Maybe it’s from years of pseudo-competitive sport, but every time I meet a new coach, I really want them to think I am the greatest thing since sliced bread. This rarely happens, so it’s no surprise that our coach in J-Bay thinks I am worse than nuclear warfare and the black plague. Combined.
Since we’re such a big group, we split up for our lessons and I am in group two. Group one had their lesson first, and since we had nothing to do but wait, we decided to go to the next break over for a surf. A two-hour pre-lesson surf was probably a terrible call. When it came to our lesson, my arms were jello, my balance was off and I was a grumpy mess of a student. Fail.