The Feeling of the Board
Ever since I was a little kid, I have known about the surfing world. When I was younger, I would just use rental boards or my dad’s nine-foot vintage longboard. At first, I would just go surf when my friends would invite me, or when my family was on vacation.
I got my first board as a Christmas present from my mom when I was eleven. It was classified as a shortboard for adults, but it was big for me then. My mom always told me that I would grow into it and keep it for my entire life. The board was a custom Al Merrick Rocket Wide, colored with Miami Vice blue and pink. After I started using my shortboard, my skill in surfing rapidly increased. One of my closest friends recommended that I enter a tournament, and I was so excited. Originally, when I surfed, I would do it for the thrill and adrenaline that would rush throughout my body. When I started competing, the thrill wouldn’t be from catching just any wave, it would have to be the wave, the winning wave.
Tournament after tournament, I kept winning, or at least getting top three, and I slowly started losing the love for just surfing, and instead, I just wanted the trophy. My last tournament was the East Coast Surf Championship when I was eighteen; I lost to a kid younger than me. As I walked back up to the beach out of pure rage, I broke my board in half, the same one my mom gave me when I was eleven. As soon as it snapped over my knee, the pain hit my heart about what I just did. I realized that I was no longer surfing for the subtle calmness and the unpredictable waves. After that, I told my dad I was going to hang up the wetsuit and just work on making boards as a passion project with my dad. I kept doing that until almost a year later, when my dad convinced me to go out to our old secret surf spot and just enjoy the waves like we used to.
I remember how natural it felt holding a board again, the smoothness of the epoxy resin, and the irregularities that remind me it’s handmade by retired surfers who became board shapers. As we paddled out, I just felt like I was home, the silence of the ocean when you dive below, when you can only hear the waves crashing down right above you. I ended up sitting out on top of the waves the entire time, talking to my dad about his life when he was young. Hearing stories I feel like I would have never known if I didn't go out and just enjoy the waves again.
Caston Christman is a freshman at Virginia Wesleyan University studying Sports Management and Communications. He is from Norfolk, Virginia, currently on the VWU Men's Lacrosse team, a sports writer for The Marlin Chronicle, and part of the outreach team for The Fishbowl Review.