It's Good to Feel Good

I can honestly say that feel better physically at age 46 than I did at 36.

I celebrated my birthday with a mountain bike ride of almost 59 miles, and just over 6,200 feet of climbing. That's something I never would have dreamed was possible ten years ago, and even five years ago I would have been exhausted by one-fifth of that effort. And 14 years ago, I was trying to recover after breaking my back in three places, and I believed that such athletic pursuits were behind me.

Of course there's plenty of room for improvement, physically and in life in general, but on the whole I am a very lucky man indeed.

Good Grief

Good grief, has it really been 2-1/2 months since I've posted anything? Time has flown by and life has offered more than the usual dose of unexpected twists and bumps. Of course on the trail, twists and bumps are fun, but in life....well, sometimes you can find ways to find fun in them as well. At the very least, there are opportunities.

Speaking of which, there is a lot looming on the near horizon; a birthday, the holidays, some traveling, and some substantial challenges. And as is usual for this time of year, there's a lot of reflection and introspection too. I'm a bit prone to seasonal blues, but with so many changes and such turmoil over the past 18 months, I am particularly on guard against it this year. Two seasons ago, doors were closing. Last year offered possibilities tinged with pain. This will be the first year of a "new normal" during the holidays.

Good grief. An expression of mild exasperation, true, but applied literally it could summarize a lot of my recent past, of the recent past for people close to me, and for life in general. We crave love and closeness, though it often leads to hurt. But in the pain is growth, in the growth is life, and in life is the seed of love.
or is that the other way around? There are so many things that I question these days, but they feel like worthy questions. And sometimes the grief really is good.

Even Though, Part Deux

Even though I'd had such a fun day before, and even though the waves were a super-fun peaky 3-4' with some head-high sets, I still had a weak session yesterday. First time on the shortboard in a while, and I definitely have some dues to pay to get the timing back. But having ridden my LB pretty aggressively the day before, I felt like I should get on a board that was designed for that kind of approach. I still think this is probably a great board, but I'm having a hard time with it feeling too sketchy for me. I want to be able to power it, and it seems to just want to squirrel out too much when I push it. Maybe some different fins...

And even though it was less-than-stellar session, it still made me happy. It felt great to be out there, to be on the shortboard, the be hustling for waves and to not worry about the time. And even when I did start to get really frustrated over my complete donkeyness, a shared laugh with a stranger and a nice chat with someone else picked me right up, especially because those sorts of interactions can be rare in the crowded and competitive lineups of Huntington.

In all, it really was a great weekend.
(And I didn't even electrocute myself....though I came very, very close!)

Even though...

Even though I spent the evening in the even-more-landlocked-than-my-neighborhood environs of Corona, it was a wonderful night. And even though I didn't get to sleep until 1:30-ish, I still got up and surfed. Even though I didn't quite make it for the dawn patrol, it was still glassy and the crowd was light. Even though the waves weren't epic, I had way more fun rides than I could ever have expected. And even though I'm heading out into the 100-degree heat to go clean my garage, and it's still only halfway through Saturday, this still counts as a really great weekend.

I am smiling.

Movement

Adios little purse. It was a good place to land for a while, but it's time to move on with a more focused direction and to a new location. I will miss the salt air, the sound of the foghorns in the morning, and riding a bike along the shoreline in the quieter months. My residency at the beach has ended for now, but my relationship with the sea will endure, and there will be more mornings spent walking across crisp, cool sand and paddling across silky-smooth water. The anticipation as a set approaches is a timeless thing, and the allure of those intimate moments wrapped in the embrace of the wave is unending.

Right now though, I am looking forward to a simpler life in a new place, and to coming home.

Nipples of Fire

Today was the first day I've surfed in about a month, and the first time in 3 or 4 years that I paddled out in trunks only. The waves weren't much, but the temps felt like the proverbial bathwater. I'd forgotten how liberating it is to be out in trunks in warm water, feeling free and unencumbered by a neoprene straitjacket. I'd also forgotten the exquisite joy of nipple rash, and the zing you get afterward in the shower when soap and hot water rush to the synapses the same way that lemon juice loves a paper cut. All day, rushing from task to task, the reminder of the morning's waves was right there, and with every tender rub against the inside of my shirt, I was reminded that it's a special treat to be a surfer.

DC Redux

I forgot to post after finishing Deepak Chopra's "The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success."

In an earlier post, titled "The Tao of Dean Martin," I questioned whether Chopra was providing original insights or simply regurgitating fortune cookie wisdom. Perhaps I shouldn't be too judgmental since I generally prefer fortune cookies to most forms of spirituality, but I was not impressed. While there were some worthwhile sentiments, I came away from that book feeling like it was a watered-down, easily-accessible version of genuine spirituality and self-reflection.

So I'll leave a question for DC and/or the universe to try to answer, as it's one I've been struggling with of late:

What should you do when the high road keeps taking you someplace you don't want to go, but the low road is just too low?

The late, great Douglas Adams, who knew a thing our two about Life, the Universe, and Everything, and who I suspect might have been able to offer Mr. Chopra some fresh insights on spirituality, probably would have offered me the absurdly cryptic answer "42." That answer, it turns out, is about as practically applicable to me as I found Chopra's book to be. So from now on, when faced with a difficult choice, I'll imagine Douglas Adams and Dean Martin are in the room with me, looking over my shoulder, and I'll do my best to make them proud. For now though, I'm not too worried about impressing Deepak Chopra.