Back to the task, I asked the lone lifeguard if it was safe to go out, and he said yes. I thought about sharks and wondered if I would make it out before I got eaten alive. I laid on the surfboard and started paddling. I had only attempted surfing once before in my life and don't really count that time because I had no idea what I was doing. This time was not much different, other than being confident that I was capable of doing this.
My arms were burning as I reached the break and seemingly huge (2-3 ft) waves crashed in front of me. I turned and looked back at the shore and it was a long ways away. A swell came towards me, I paddled into it, got some momentum, stood up, fell over and got thrown around under water. It was then that I realized that I was on top of a sand bar. I stood up. I made the decision to attempt surfing the waves after they had broken over the sandbar. By timing properly and pushing off the sand, I could catch the wave and gain enough momentum to stand. After a couple of attempts, I was standing and riding what was left of the wave. It wasn't epic, I wasn't shredding, but I was surfing, and I loved it.
I reminded myself that I was a beginner. It has been a while since I was a beginner at any sport, and it was humbling to not be good at something.
I stuck with it for 2 hrs. Until my arms were limp and I was having trouble popping into the standing position on the board. With my lack of upper arm strength, I decided not to risk drowning and headed in.
I had surfed and it was good.