The Last Hurrah
The party's over, I think. Whether or not the blog continues remains to be seen. It all depends on how much I'm able to surf with a full-time, "9 to 5" job. I actually thought my last day in the water would be Friday and I was prepared to leave it at that. Then, an opportunity presented itself this morning . . . and I took it. Soul Brother #1 had to work yet again (which really sucks for him as he hasn't had a day off in close to two weeks). Mom agreed to hang with Soul Brother #2. I made a run for the ocean. Pacific Waverider showed RPB as the only local spot that looked somewhat promising. Once again, I was prepared not to surf, but I knew I wanted to get in the water one last time. The waves at RPB were small. Every once in awhile, a waist high or shoulder high wave might roll through. For the most part, the waves were tiny and weak. My shoulders were none too happy with all of that pointless paddling for waves that either petered out or provided short, snail-like rides. It didn't matter much. The place wasn't all that crowded. I think I've circled the group I was in. I tend to line up with Dos Baños.
When I decided it was time to go, I paddled down closer to the stairs and waited for my one last wave. One of the bigger ones appeared in the distance. (Of course, it only took about two hours for that wave to travel 500 yards!) It came straight at me. I felt kind of lucky. I hadn't been waiting that long for the "one last wave" and there it was. I caught it, watched it build, and set up for a nice long ride. Or so I thought. Damn that Marlon! Okay, Marlon's the dude with over 60 boards. I enjoy surfing with him. He brings positive, joyful energy into the water. But, dammit, he dropped in on me on my one last as-close-to-perfect-as-that-slow-assed-wave-is-going-to-get wave. I mean he dropped in right in front of me. Then I just started yelling. "Marlon, that's my wave! Get off my wave!!! My wave!!! Get off!" Mind you, I was saying all of this in a tone that showed I wasn't mad. Marlon laughed so hard that he fell off his board before he could even pull out of the wave. Damn snake! I owe him one.
I don't know where I go from here exactly. I won't be surfing much anymore. Part of me wants to walk away from it altogether. It's not that I no longer love the sport. It's just that you sometimes feel like a thing isn't worth doing if you can't give it your all. I've always cringed at the idea of being a "weekend warrior". But your perspective changes once you become a parent. Before Soul Brother #2 was born, I would happily awaken at 5 a.m. to do a workout before work. Usually that meant I rode my bike. Had I been surfing then, I would have been in the water. Now, my mornings belong to Soul Brother #2 (since Soul Brother #1 is already at work by 5:30). If I want to surf, it will be on the weekends. I feel like that's not enough time in the water. Then again, something is better than nothing, right? We shall see what becomes of this blog. This is the job I think I'm meant to have. However, the last time I held such a thought, I got laid off (with almost everyone else in the company) after three months. My goal is to stay at this job, pay some bills, and figure out a way to make enough money doing my own thing. I'm thinking of starting another blog though. If I do, I'll put a link to it on the "Links" list to the right. Everyone get some waves for me and wish me luck—and patience—at this new job.