After a long night of fun Saturday shenanigans, 6:30 a.m. felt like a slow moving blur. As soon as I stepped outside, I no longer had any focus on the slight pounding on my head with the 42 degree air plus wind chill factor hitting my face.
I pulled up to the El Porto parking lot and sat and stared at the clean little lines coming in, drinking my steaming Peet’s coffee and blasting the car heater along with the calming voice of Sylvan Esso, stalling a bit before finally making my entry into the sea. The first few rides were magical — short but peaceful, and with the light coming up over the beautiful El Porto houses I felt like I was literally riding my big blue board into the sunrise.
I paddled into what I didn’t think was going to be my last wave, came off the lip and landed back down thinking that I just stuck a good looking floater. To my dismay, the whitewash from the wave flipped my board, and the deadly 9 inch sharp fin on my custom Jose Barahona longboard decided that it wanted to be friends with my calf and smashed into it. The waves carried my board to the beach and I floated in the shorebreak for a bit, unable to move, stand, or walk, hoping that yet again (now the 3rd time since I started my surf every day mission) my worst fear of breaking my leg didn’t just happen. I got myself to the sand and hung out on the beach for a bit watching Teddy and Dr. Luis Abrishamian catch a few waves before finally hobbling slowly to my car to get my wetsuit (which without a doubt saved my leg today) off and myself into some dry warm clothes.
I giggled as Teddy carried me up Dr. A’s stairs to his gorgeous El Porto residence, where motrin and definitely the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had in my life was waiting for us, the ocean view and good company making a rough morning a million times better.
As the discolored bruise on my calf grows and the thick red line from where the fin surely would have cut me if I didn’t have a wetsuit on brightens, I reflect on some of the crazy injuries I’ve had since starting this quest. The worst ones humorously happen on the smallest of surf days, and paddling out the next few days after getting rocked can sometimes test my tenacity for surfing every single day. But the attraction of a challenge is that it is in fact challenging, and the bumps in the road make the good days even better.
Ice and rest, then on to 160 in the a.m.
