Why was I out there?

To practice. To paddle. To prepare.

As I sat out there in the surf this afternoon, I looked up and down the surface of the ocean. For as far as I could see, no one was out. No one except me. Why was I out there? I asked myself this question more than once. The sea was a crappy grey-green color, like industrial carpet in a factory in Russia. The waves were about chest high on sets, but would lurch up and instantly disappear. The water was cold, but not finger cramping cold. The wind was chilly, nipping at my ears, and I could feel the canal in my left one closing more and more by the second. At this rate, I should be deaf within a few years.

So, why was I out there? Because Bob is right. He said I should be paddling out every single day, whatever the conditions, to prepare for New Zealand. I know he's right, but it wasn't much fun paddling and paddling for waves that rarely broke. I had three or four that just died after one or two turns. But, the last one was worth everything. I felt redeemed, and I remembered what surfing is all about.