Rain, Rain! Come Again?

It rained while I was out in the lineup today. There's something about surfing in the rain that I enjoy. Mind you, I won't paddle out after a measurable rain. That's just asking for trouble. But when you're sitting out there on your board and the clouds open up with a good torrent, it's wonderful thing.

While I was at the spot leaning against my car and watching the water before the session, a cyclist rode past and stopped. Then I heard her call out my name. A blast from the past. I remembered her face. I didn't have the nerve to tell her I couldn't remember her name. She said the last time we'd seen one another was about 10 years ago. She said she remembered us tag teaming on rides (i.e., working together to wear out the rest of the people—mainly guys—with whom we were riding). I acted like I remembered that. (Do you see why I keep a blog? My memory is horrible.) She said she wasn't sure if it was me standing there by the car. But our cycling friends told her I'd stopped racing and was now a surfer. So, when she saw this black chick at a surf spot, she thought it might be me. We talked for awhile, about 20 minutes. During that time, the tide still hadn't dropped to my liking. Since my window of opportunity was rather small, I paddled out anyway. I'd have to settle for whatever I could get.

The waves were backing off something fierce today. I was already sore from swimming and lifting. That soreness isn't bothersome when the waves have some size; bigger waves require less paddling. Today's waves lacked the juice I needed to make this a physically easy session. I was forced to work for every wave I got. That's fine. I got out of the water tired. I need to work off much of this anger I'm carrying around as a result of stuff that's happening out of the water. Unfortunately, surfing can't make it all better. Surfing ain't my mama. I will admit, though, that I consider it a good friend.