“The Body That Survived: Learning to Surf Again After Cancer”

By Melanie Ezell

Melanie is a surfer, writer, and mother living on the North Shore of O‘ahu. In 2022, she was diagnosed with stage four ovarian cancer, a turning point that deepened her relationship with the ocean and with herself. Once a competitive athlete who battled an eating disorder and perfectionism, she now writes about healing, surrender, and the way surfing continues to teach her what it means to live fully in the face of uncertainty.

• How did your relationship with your body change after surviving cancer and stepping back into the ocean?

When I first stepped back into the ocean after cancer, I didn’t recognize the body that carried me there. It was softer in some places, missing in others. Scarred, swollen, burned. It felt foreign, like I was inhabiting a rental instead of a home.

Before cancer, my body was something to master. I trained it, disciplined it, pushed it to paddle harder, surf bigger, run faster. My worth lived in performance, how well I could control, sculpt, or outperform my own limits.

But after cancer, control was gone. My body had become the battlefield and the survivor, both. Every cell had carried me through something unspeakable. I couldn’t hate it anymore. I couldn’t punish it for being different. I had to learn to listen.

The first time I dove under a wave again, my arms trembled from atrophy. I sat in the channel and cried, but not from sadness. I cried because I was still out there. The ocean didn’t care that I’d lost my hair, my ovaries, my old strength. It met me exactly where I was, fragile, raw, alive.

That’s when everything shifted. I stopped moving against my body and started moving with it.
Surfing became less about dominance and more about dialogue. Each paddle stroke a conversation. Each wave a surrender.

Now, when I look down at my body, its scars, its fatigue, its proof of survival. I see power, not loss. I see a woman who has been burned to ash and returned to saltwater. I see the ocean reflected back at me, ever-changing, untamed, resilient beyond comprehension.

• Was there a specific moment when you realized you had fully reclaimed your strength and confidence?

I’ve had three occurrences of cancer and been through chemotherapy three times. In fact, I’m still in chemo now. When I was first diagnosed, I wondered if I’d ever surf a wave overhead again. I knew I was losing my ovaries—which, let’s be honest, is the female equivalent of castration, and I didn’t know if my body would ever bounce back from that. I didn’t plan on it.

Still, I surfed through chemo. My goal was to catch a double-overhead wave with a bald head. I got a few. It was always a balancing act between listening to my body and believing in myself.

After my first remission, I spent an entire summer training hard. When winter came, I didn’t know if I could trust my new body. But I did know how to rebuild that trust: big waves. Big waves had helped me trust my body once before, when I was recovering from an eating disorder, and I knew they would again. So I forced myself to paddle out, even when I was terrified. I repeated my mantra: “Trust your training. Trust your equipment.”

The moment that stands out was the night before The Eddie. The swell was building, scaffolding going up, spectators already gathering on the beach. I caught a wave that night and felt more powerful than I ever had before. I needed that wave. I needed to teach my mind that my body was still strong and capable.

When the cancer came back the following winter, I gave myself a pass on big waves. I decided to let my nervous system rest. I purposely grounded myself from anything over five feet. It was hard, but also, honestly, a relief.

Now, I’m on oral chemo that’s gentler on my body. I’ve been training like a madwoman. The body and mind are always in a feedback loop. My body feels strong and healthy, but my mind still remembers everything I’ve been through. I have doubts. So little by little, my body is teaching my mind to trust again. Giving up is not an option. I have to keep pushing myself to surf bigger, because I want to keep living. 

We all go through things that change us. We never come out the other side the same. I am both better and worse. But I’m learning to live in this “new normal,” to adapt, and to keep going.

• How does surfing big waves make you feel about your body today compared to how you used to see it?

If I’m fully honest, when I first started trying to surf big waves, it was still about my body.
I was using it to be seen, to stand out, to feel loved, to earn belonging. I wanted to be noticed for what I could do. There was so much ego in it.

It wasn’t so different from my eating disorder days, really. Back then, I believed that if I looked perfect, I’d be accepted. If I could control my body, I could control my worth.

But the ocean became my teacher.
And it humbled me, fast.

Pride really does come before the fall, and I fell. A lot. I got hurt. I had to quit more than once. But every time, my body came back for me. Like an injured player in the fourth quarter yelling, “Put me in, coach!” It kept adapting to whatever I put it through. It carried my grief, my fear, my stubborn will to keep going.

