Um… sometime last week, when I had a successful run of waking up early and driving off to look at the surf. Or was that the week before? Spring is crazy-making and not in the frisky nature way, but in the wow-to-get-everything-done-I’ve-got-to-get-up-at-5 a.m.-and-not-stop-moving-and-still-at-the-end-of-the-day-I’m-left-with-too-many-good-intentions-left-unfollowed kind of way.
More on that, or not, later. Right now I have about 40 minutes to catch up on all things blog-relevant: surf, diabetes, writing, reading, walking on the beach, money, bike, family, aikido. And that limoncello post.
As far as that surf session, the waves would’ve been much more fun if I weighed 80 pounds less and was a foot shorter. Imagine them just sort of falling over and dissipating, rather than forcefully breaking and propelling energy forward.
But, hey! A lot of paddling. That felt good. Good enough that with each reach and pull, I could imagine this being a regular part of my life again. Today, however, with a swell of 2 at 7, will not be that day.
Where is this break? I don’t recognize the background. It almost looks like the break at that sand bar opposite the CG station on the jetty. Inquiring minds want to know.
We call it Malibu Barbie’s. Some folks refer to it as G.I. Joe’s. That’s an old photo, though — it doesn’t break like that any more. Pretty, isn’t it?