The sunny beach of Coronado was a cunning monster that deceived all of the tourist’s eyes that passed through during the winter months. Vacationers from all over the world traveled to Coronado for it 's beautiful waters and tourist attractions. But just behind the beauty that was seen by all, lied an unforgiving beast that took the hearts and souls of many young men including myself. For years, paddles have been washing up along the shoreline of Coronado as if it was spitting up it 's trophies from the day before. A little further down the south end of the beach, white t-shirts could be found buried randomly, but no one really understands what it all means. These tourists don 't realize they are only a few yards away from something amazing.
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Salt water was filling my sinuses while the sand was taking claim of my eyes, almost as if they were working together as some sort of demonic tag team. I was looking left and right for some motivation from “brothers”, but I was dumbfounded at what I saw, it was terrifying. I saw grown men passed out, lifeless from the cold, a few were coughing up blood, and my best friend was spitting out pieces of his teeth from shivering so intensly. Every second, the chilled water was stabbing it’s icy dagger through the bones in my legs, but before I could think about the pain, we were moving. “GET SANDY AND GET YOUR LOGS”, my heart sank, weighing me down as I rolled in softest sand in the world, making sure I was completely covered. My legs were refusing to cooperate, but I pushed up to my feet and limped to my buddies waiting for me at the logs. Once I made it, my boat crew grabbed the first log available, hooking our arms underneath, trying to grasp it’s round surface with our numb fingers. Directly after we got the log on our shoulders, we all knew something was wrong. The log was a “goon squad” log, a log that was 50 pounds heavier than the others and was meant as remediation for the less than liked boat crews. Our legs were shaking as we moved to the O-Course to begin. The only solace I found was the sun trying to break through the ocean floor as we walked over the berm, all I thought about was being warm. But no amount of solace would’ve helped us, everyone in my boat crew knew this was about to be the most brutal log pt we’d ever
Salt water was filling my sinuses while the sand was taking claim of my eyes, almost as if they were working together as some sort of demonic tag team. I was looking left and right for some motivation from “brothers”, but I was dumbfounded at what I saw, it was terrifying. I saw grown men passed out, lifeless from the cold, a few were coughing up blood, and my best friend was spitting out pieces of his teeth from shivering so intensly. Every second, the chilled water was stabbing it’s icy dagger through the bones in my legs, but before I could think about the pain, we were moving. “GET SANDY AND GET YOUR LOGS”, my heart sank, weighing me down as I rolled in softest sand in the world, making sure I was completely covered. My legs were refusing to cooperate, but I pushed up to my feet and limped to my buddies waiting for me at the logs. Once I made it, my boat crew grabbed the first log available, hooking our arms underneath, trying to grasp it’s round surface with our numb fingers. Directly after we got the log on our shoulders, we all knew something was wrong. The log was a “goon squad” log, a log that was 50 pounds heavier than the others and was meant as remediation for the less than liked boat crews. Our legs were shaking as we moved to the O-Course to begin. The only solace I found was the sun trying to break through the ocean floor as we walked over the berm, all I thought about was being warm. But no amount of solace would’ve helped us, everyone in my boat crew knew this was about to be the most brutal log pt we’d ever