Yesterday I felt defeated, depressed, sad, frustrated, and more than a few expletives escaped my mouth throughout the day. A possible tear in my shoulder is edging the brakes on my surf mission, and I’m not confident that the next few days will bring good news. I don’t want to cause permanent damage (I might have already) but I can’t bear the thought of a long break from surfing. I gave it up for too long, and finding love in the ocean again also found me peace, therapy, and pure, childlike joy.
Moving forward from the initial shock of yesterday, I woke up today with no worries of the future, injuries, or regrets. I had Boris and Clark as a board caddy, and my shaper and sea sensei Jose Barahona as my wave caddy, and after catching a few I’ll continue my morning routine around my family of friends up the beach at Brother’s Burritos, as I always do.
I swam next to Jose in the fog as we took a spot in the lineup. “Ready?” “As I’ll ever be.” I pushed down hard with my left hand and scrambled to my feet, the wave leaving me in its liquid trails. The same thing happened yesterday – up and down, and rhythm was escaping me. Swimming back out, it was time for round 2 to get my total minimum count of 3 waves, so as to call it not just surfing, but an actual session. Jose pushed, and as I pushed down on the waxy fiberglass, I finally felt the ocean’s power. I glided down the little line, doing a small cutback and even walking to the nose, lightly stepping off as I docked into the sand. That one wave rejuvenated me than all the antidepressants in the world, and as I drifted back out to grab another just like it, I smiled so very big.
This might be possible after all.
