PINCHED NERVE, THU 22NOV2012 MOR

Loc: HB

Time: 0800-1040

Crew: Randy

Conditions: 4-6 FT, glassy, cool, overcast, inconsistent, CROWDED.

     I sit here with my fucked up back, writing this. No Thanksgiving for me. Just me and the dog and leftover spaghetti. Here it goes. . . .

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     I looked forward to this day. Finally, I’d get to show my brother that I’ve improved since Bali. The swell forecast was good for today. I had the hidden plan to get my first legit barrel in front him, or at least try to. But try, try, try—I needed at least a HEROIC attempt of epic proportions. . . .

     I picked him up at 0730. I used Francis’ loaner 4/3 Excel, and Randy used my old 3.5/2.5 O’Neill Psycho.

     Once we got to the sand, we saw how crowded it was. All throughout the line-up, black dots everywhere. River Jetties was insane. Guys were pulling-in getting dry-barreled, in there for a good three seconds. The peaks were big, clean, defined, fast, and scary. To me they were. I haven’t surfed HB this big . . . ever.

     Still, I was stoked. I felt like I was in pretty good shape, except . . . my back felt a little tight from yesterday.

     I wanted to show Randy that my paddle improved. Sure enough, we made it out in the same amount of time. I kept up with him, which was a plus.

     A bomb left came my way. I was deep. I passed it. Fuck it. If I’m gonna “go,” I need good positioning. My first wave was a left. I pulled-in, but it closed out. My second wave was a right. The drop was so steep that it gave me so much momentum. My back hand turns were so fluid and fast that I was surprised I held on. Two turns off the lip, tossing out a little water, hopefully more than the water I heard. I fell on the third turn. I looked at my bro as I paddled back. No acknowledgement, but it was understandable. Turns are cheap. To him they are. And . . . for me too. When I’m with Randy, I know that I need to get barreled to be worth a nod.

     Guys were going for bombs, unbelievable bombs, popping-up and dropping-in with casual ease. I thought about Gerry Lopez. What the fuck makes a guy so casual in critical waves?

     Randy went for a bomb right. I was in perfect view. He’s goofy-foot, so I watched him pop-up, hunch-down, grab rail, and feel the face with his rear hand. The wave didn’t go hollow, but he was setting up, watching, waiting for it too.

     The next left I caught wasn’t even a bomb, but I went for it; it had a shoulder. It was closing out, so I dove into the base of the wave, nice and low for an easy escape. On this non technical, non critical wave I got twisted around in such an awkward fashion that when I resurfaced I was not the same. I felt a sharp pain shoot from the middle of my back to my neck when I reached for me board. I duckdived the next wave. At least my duckdives are good now, but my paddle was labored. I grimaced, hoping I could shake it off, but I had a feeling . . . my session was over.

     I tried to work through it, but it was hard. Paddling and turning my head incited that shooting, sensation into the middle of my back. On the day that I was going to “show and prove,” perhaps put on at least a ballsy performance to go all-out in my brother’s honor . . . I was useless after the fall.

     I looked over and saw Randy rubbing the back of his fingernails together. “Where’d you learn that from?” I asked.

     He laughed. “Your blog!”

     I laugh back. “Yeah,” I said. “I wish you would’ve got to meet Francis. Coolest guy ever.”

     I went for a bomb. A legit bomb. I knew it was legit because the guys on my inside were watching to see if I’d pull out. It was a right, which is bad because I feel uncomfortable practicing barrels on my backhand. The drop was so steep that I couldn’t avoid the nose from going under. I purled, but when I resurfaced I was all right. It was my PADDLE that caused me pain.

     Randy was having a hard time in the crowd. Surfing less crowded spots has thrown him off from this packed, SoCal scene. None-the-less, he still got waves, going for the barrels. Let me rephrase that: Only catching waves with the full intention of pulling-in.

     I caught at least three more rights on non-hollow waves, but still, they were so fast that my turns were snappy. On my very last right, I bottom turned to set up for a hack off the lip, but it started to throw-out. Everything happened so fast. I thought the section was walled. I wiped out. On the sand Randy said, “If you would’ve pig-dogged, you would’ve got barreled.”

     I’m just not “there” yet, but worst of all was how I fucked up my back. Now I’m at home. After ibuprofen and two different muscle relaxers, I still can’t move without pain; I’m stiff as shit.

     So . . . what the fuck did I learn from all this? All this stagnation, sitting around and doing homework, this inactivity has been bad for my body. I also need to stretch after surfing, also have better warm-ups prior to. Third . . . I NEED to start doing Yoga. I might be out from surfing this whole weekend. Sucks. Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving from me and Smokey.