It wasn’t the waves I stood on that showed me my strength, it was the ones that held me under.
It wasn’t the photos or the likes that made me feel loved, it was the wipeouts, the hold-downs, the moments I had to save myself that gave me the most.

That’s where I learned what I know now:
I am resilient.
I am powerful.
I am capable.
I am worthy, just as I am.

• What message would you give to women who are struggling to love their bodies after illness or trauma?

First, I want to say, I get it.
When your body betrays you, or breaks, or changes in ways you never asked for, it’s hard not to see it as the enemy. You feel robbed of something: your control, your beauty, your innocence, your strength.

But your body is not your enemy. It’s your witness. It’s been there through everything, the heartbreaks, the hospital rooms, the nights you thought you wouldn’t make it. It never stopped showing up for you, even when you stopped showing up for it.

After cancer, I had to learn to stop demanding that my body look the way it used to, or perform the way it once could. I started thanking it instead. Thank you for getting me out of bed. Thank you for holding my son. Thank you for letting me feel the ocean again.

Healing isn’t about getting your old body back. It’s about building a new relationship with the one you have now. One that’s rooted in reverence, not resentment.

You don’t have to love every scar or stretch mark right away. Start with respect. Start with awe. Start by realizing that the same body you might criticize is the one that has carried you through hell and back.

Your body is not less because it’s been through something.
It’s more. It’s proof.

• When you look at yourself now, strong, healthy, and surfing massive waves, what goes through your mind?

Honestly, the first thing that comes to mind is how fleeting it all is.
Right now, I have the energy to train, to push, and my body is responding beautifully. But I’m also aware that odds are high I’ll need more aggressive treatment again soon. Odds are high that this disease could still kill me. So I try to hold all of this lightly.

It feels wonderful to be strong and vibrant again. I’m relishing every sprint, every breath hold, every kettlebell swing. And at the same time, I know none of us get to keep our strength forever. That’s what makes it so sweet, the knowing that it’s temporary.

Still, I believe my training is a big part of why I’ve made it this far. Waking up early and lifting weights when my body aches and my mind begs me to go back to bed isn’t easy, but that’s exactly why I do it. My body needs to know it can go through hell, through acute physical and mental stress, and not only survive, but come out stronger.

So I live in the space between two truths:
One, that this body is transient, and everything, health, strength, life itself, will eventually pass.
And two, that while I’m here, I’m going to fight like hell to hold on.

That choice isn’t right for everyone. But for me, the will to live is strong. I have a five-year-old who needs his mom.

And honestly, the waves are just too damn good to check out early.

If you’re going through something right now, and honestly, who isn’t? here’s what I’d say to you:

You don’t have to be a warrior. You don’t have to be strong. You’re allowed to fall apart. You’re allowed to close the curtains, turn on Netflix, order takeout, and let the world spin without you for a while.

Just do it with your eyes wide open. Be willing to feel the consequences of your choices, good or bad. Be willing to let emotions live in your body, to feel the ache, to let pain move through you. That pain is information. It shapes what comes next.

Make the best choice you can in this moment. Then learn from it, what it gave you, what it took from you.

I’ve sat in the darkness, fists raised, screaming at God.
I’ve eaten the whole tub of ice cream.
I’ve stayed in the relationship long enough to lose my mind.
But there I was, at dawn, still me, still breathing, still making the next best choice I could.

Whatever you’re going through, keep going.

Even the longest hold-down ends eventually, just keep trusting that the wave will let you up for air. And when it does, you’re going to be a whole lot stronger for it.

The Wave That Changed My Life

I've never considered myself a "professional big wave surfer," but last year I caught a wave at Todos Santos that won the Thriller at Killers big wave video contest. Catching that wave has changed my life! I flew back to Baja for an awards ceremony where Kelly Slater and Gary Linden presented the awards. We even got to get a surf session in. Even more importantly than the awards, that wave made me feel like I belonged in big wave lineups and gave me the confidence to further pursue my dreams. 

Overcoming Fear at Pe’ahi

I set one main goal for myself this season, catch a wave at Pe’ahi (Jaws). I said it in my head, out loud, and wrote it down. I visualized what it would look like and feel like. When the opportunity came I didn’t know if I could actually do it, fear started taking over.

