Kauai's Bethany Hamilton, who at 13 years old lost her arm in a brutal attack by a tiger shark, has since battled back to competition in a staggering display of courage and faith. Along with that came signature perfumes and sandals and a bestselling book...and now a feature length film. The film, Soul Surfer, starring Anna Sophia Robb, Dennis Quaid, Helen Hunt, and Carrie Underwood, chronicles Hamilton's life before and after the tragedy. Granted, Bethany's story is unique and inspiring, but it seems that surfing is stepping ever so closely to the saturation point. Hollywood A-listers like Quaid portraying Hanalei locals? There has always been a chasm between two surfing states of mind. In one camp, surfers want our art to be a "legitimate" sport ala golf with big salaries and a high profile. But the opposing attitude is one that hopes surfing stays off the grid, maybe a bit too scary and sexy for your average citizen. So far, Hollywood hasn't gotten it right. Surfer Dude may have been the anti-establishment surfer's best friend (because it made surfing look so stupid), but Surf's Up came eerily close with Jeff Bridge's mellow shaping legend character sporting some spot-on verbiage. This tug-of-war is nothing new. In fact, Miki Dora even fought the war within himself. He poetically touted the life of soul riding while selling signature surfboards and doing surf-stunt work for Hollywood flicks. No doubt, every surfer would love to do something in the industry to make a living, but for more opportunity, the industry has to get bigger. That's what' is happening. Our sport is slowly spreading its influence further inland and further into the "real world"...or is it the other way around? Either way, the edges are blurring and surfing is on the lips of even the most secular. With groundwork laid by Fred Hemmings ( a U.S. senator no less), Ian Cairns (expanding the sphere of pro surfing), Kelly Slater (I think you know), Laird Hamilton (selling his persona to the corporate non-surfing realm), and now Bethany Hamilton, surfing very well may have broken through all the way to the other side. But is that what we really want?

Spending this summer "surfing" the Internet will give nothing but flabby arms and big old love handles, but surfing waves offers so much more. Surfing is so fun that many people overlook its great health benefits, but you'd be hard pressed to find a better (and more enjoyable) cross-training exercise for athletes of all ability levels. Surfing is essentially a blend of swimming, balance training, and jumping rope (with a splash of riding a roller coaster). Surfing offers many health benefits. I think you'll be surprised.

Lastly, surfing brings together the mind and body and nature. Saltwater cleans the sinuses; sunshine helps the body create vitamin D, and riding a wave makes you feel gooooood. Surfing is without a doubt a healthy habit.

The surf is abating and I know it's time get some writing done. Days prior, as the swell grew and the wind blew, I scanned the lineup for material when Blam! I hit pay dirt while sharing the waves with some young kids I know. I marveled at their seemingly uncontrollable need to explain every detail of every ride they got. I mean it wasn't 30 seconds before these guys were reviewing the last air or barrel in excruciating minutia. I laughed and cringed as I was held rapt by each surfer's spin on his own daring and expertise. At one point I paddled frantically from the peak just to get some quiet time, but to my chagrin several of them followed with only intent to share their tales of greatness. I was becoming frustrated thinking why just the experience of a good wave can't be enough. Right? Smile and relive the memory in private.

Full disclosure: All surfers hope someone saw that last great ride. That's just science.

However, to replay the event to those who missed it and especially to those who didn't ask can be downright painful.  And even the greatest wave stories can be brutal. One of the most audacious surf story tellers I've ever known was a character from the Northeast (who shall herein remain nameless). He was amazing in that he would hold you captive with his exploits from drop in to kick out. You could almost feel the spray in your face and the touch the curvature of the barrel (not that he necessarily lived up to his tales of grandeur), but while his surfing wasn't classy, his stories were classic. He would have been the scribe in his village some 1000 years prior no doubt.

But it was the moment when I rode by on the Circle Island bus with my headphones on when I saw this wordsmith spinning one of his yarns with hands gyrating and eyes wide with verbs that shredded across the imagination and adjectives that could tie-die the blackness of the mind. But it wasn't his story that caught me but rather his audience. He stood in the middle of two guys, still dripping wet from the ocean, board tucked under his arm, wide stanced as if in survival mode dropping in at Backdoor and his other hand swirling the motion of a giant lip falling and blocking out the sun above his head. He crouched down in fear of the imaginary cascade. To his left, perched motionless on a bike, was Mark Ochilupo. And to his right, Tom Carroll sat in his parked car with mouth agape. Both held captive under words which seem to have no space between them leaving no moment for escape or change of subject.  It was a classic situation in which surfers find themselves every day and ratings points or legendary status didn't matter. Some surfers love to share their stories even when their listeners are obviously trying desperately to escape. It brought me back to the kids going on ad nauseum about their immense skill and bravery in the face of danger. I laughed on the way home and thought of how I would dissect their unchecked self-congratulations. That is, until my thoughts drifted to this insane left I got and how it lined up for like 50 yards. I swear. No exaggeration! It was way overhead and I barely made the drop and just hooked it under the lip for a super long barrel. Did I mention that it was way better before you got out? Seriously, dude, you missed it.

Okay, maybe, there is a part of us that needs to tell about our last ride. I'd like to think it's more about re-living the experience one more time or sharing our stoke. But probably, it's just some uniquely human need to let others know how awesome you are.   

I just came across Dr. Tony Butt's short piece on the importance of waves. I'm digging the whole thing. He hits on the obvious bits of how we love to ride waves and "steal" from them and essentially use them for our own pleasure, but waves are not meaningless lumps sent for our wanton desires. Instead, Dr Butt waxes scientific in his description of the wave's true meaning. A wave is a conductor of energy, a shaper of coasts, and one inescapable sprocket in the delicate chaos that is nature. Very cool Doc. Waves are unique snowflakes but many (e.g. Pipe, Teahupo, Mavericks) are instantly identifiable in their menacing personality and beautiful curves that are shaped by sharp reefs and craggy rocks from the amorphous blob of salt water pulsing above. No doubt, Dr. Butt's little piece is the muse for this blog and should push us all to think about the limited life span that waves, beaches and nature in general hold in this world. Gone are many classic spots, killed by chemicals and dredging and jetties and high rise apartments. While everything tangible is limited, sometimes the intangible leaves us as well. The energy of waves that drives us from within and makes us feel young and excited seems an endless supply, but someday it will run out (and so will the medium through which it moves). Enjoy them while they last and enjoy them while YOU last because it's all finite.