This morning I went body surfing. The water here in Mooloolaba is really murky, which – I’m told – is from the cyclone that passed through here recently. The swell seems to be dying off because yesterday there were surfers getting barreled, but today was only about chest high. It’s a fast break and close to shore, which makes it really nice for body surfing. When the wave kicks up quickly you can catch it with minimal effort, and I managed to catch more than my fare share.
The beach culture here is somewhere in between Brazil and Hawaii. There’s more skin than Hawaii, but fewer people than Brazil. There are more sun tanners and fewer tans than either.
I caught a wave just outside a group of girls. I cut hard to the right in order to avoid landing on them, but one girl was sure I was going to hit her. She dove to the side but her bikini top didn’t get the memo in time and she came back to the surface topless. I tried to apologize, but for some reason she wouldn’t turn to face me. Maybe it’s an Australian thing.
Matt Chrabot and Kevin Collington were here when I got back form the beach, so the rest of the day was spent catching up on all the Olympic Training Center gossip (Basically a review of the latest YouTube videos to be included in daily OTC culture – something about a pork sandwich?). I still haven’t figured out which way to look at an intersection, and I’ve resolved to both wait for green lights and look in all directions (twice) before entering an intersection (regardless of what the signal says).
Kevin and I rode up the hill from the beach and took photos of our conflicting nutrition sponsor cycling kits before he turned around (because he was out of energy) and left me to finish my ride alone.
(I’m sure having just gotten off a trans-pacific flight had nothing to do with Kevin turning back early)