Running to stand still
‘Do you ever wonder why we're here?’ asked Douglas, during a wintry weekend in Wales. But looking at him, clad only in rubber, I could only shrug my shoulders and run into the ocean. Surfing is an odd sport. Like many outdoor activities it gets you nowhere fast. But unlike some sports that at least offer a means of transport, surfing is completely and utterly futile-the invention of someone with not only nothing to do, but nothing to do it with except a big plank. The physical equivalent of posting a self addressed letter, and then when the postman delivers it, returning it to the sender. And all the while wearing a silly rubber suit.
The theory of surfing is simple: paddle out to sea, through the shallows where the waves have built up and broken, to the place where the swell has yet to feel the sloping seabed. Sit