Stoked

Traded in my ¾ wetsuit today for a full one. Followed the tide from Sandy Hook to Monmouth Beach to Long Branch, then Deal with the bodyboard. I feel like a new man.

 

My eyes are still stinging from the salt water and my legs are a little tight from kicking and walking. But my lungs are renewed, my chest is worked, and my spirit is afire. Five hours in and out of a cold ocean—an ocean generating great April tides and rides – will do that to you.

 

I still can’t tell whether the goose bumps are from the chill of the day or from the emotion of the day. I feel a bit closer to the me that most people know. The me that chills, idles, projects inner peace, and profound confidence. The me that winks at adversity. I took on a 5-footer today and steered around a Deal jetty like I was driving the wave. Whitecaps were nipping at my flippers and curling over my head. I bent hard right and took it in on the high beach. Three surfers, a man walking his dog, and a couple walking on the beach greeted me warmly as I stumbled ashore. The coolest, and hottest, I’ve felt in six months.

 

It was a long, contemplative (and cold) walk back. The wind kept catching the bodyboard pack slung over my back. The wind seemed to urge me away from the water. It was mega zen. I made more progress today than six weeks of bullshit and stupid, mind-numbing drugs.