There is a natural law that I have been ignoring for years. I can't deny it's existence any longer. There can be waves for days on end, but the minute I put boards in my car and begin to travel in the direction of the ocean, something happens, and the sea goes silent.That being said, I did get in the water this weekend.
There is another equation I have been batting around my feeble skull. Apparently, if you do not surf, or paddle for four years, it makes you surf and paddle like a guy named Norm, on a visit from Wisconsin. I think I get this whole cross training idea. Cycling is fantastic, and I can ride for hours, but surfing is profoundly unimpressed by this stat.
The waves this Saturday were waist high, and I was in the water for a very short time. I was very surprised how tough it was to paddle. I am going to try to work some swimming in to my regimen, and make it a goal to surf more this year. I suppose I will have to do what I did before my last surf trip as well. I tied my cord to my diving board, and paddled against the tension in my pool. It is the surfing equivalent of a stationary trainer.
I did hang with my brothers, Chris and Dennis. Chris treated us to gourmet Thai food on Saturday. I ate more than a third world nation and felt no remorse.We were celebrating one year since Chris was diagnosed with cancer. He had a six percent survival rate. The emotional wounds are still fresh, but the fact that he is working as hard as ever, and surfing again is (and I know the word is over used) a miracle. There is no need for an Oprah style re-hash, he is alive and we celebrate every day that guy is walking around aggravating the shite out of us!
Dennis and I have a sick competitive relationship, and I have never won anything when pitted against him. He is a Shoalin Kung Fu style master, and there isn't anything that bastard doesn't do well. My search for his weakness continues! He beat me by one pin bowling (which isn't fair because I wasn't even drinking). I put him away at ping pong, but it was a hollow victory. My youngest son beat me twice. There is no joy in Mudville.
Well this ends my three weeks of Homer-esk (the poet, not the Simpson) weirdness. The kids are back in School, Dennis goes back to his affluent life, after visiting his trailer trash past, and I am looking forward to my routine of work, riding and over indulgent blog postings! Get out your red pens and prepare to fill the margins with my ineptitude!