentioned what happened out there, and why my swimming came to an end. And perhaps sharing that tale can prove a little cautionary for those heading out for the ride. I had finished a local surf show and competition the night before, waves were great, some fourteen footers were making their appearance known, and I did relatively well, though wasn’t totally on my game that day. The next morning, I decided to get some extra practice in, and knew the waves would still be decent form the previous day. I wasn’t the only one, as about a dozen other surfers were already beach side when I showed up around six in the morning. We all paddled out, a couple locals
I was on approach, waiting, letting the first wave pass so I could rush the second, I sat up on my board to readjust where I was laying. It’s a good thing I did. The fin of an oncoming surfers board went right across my left thigh, if I were still laying down, I would have taken it to the back, or worse, my spine. It happened so quick, I didn’t even see him there the moment before. A trip to the hospital confirmed severe bruising on my thigh, coupled with a deep, and long crack in my