![]() ![]() The British team watched, all together, from the glass-panelled hotel and apparently gasped at how often we almost fell, how strenuous it was. ![]() Myself and another wobbly trike racer plotted together and decided to hold each other up to make it over the sand to touch the water. I felt this need to be at sea, free of the strict competition environment. Once, I got in trouble at a Cycling World Cup by the Belgian coastline in Ostend. Looking back, there’s a certain part of my brain that has needed water all along. Blue spaces were something I only saw from afar and which I longed for. I would often stop and look up into leaf canopies, hug trees, bury my face in grass. I used to be a Paralympic trike racer and I’d get a lot of time in green spaces training, if they had roads through them. So, when I am not with a fully equipped surf school, accessing the coast in the UK means I’m left to look on from the nearest tarmac path. Most mobility aids are not made with sand in mind, just like my scooter. Still, I use a car or mobility scooter to prevent constant bodily harm. It’s why I love water, even the washing machine spin cycle in huge waves is preferable to skin-ripping tarmac. To be fair, I have been known to fall on perfectly flat concrete. All parts of your average coastline are barriers: rocky beaches, soft sand, hills and the distance between car park and shoreline too. My cerebral palsy affects all of the muscles in my body and, as an added bonus, my balance. So, this article, mostly written in desperation, is written from the perspective of a girl with cerebral palsy who has driven around almost every coast, trying to access the surf. Full disclosure: I’m trying to become the UK’s first female prone surfing World Champion. ![]()
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