Why — And How — To Watch Women’s Surfing in the Olympics — Part 5 — The Surfer

What you don’t see with the surfer:

Reflexes — insane. Thousands of pounds of wind and water are steamrolling, shifting, changing, morphing, in an ever-changing environment, and the surfer is adapting instantaneously through every second of the ride.

Decision-making — nuts. With all the variables described so far in this article, the surfer brings their thousands of hours of water experience, training, and talent to every moment of every wave. There is never a second that it relents. Decisions are made from the moment they see the wave on the horizon, until they have completed, or not completed, the ride.

Consequences — unparalleled. If you miss a ball in basketball, you disappoint your team. If you fall in gymnastics, snowboarding, pairs ice skating, you can be badly injured by the cold hard ground, but you still can at least assess your environment. If you misjudge a 10-foot wave, you could be drilled by the lip into a jagged reef, held down by the wave, cut, concussed, or drowned.

Why — And How — to Watch Women’s Surfing in the Olympics — Part 4 — The Wave

Now we journey into the details of the most torrid of love affairs, one with the most immediate consequences, and the most complicated relationship of a surfer’s life- the wave.

Unlike any other playing field, the constant in surfing is change. No wave is ever the same. Even in the most consistent breaks (surf areas), every wave poses a new challenge. It would kind of be like snowboarding, if the half-pipe kept shifting size and direction, if the mountain slid, rose, fell, and churned. If the snowboarder had to paddle to catch it to even try their graceful carves. If, in order to fly high above the edge, they had to choose the right one, and read the shifting banks, and navigate the angle of lift just as the edges collapsed.

Why — And How — To Watch Women’s Surfing in the Olympics -Part 2, The Wipeout

What you don’t see when a surfer falls off a wave, is what happens underneath it. Waves have a circular motion when they break that I could best describe as a churning combustion chamber. The foam, which looks soft and heaven-like from a distance, is actually more like a pounding, thrashing explosion, and when you are inside of it, you are a part of that explosion. Lest you think that smaller waves weaken in their intensity, smaller waves can be more hammering than large ones, because the enormous power of the wave is unleashed in a tiny corridor, with maybe just a foot or two of water to act as a “cushion,” — if you can call a thrashing explosion a cushion — between the surfer and the ocean floor.