Weeks 11 & 12 - by Emma Eisenhauer - Gapping & Yapping

I felt the board’s raw, splintery edge slipping from my grip. With each rep getting slower and more difficult, I fought the urge to take a break. I pushed my feet down hard on my bike’s peddles, knowing it would be even more exhausting to stop and start again. Using my one free hand to stabilize my handlebars, I wobbled with each motorcycle, tuk tuk, pickup truck, and garbage vehicle that flew by me. This is NOT like riding to the beach in New Jersey with a surfboard, I concluded. As I reached the top of the first hill, I looked to my left out over all of Lago Atitlan. It was the prettiest sunset I had seen in my four weeks of living here. Unlike the past week of Hurricane Beryl rain, the sky was clear. The clouds hovered at the tip of each of the three volcanoes, and the aqua water reflected the orange sun in a pink & purple glow. I picked up some speed on the downhill, pulling the awkwardness of the board closer to my body each time the wind tried to push it away. I turned my gaze to

I felt the board’s raw, splintery edge slipping from my grip. With each rep getting slower and more difficult, I fought the urge to take a break. I pushed my feet down hard on my bike’s peddles, knowing it would be even more exhausting to stop and start again. Using my one free hand to stabilize my handlebars, I wobbled with each motorcycle, tuk tuk, pickup truck, and garbage vehicle that flew by me. This is NOT like riding to the beach in New Jersey with a surfboard, I concluded. As I reached the top of the first hill, I looked to my left out over all of Lago Atitlan. It was the prettiest sun