Surfing

I went surfing. I've waited my whole life to be able to say that. It's quite a difficult pastime to get into. Opposed to say, running, the surfing crowd doesn't seem too eager to get more people to join them on the waves. It's expensive, mildly dangerous, and rather exotic. We walked onto the beach looking like batman and batwoman, covered head-to-toe in black neoprene suits. Our rental boards were brand new and we doubted anyone noticed the surf shop logo painted on the corner. So, yeah, we looked like we knew what we were doing. And passersby had no way of knowing that it was our first time, so we got lots of admiring stares from beachcombers. A few of them were brave enough to ask us how the surfing was. We responded shyly, aware that we had no idea what to say. Eager to march into the freezing waves, we stretched out a bit and entered the water. It was surprisingly warm and we were able to stay out for an hour without feeling too cold. 7 hours later, we emerged one last time from the Pacific Ocean. The tide was coming in and we were so sore we could barely hold our boards enough to make the 500m hike back to the parking lot. As we peeled the dripping wetsuits from our aching bodies, we smiled at each other with these endorphin-induced drunken grins. It was stellar. I can't wait to go again!