I sat on my board in the lineup for over two hours. I started thinking to myself, maybe this isn’t for me. Maybe I’m not ready. And then my mindset shifted. I looked around and took in the beauty of the place. I was in the middle of the ocean with a front-row seat to a wave that is a wonder of the world, surrounded by towering cliffs, the sun warming my face. I closed my eyes and said a prayer for my Grandma who I’m afraid I might lose soon. Surfing big waves is scary, but it takes us out of the real fears in life and into the present moment.

I let go of my expectations of catching a wave and thanked the universe for giving me this moment. And of course, that’s when a wave came. It had the look I wanted and without a second thought, I turned and started paddling full force. I knew the motions and I went into autopilot, driving by feel. I felt that magic moment when you stop propelling yourself and the wave has you. I got to my feet, stuck my hand in the wave for balance, and flew down the wave. All I could think was “you did it, you’re on a wave at Pe’ahi!” It was the loudest wave I’ve ever heard, the lip sounded like it was crashing into pavement. It was also one of the most beautiful waves I’ve seen, clear, blue water, moving in perfectly timed choreography.

I tried to hold my line but I had dropped too far down the wave and I knew I was too deep. I prepared myself for impact. The lip caught up to me and blasted me like someone flicking an ant off the table. I didn’t care though, I was so happy and full of adrenaline that I happily went for a ride in the whitewater.

I felt like everything I worked for came together for that one wave. The last and most important ingredient was surrendering to the moment and overcoming fear. Achieving my goal was the best feeling and I still can’t believe it happened.

We Towed Pe’ahi For The First Time

Our first-time tow-surfing Peahi (Jaws).

It was small for Peahi but perfect for us to learn the wave.

We trained for a solid 4 hours with Peahi Hui.

Now we are confident that we can return for the next swell and surf it a few feet bigger.

Peahi is always intimidating no matter the size so our plan is to take it slowly and increase size gradually!

Thanks, Daniel for the tips and the knowledge, we had a blast.

If you want to see the full story please go to our NEW YouTube channel and don’t forget to subscribe! We’ll be dropping videos every time we go on an adventure!

Lessons from Nazare

I believe that one of the most significant markers of emotional intelligence is having a flexible mind. The ability to accept that things might not happen the way you wished for, but trusting that everything happens the way it's meant to be. 

But learning to accept the flow of life fully is easier said than done. 

Going to Nazare taught me these lessons. Nazare is a very special place, rich in history. It is located on the coast of Portugal, a few hours away from Lisbon. The mix of the fishing culture, the European low-key lifestyle, and the occasional hundred-foot waves make the place very unique.

Every time I come to Nazare, time slows down. For some reason, I am fully present and completely immersed in the place. There is something about the energy of the place that either captivates you and lures you in or kicks you out.

In my case, I got lured in, and as I dug deeper into the essence of Nazare, I was forced to dig deeper into myself. The lessons I’ve learned there are so clear and vivid that there is no way of denying the message behind them.

I feel like my Nazare experience is almost mystical as if I went there not to surf big waves, but to understand things about myself. 

Last year, my lesson was given to me by the ruthless shorebreak. I battled the shorebreak every morning in order to make it to the surf. I cried and got denied multiple times.

During my last days there, I understood it was never me against the shorebreak. It was me against my mind and my fears. The shorebreak was the medium for me to understand the lesson. 

After that humbling experience, a new fire was ignited in me. My love for big wave surfing was back. 

At some point in my surfing career, I started thinking I was a fake. I wasn’t sure about my motives and my desire with big wave surfing. But, after battling that cold shorebreak every morning, I knew there was no chance any fake person could have endured that torture. 

This year, I wanted to focus on tow surfing, and I had the opportunity to use my sponsor's jet skis and train with a driver. ,

I planned this trip for over a year, and yet nothing happened according to the plan. The entire time was forced to adapt to new, unpredictable situations.

Two days after I arrived, there was going to be a huge swell. The afternoon before the big swell arrived, I was testing my equipment and practicing with my driver. I had a terrible first session. I was not sure about my equipment, and I was not connecting with my driver, which is a recipe for disaster.

The training ended quickly, and I left the water feeling overwhelmed about the big day. 

I lost all my confidence and had to change my plan quickly. 

The driver and surfer connection is the most important relationship you will ever have in tow- surfing. Not only do you trust each other with your life, but the synchronicity between the two of you is a must. It’s a relationship, the best way I can explain it is unconditional love.

