YOUR BOY IS BACK

0ct. 3^rd, 2019: The Good News…

Good for who, I don’t know. No…I’m here writing again, so here it goes. After being sick for about a week, I’ve felt like ass. Inactivity, sitting around sucking soup and tea, and simply not surfing or exercising just made me feel weaker overall. This morning, marking my first day that I felt well enough to surf, I finally went for a surf check on the second shift.

            Dawn patrol would’ve been first shift, but I get off work too late for that. Slightly dizzy from last night’s NyQuil, I watched my wife leave the apartment at about 0740, sipped my coffee, took a shit, and then hit the door.

            The weather was absolutely gorgeous: clear skies, offshore wind, clean and groomed ocean lines, and a weak weekday crowd (I hate crowds). I debated on my favorite free parking area for Porto but instead chose to part near Rosecrans at the end of the lot.

            The surf was overall small and breaking close to shore. I missed the early morning window with the lower tide, but even with it rising, occasional peaks sprouted, offering shoulders for some short rides.

            At first I debated on “fishing it” but decided on the Catch Surf Skipper, which has been my ultimate board choice as of late. It’s awesome in sub stellar conditions and still fun when the surf is good, just don’t expect any hard rail-to-rail carves.

            I put on the full suit to ease my way back into the surfing norm, especially since I’m getting over the flu/cold (not sure). Instantly when my face submerged with my first duckdive, I felt like my day had a purpose; my day is not wasted. That was my mantra. The day is not wasted.

            The lack of crowd made it easy to catch waves, but I felt weak. I forgot how much paddling, turning and going at the last second really takes out of you. It had been a while, so I was rusty. Still, with the smooth, slow speed of a manatee, I timed my waves well and managed to get down the line. Some of the beefier waves stood up, offering more sections and shoulders to pump down. I check turned on a few faces to wait for more shape and did some front side snaps, which on this board was more like kisses off the curling lip, pushing my nose back down for easy reentries.

            I felt like I had a purpose. Surfing gives me a purpose. I love it. Is that sad? I don’t think so. The high, the natural high I get, even off of small waves like today, what can I compare it to? I imagine the early-morning runner who hits the trail/street/track at dawn before no one is out, breathing in rhythm to his footsteps, smiling. Maybe something like that. Even with fellow surfers around, I didn’t feel invaded. I was right in my comfort zone.

            An hour later, pulling out my earplugs on the sand was like a reward. To hear the ocean, the waves, the birds, and even the warm, glowing atmospheric buzz of a good day, I knew I had started the day right. Walking back to my car I felt so accomplished. My day wasn’t wasted. My day was not wasted. I have a purpose. I love surfing. So important to start the day this way. I’ll do this for as long as I can.