By Caroline Paul
One day I decided I wanted to be good at surfing. I was 49.
It wasn’t the best use of my time, energy, or ego. But, what the hell. I loved being pinballed by the waves. I loved the dolphins that often cruised by. I loved the pelicans, dipping toward the incoming swell to catch its lift, millimetres off the water, graceful, calm. Was it pity or disinterest, that glance they gave me as they passed and I attempted to lurch to my feet?
And I loved the actual surfing, thos...