After that session, I knew my driver and I weren’t a match for each other. I cried in the sand and decided to see the bright side of the situation. It took us twenty minutes to figure out we were not a good match. I had lost nothing but my expectations.

This situation is very common in Nazare, and many partners and even lovers decide to work with different people. It is very understandable as there is so much pressure and so much adrenaline to manage, especially when you enter the world of elite big-wave surfing.

Now, I had six hours to process the turn of events and make a new plan. I realized maybe the purpose of this person appearing in my life was not to be my forever driver but to give me the confidence to enter this crazy world and maybe one day become an elite driver myself. 

I stopped crying and said thank you to this person and held him with love and respect in my heart because if it weren’t for this person, I would have never made it to Nazare.

And that's when the plot twist happened. 

I got the opportunity to train with “Alemao de Maresias,” one of the best drivers of all time (according to every elite driver). And a new journey began. 

He wasn’t my first choice, because he is a very busy man and I wasn’t his choice at all. 

Who wants the responsibility of showing a beginner how to drive and tow surf in huge waves? 

But, slowly but surely, I think I won his heart. 

The lessons didn’t end there. 

I encountered so many difficulties but decided to focus on the positives overall. It is extremely rare that a person with no knowledge gets to be part of an elite team in Nazare, and it's even more rare that I got to have jet skis to use. 

I knew I had to remember this entire experience was something that was being lent to me. That helped me keep a very grateful heart during my whole experience. 

Most of the days, my driver could only take me out to practice in the most challenging conditions. But in every single one of those sessions, there was a beautiful, amazing wave waiting for me. 

On the last day of my training, I thought I showed up late and was very sad because I knew the waves were perfect and I was missing out. But I was right on time for my wave to come. I surfed probably one of the best waves I had ever gotten in my life, and then I understood these two things.

First, not everyone walks in your life to stay forever. Most people are just passing by. But everyone who crosses paths with you has a valuable lesson for you to learn. The hard part is understanding what the lesson is and what you can learn from it.

Second, expectation is a great enemy created by the mind. There is not a good time or a wrong time, things happen when they are meant to happen. And in most cases, great things happen when you least expect it.

How I Became a Big Wave Surfer

The first time I saw a big wave was when I was 13 years old. I had only just started surfing and was a weekend warrior because I lived two hours away from the nearest beach in Guatemala.

One day, my surfer friends and I got together to watch the Billabong XXL awards. I was mesmerized because I didn't know waves that big existed. One of my friends asked if any of us would ever surf waves like that. I was the only one that said yes with conviction.

I said to my friends, if I had the chance to surf one of those waves, I would do it. I didn't care about making it, I would at least try. Everyone laughed at me and didn't take me seriously. But that day, watching those big waves on TV, I had already surfed my first big wave in my mind. I imagined I was there, at the top of a wave, confronted with the decision of going for it, or letting it go. Every time I paddled and I went.

My big wave journey began that day. But, it would take me ten more years to actually surf my first big wave.

That day came in 2015. It was a beautiful winter day and the first big swell of the season had just arrived on the North Shore of Oahu. I woke up very early and did my morning ritual. I could hear the big waves crashing on the sand by my house.

The plan was to surf Waimea Bay. Waimea Bay is one of the most legendary big waves on the planet. I have always loved Waimea Bay, but I knew there were going to be over a hundred surfers that day, all of them hungry for waves.

Waimea is a special and scary wave. It is the only big wave where you are allowed to drop in on people. ‘Dropping in,’means that many surfers can ride the same wave at the same time.

This makes Waimea a dangerous place. There are a lot of surfers with ten-foot boards, taking off very close to each other. There are always obstacles in the way, like broken boards and surfers caught inside. Even just making it past the deadly shorebreak is a feat. To make it even scarier, hundreds of people are watching the spectacle from land. Photographers and videographers film every ride and every wipeout.

All of this makes Waimea Bay a modern-day gladiator arena. I always knew it would either make me or break me.

After watching all morning I finally decided to go surfing. I convinced myself that the waves were not that big by saying, “it’s not that big,” out loud. I said it so many times that the waves didn’t seem that big anymore.

When I arrived at the water's edge, the other surfers, cameras, and the size of the waves didn’t matter anymore. I entered the ocean with one mission, to surf the biggest wave I could possibly get.

