This series depicts Jersey Shore lifeguard tournaments, a summer tradition in which I participated as a youth. The races - usually some combination of swimming, rowing, paddling, and running - embody a quality of toughness, of grit, of skill as a waterman and an athlete, that young men particularly seek to emulate. As a lifeguard, it’s a way to prove oneself, to become one of the elite, to high-five one’s teammates over illegally consumed beers, and become one of those hallowed names that adorns plaques and building facades years later. But that glory comes with risks. Last summer, a 16-year-old rookie lifeguard was tragically killed when his boat flipped. Helmets are permitted while rowing, but very rarely used. I remember one tournament in which helmets were required of all rowers. That mandate was bitterly lampooned. “Helmets are lettuce!!” (“Lettuce” - meaning uncool - was argot coined by my beach patrol.)
Lifeguarding wasn’t always comfortable for me, particularly as a woman. But overall, I enjoyed the challenges, both physical and social, required to navigate that world. From the morning workouts, onerous at first, I gained a lifelong love of beach running. I tentatively learned to surf, something which I never would have previously attempted. Lifeguard friends dragged me to my first rock concert. I experienced my first wild parties. I loved guarding, and I tried hard to show that I could fit into that world as well or better than any male. I tried a bit too hard at times.