Surfing is the most humbling sport ever. I paddled out for the first time in months the other day to tabletops. I had only been here once before.
I was WINDED from the paddle out to the reef. Once I got there, I went to paddle for a few waves only to look over and see a dude with priority, and to shortly back off. As I was finally paddling into a wave that was all mine, he was paddling back out past me and exclaimed “go, go, go!” I smiled because I appreciated the support and the acknowledgement of the several opportunities we had both tried to go for.
And what did I do? Eat it. And I ate it again several times after that. I maybe caught two decent waves—neither of them were anywhere close to the waves of the day.
I did start to get in my head “what if the people around me think I’m brand new to surfing? How kooky must I look?” Then I reminded myself: who cares?
It felt great to be home, whether I scored or not. I was so excited to continue to get back into my groove and go out a few times this week.
Checked the weather app to find an onshore wind warning, and Surfline to find 11 foot waves for the next few days.
There goes that dream. Guess that’s the nature of nature.