I had been starting to get bigger waves at this point in my life, but also I was falling a lot. My mind was ready, but my body would not handle a big drop sometimes. Most of the time, I ended up falling on the face of the wave.

That day, I remember paddling out and making it to the lineup without getting my hair wet. I said to myself, the first challenge has been completed successfully. Then I saw a big set approaching. I started paddling with everything I had. I felt the inertia of the moment and there I was, surfing my first real big wave at Waimea Bay. I'm never going to forget that feeling.

After a long day of surfing, I came back to my house, opened my Facebook, and noticed that the photographers tagged me in all my waves. It all felt like a dream. I saw myself on the big waves I had seen on TV all those years ago.

I couldn't sleep well that night because I had too much adrenaline in my system. I knew I had crossed a personal line. Finally, after all these years, my body listened to me and performed well under stress. That night, I prayed sincerely to God. I asked God to always keep me protected, true to myself, and most importantly humble.

I was about to learn that big wave surfing is not a straight path. It is more like a wave itself with ups and downs. And that part when I wished to stay humble was a lifelong granted wish.

To be continued….(The Wound is Where the Light Enters)

10 Seconds at Todos Santos

The time spent riding big waves is seconds, but those seconds last a lifetime. Years of experience, hours looking at forecasts, preparation, and training, all add up to that one moment when everything finally comes together.

One wave and 10 seconds I will remember forever happened on January 13, 2023. But let’s rewind a little bit first.

My 2022/23 big wave season had gotten off to a rather slow start. A few waveless sessions and missed swells had made my confidence start to fade.

Now it was January, and I was in San Diego for work. I was doing my best to not think about the large swell hitting Hawaii. But then I realized, that same swell was going to track its way to Todos Santos, just a couple hours from where I was.

I immediately started putting a plan together like a spy on a secret mission. The problem was, all my big wave gear was in San Francisco and I didn’t have time to go get it. I began calling all my friends to see who would be crazy enough to bring my gear and come with me to the little island off the coast of Baja for what I hoped would be good waves. Luckily, I have surrounded myself with like-minded people, and my friend Laura was down for the cause. Laura loves shooting big waves and happened to have nothing better to do that weekend. I also convinced my boyfriend (now fiancé), Jake, to hop on the red-eye from Oahu and join the strike mission.

We all met at 3:00 a.m. at Laura’s friend, Francisco’s house in San Diego. Francisco had also somehow gotten roped into the journey and was now our official driver. He drove like an Italian F1 racer and got us to the Ensenada harbor just as the sun was coming up.

Arriving at any big wave spot, the anticipation of what you will find is always high. Boating up to a wave heightens that anticipation. You try to calculate the size of the waves by how big the swell lines you’re crashing over are. The entire 30-minute or so boat ride, all I was thinking was, this is my day, I can feel it. But at the same time, I didn’t have any expectations or pressure. I had a calm sense of knowing that if I were meant to get a wave today, the ocean would give me one.

We finally got our first look at the wave, and it did not disappoint. A set was rolling through the lineup, the iconic emerald-green water looking as if it was illuminated as it hit the ledge and threw a thick barrel. As we got closer, I could see it wasn’t that crowded, but nearly every person in the lineup was a big wave legend. Greg and Rusty Long, Peter and John Mell, Kohl Christensen, Paige Alms, Felicity Pallmater, and Ian Walsh. All people who I’ve had pictures of on my wall and have idolized.

One of the things I love about big wave surfing is how humble, down-to-earth, and just plain cool big wave surfers are. Sure, big wave surfing has turned into somewhat of a circus at times, but the true, soul surfers are out there to have a good time, share waves, and go home safe. I’ve been lucky enough to become friends with and learn from people like Greg and Rusty, and being able to share the lineup with them is something I greatly value.

I felt like the little kid who was invited to the big kid’s table that day. I wanted to make sure I waited my turn and didn’t get in anyone’s way. After sitting and observing the lineup for about an hour, I saw a set approaching. I paddle outside but forced myself to not completely run away. The first wave rolled under me. I watched as it broke just inside of where I was sitting and thought, I could have caught that.

Then the next wave came. It looked similar to the first, so I knew I could catch it. I swung around, and to my surprise, no one else tried to go. I was already head-down paddling when the people next to me had turned around. I had zeroed in on that wave like a hunter taking a shot. I knew I was going to get it, and it was going to be a good one.

