Body Surfing

I took my spin class today; with someone else at the helm his name was Tripp. Absent were the well choreographed scientific dance incantations that Kristen animates for me each week, but it was clear from the first few moments Tripp was and dare I say it going to be a trip.

Right out of the time tunnel of my past this angular man with a disheveled hairdo soon had me pounding my chest bringing me quickly to the anaerobic world KG had re-introduced me to. His chant “infinity on all sides” was one I had not heard before, but it resonated with me like a bell chime perfectly pitched and I was off yet again. As Tripp bounded on and off his bike dancing rhythmically nothing like Gene Kelly but nonetheless just as energetically, I knew I had found an alternative drumbeat I could cling to.

Body surfing was what came to my mind as I listened to Tripp barely audible above the music from my own adolescence. You might be familiar with this gearless beach sport in which you wade out waist deep and try to launch yourself on one of natures own thrill rides. What usually happens is you catch the wave, swallow a mouthful of salt water or get flipped over from the sheer force of the wave and end up on your back scraping the sand dazed and confused.

At the end of this ride I experienced all three. And by the time this ride was done, I was drenched in my own salt water, gasping for air and not wanting any more, at least not until next time.