Hi, my name is Cynthia, and I’m a surf addict.
My addiction began over seven years ago, when I rode a gentle knee-high wave on a waterlogged 10′ foam surfboard in Florida. I was instantly, irreversibly hooked on the feeling. I bought my first surfboard the next day, and spent the summer floundering around in the ocean, teaching myself to surf. My occasional wave-riding successes fueled my addiction and kept me coming back for more. Even an inland move to the upper West Coast, where the 48° ocean was almost three hours away, could not dissuade me. I bought a thick wetsuit and made the trek on weekends whenever possible, which wasn’t often enough. Serious water time at a week-long surf camp in Costa Rica fueled the fire. Then nearly five years ago, I moved to NorCal, a mere 50 miles from the real Surf City, U.S.A., and began to surf regularly about twice a week, the most family and work commitments will allow. It’s close to the minimum needed to sustain my habit. If I’m out of the water for anything approaching a week, I start jonesin’ – needing a fix bad.
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