Bruised, battered...spectacular

One of the things I keep remembering about San Juan del Sur is that it doesn’t have a hospital. It’s something I definitely haven’t had to think about though. Our Chica Brava surf guides always watch after us, cheer us on, warn us about possible hazards and help us learn about the waves. I’m staying positive. Thursday was another great day on the waves as was today. However, today was the first day I was so worn out that I had to go stand on shore for a break. Although I’m very fit and have been preparing for this surf trip for months, I obviously have some more work to do. My cardiovascular system is great; it’s my muscles under my arms and at my hips that are screaming. These muscles are part of the pop up. Some of the others in the group and I are promising to keep practicing our surfing when we get home. We’ll have to use the small waves in Galveston, but that should be perfect for us. This will require work, but all good/fun things require work. I also need to retrain my muscles, which have strengthened in a particular fashion to support my cycling habit. For surfing, my muscles have to be retrained. Yoga will definitely help. I’m a certifiable surfer girl!

Pop ups, sore muscles, etc.

I rode a wave all the way in today! It may not have been pretty and it definitely wore me out, but I made it all the way to shore where I jumped off instead of being pushed off. Although this is a major accomplishment, I still need work on my pop up. I stood on Tuesday, but only for a short while before falling very ungracefully into the ocean. I can’t really figure out how I’m doing in relation to the others since everyone seems to be doing well. The camp is amazing. Our instructors cheer us on all the time. I’ve fallen in love with San Juan del Sur. Tonight was the first time I found other Americans. We were taken to a happy hour at a local hotel. The hotel is apparently a favorite among Americans, Europeans and Canadians. They were everywhere. Of course, we had to climb stairs to get in, and many of us were complaining of sore muscles. Despite the fact that I spin four nights a week, ride 100 miles a week (during the off-season) on a bicycle, do yoga twice a week and swim laps twice a week, surfing has definitely taken its toll on me. I’m sore in places I didn’t know could be sore. I might have the cardiovascular strength, but my muscles definitely need work. Crystal, our amazing yoga instructor, is coming back tomorrow to give us another session and, then, on Friday, will be back to give us massages. She says she is clairvoyant and can read our auras. ummm... I can’t wait!

Zero Tolerance

After nine long months, the time has finally arrived for my surfing adventure. The flight left early for those of us attending the camp from Houston -- 9 a.m. -- which I guess isn’t that early unless you start counting backward on when we need to leave to get to the airport two hours early. I was driving up with my friend Robin, and that meant that I would be leaving my house at 5:30 a.m. We allowed for plenty of time at the airport, which was a good thing, because the airport was a zoo. Everyone was going somewhere for spring break. Our plane was completely full and included several church mission groups and one medical student group who were all traveling to make Nicaragua a better place to live. At least five of us on our flight, though, were here for our own selfish reasons of learning to surf. We were met at the airport by one of our surf instructors. Melissa is delightful and just what you might want and expect from a surf instructor. Down-to-earth, fun and adventurous Melissa has been with Chica Brava for only a short time, but she had loads of stories about learning to surf and teaching surfing. We waited in Nicaragua for the others who were coming in on later flights. Our group includes Robin, Barbara, Britt, Leah, Mona, Olga and Marcia. We loaded in our van and headed to the “farm,” as Ashley (surfing diva) calls it. Surfing instructor Maite is also wonderful. After a brief stop in Granada, our van traversed the crowded roadways and headed to San Juan del Sur. We were stopped twice by police, apparently something that is common in Nicaragua. Olga, who speaks fluent Spanish, asked our driver about it and found out that it is not uncommon for cars to be pulled over because of the “zero tolerance” rule -- the catch phrase these days around the world for all occasions like sports, schools, etc. The driver was very polite with the police and received only one ticket; apparently, for the way our bags were loaded on top of the van. When we got to the farm though, I could tell that “zero tolerance” was not going to be a part of my vocabulary this week. The gals are fun and interesting, and the farm is spectacular. This is going to be a fun adventure!