Yesterday, I went surfing in a fairly remote place with Karl.

The conditions are neither what we expected nor hoped for. The waves are small and mushy and it hardly looked worth going in.

I was there with Carol we were in the middle of nowhere so we went anyway. Karl, I thought, had the right board - a great big log of a longboard. It has more float than a farting duck. I was riding a mid-length board. It made writing these waves more like mixing a McDonald's milkshake. I wasn't going anywhere.

With no small amount of envy I watched Carl catch wave after wave after wave.

I've got the wrong board, I shouted to him. He smiled and kept on paddling.

I eventually reached it tipping point. I was frustrated, irritated, and ready to get the hell out of the water. Then something important happened.

Fuck it.

I hit a fucking point. I decided to start belly riding on waves. I just started to start writing on my knees on my surfboard. Essentially I decided to just start playing with what I had, rather than lamenting what I didn't have.

Once you progress in surfing and start writing on your feet it's considered a bit gauche to ride waves on your knees or your bellies. It's improper. It's frowned upon. For a regular Surfer, these are the conditions to turn your nose up at, walk away from, and pretend that you're better than this.

I'll admit that when two others showed up at this beach I started popping to my feet right away, demonstrating my competence at this highly important endeavor of catching waves on a piece of foam.

Having demonstrated that yes I was not a kook, I went back to having fun. It's remarkable though that I had to put on a show. It's a bit absurd then I felt it important to demonstrate that no I was not a kook. I did it without thinking.

After the session, I checked in with Karl

Sorry man, that sucked, he apologized.

I guess I didn't have the wrong board afterall.

One Derful Thing

Find a time today to take unnaturally big steps.

Walk in lunges.

What's that like?