By: Zac Heisey
I’ll never forget the first time I went surfing. It was a cold, dreary day at Zuma beach in Los Angeles. My friend handed me an ill-fitting wet suit and a surfboard that could float an elephant.
“What do I do?” I asked him. “Just paddle out” he yelled over his shoulder as he bolted for the water, leaving me on the beach. Rather than gracefully riding towards the shore, I spent most of my time choking on salt water and sea foam. But for some unknown reason, something changed inside me that day, a fundamental change. Even though I didn’t catch a single wave, the mysterious, raw, and ever-changing nature of riding waves had me hooked. I was enthralled with the unique feeling of nervous anxiety and excitement that comes with entering a world where I had no idea what to expect. It was one of the few times I was actually aware of feeling “alive”.