I took what felt like two paddles and felt my board start to take off. It was one of those, ‘hand of God’ moments where you feel like somebody gave you a little extra push. I popped up, and the first thought that came to my mind was, “I’m doing it, I finally got a wave!” It felt amazing, I was flying down a mountain of water, suspended in time.

I had never ridden a wave this big, and I was going fast, really fast. I had so much speed I couldn’t make the bottom turn I needed in order to exit stage right in time. I saw the lip looming above my head. I’m not sure if I jumped off my board out of a fight or flight reaction, or if I was knocked off by hitting a chop, but either way, I found myself underwater.

I often fear big wipeouts, but the funny thing is when they actually happen, the fear goes away, and I go into survival mode. My body relaxes, and I know I just need to ride out the underwater rollercoaster.

On this wipeout, I was scared I would be pushed deep, so I pulled my inflation vest. I immediately turned into a beach ball and bounced along with the whitewater. It carried me for a long time, but I knew I was close to the surface and would be let up eventually.

I finally burst through the bubbles and got a sip of air. I was ok. All limbs attached, no scratches. I had drifted so far that I was almost at the rocky shore of the island. Thankfully, I heard the buzz of a jet ski and looked over to see Kohl Christensen zooming in to swoop me up. I scrambled on the sled as he yelled, “That was insane!” All I could think was if Kohl was saying that was insane, what just happened?

He brought me back to my boat, where Jake, Laura, and Francisco were waving their arms and cheering. I felt like an astronaut returning from the moon. Laura passed me her camera with the shots of my wave on the screen. I couldn’t believe the person I was looking at was me. I knew the wave was big when I was riding it, but I had no idea it was that big.

I had so much adrenaline going all I could do was put my hands on my head in disbelief and smile. I’ve gotten “big waves” before, but this was truly a big wave. The one I’ve been waiting for. All the years of surfing, all the hours spent studying videos, all the training and preparation, everything came together for those 10 seconds on that wave. A wave I will remember for the rest of my life.

Black Friday at The Bay

I woke up at 2am to my house shaking. “Earthquake!” I exclaimed to my sleeping Fiancé. “Babe, we’re on an island I don’t think there are earthquakes here,” he said as he fell back asleep. He was right, it wasn’t an earthquake, it was waves, crashing onto the shore so violently they were shaking our little house.

We drove down to Waimea Bay in the pre-dawn light and saw the ocean had been reclaiming the road all night. Sand covered Kamehameha Highway, and bits of coral heads and debris were strewn about.

When we arrived at the bay, a crowd had already gathered behind the caution tape lifeguards had laid on the beach. Everyone was watching one brave soul who had paddled out solo in the dark. It only took one closeout set to confirm what I was nervous about. It was “Eddie size,” meaning the prestigious Eddie Aikau Invitational could have run on a day like today.

I had almost written off surfing for the day, but then Polly showed up. “We’re going out!” she said with zero doubt in her voice. Her confidence gave me a boost of encouragement, but I still wasn’t sure. I had never surfed a day like this at the bay.

We timed a lull to see how long we had to paddle out before getting swept into the infamous shore pound. 5 minutes. Doable, but only with impeccable timing.

Polly led the charge and paddled out safely. Jake and slowly suited up and decided to wait on the beach until we felt ready. After about 30 minutes, we finally decided it was time to take the plunge.

We ran into the water and started sprint-paddling to the safe zone. My heart was pounding, and I was focused on my breathing. 5 minutes, you can do it, I kept telling myself.

We timed it perfectly. No waves on the head and we made it safely to the lineup just as the next set was forming. Arriving to the lineup was like walking through the door of a speakeasy. There was a whole party going on in the water, invisible from the beach. Vibes were high as those who had braved the paddle were now hooting each other into perfect, big waves.

I played it safe. I knew there were closeout sets and didn’t want to get caught in the spaghetti tangle of 10-foot boards and leashes.

After a couple of hours, I moved into position. A wave came my way, and I paddled. It was a smaller one for that day, and I was on the shoulder, but it was a wave. I kicked out in the channel, saw the coast was clear, and decided to head to shore before I pushed my luck too much.

I might not have gotten the wave I was hoping for that day, but paddling out, learning the lineup, and coming in safe on an Eddie-sized day felt like a huge accomplishment.