So, I’ve been badly neglecting my LJ in favor of trying to spur my writing for Failure To Land, as well as, I hate to say, the minimal, Twitter-like updates in Facebook. The Facebook part especially is a bad habit that I’ve been struggling with, but it’s become my primary social link with all those friends overseas that I miss bantering with so much, so it gives me a way to still mentally spar with them. But you are not forgotten LJ! I’ve even given you new icons, look! Icons!
I know, I’m a bad blog friend.
For the weeks since my return from Europe, surfing has become my new weekend goal, or at least it was until my physical therapist put the kibosh on it because I kept screwing up my shoulder some more from some of the longer sessions. But really, it’s been completely worth it, especially this last Sunday at Freshwater beach ,where the sets were 4-6 feet and, maybe not glassy, but they were damn good. Having only just gotten to the point where getting to my feet is a very real possibility, dark blue still fills me with more dread than excitement, but I still felt fantastic sitting in the lineup, trying to find my own sweet spot, waiting for the wave that said “ride me”. And then it would be there on the horizon, growing steeper and bigger in perfect timing to reach me just as it was getting ready to collapse on itself, lifting my tail and blindly throwing me forward. There was no finesse, no style, just running from a torrent of disaster chasing behind me as the glints of sunlight off the water streaked into tracers at my feet, but it really didn’t matter. It felt fantastic. And every time it was over, I wanted to do it again.
For the next two weeks I’m on a surfing hiatus to let my shoulder recover a bit, but I leave for Hawaii for Christmas in just over a week, where my board is sitting in my parents’ garage waiting for me, and reports of winter swells in the islands keep showing up in my feeds. Shoulder recovery will probably have to wait.