All beginnings are exercises in humility...

The beginning is always a quiet pandemonium for me.

I spent the night twisting and turning with anxiety even if the journey is brutally short. Yeah, I couldn't sleep again last night. I lay my weary bones down around 11 or a bit thereafter and drifted into something of what I think was a peaceful sleep. I was brutally exhausted. My eyes openned at 2:30, dehydration, I drank my fill and went to bed but without any great success in falling asleep. I twisted until 3:30. I woke and began to work, answering email and plotting world domination. Back to bed around 4:30. I twisted like a reed in the wind for another half hour and then finally gave up the futile exercise and began to put together the bits of gear I would need.

First was the wetsuit. It came out of the closet, off the hanger where its been since before the beginning of summer. I grabbed my old, very smelly messenger bag, and shoved a pair of socks, some ties to fasten the board to the roof of Jason's truck, and two toels in it. I paced quite a bit as I went from room to room trying to fulfill my nature by over doing the gear. Surprisingly, I kept it to a minimum and walked away with a very light bag. Around 10 to 6 I began to think that Jason wouldn't show up. I was positive of it. At five after six my certainty melted in the blaring sound of my front door buzzer. I was simultaneously elated and upset that my ability to fortell the future had slipped; Jason's voice came in over the intercom and I buzzed him in.

I think there's an unconscious bond between all non morning people at six in the morning when embarking on a fool's errand: "WTF?" We must have said it simultaneously and thought it at equal moments even when the door was closed. Still, there was a giddiness about stealing off into the night armed with our fiberglass chariots and doing something that neither of us is very good at it.

A few cups of strong Yunan tea later we strapped my ridiculously oversized 11 foot 6 inch long board onto the top of his truck and headed the six blocks west down Balboa and turned south on the Great Highway hugging the ocean with our eyes to see where the action was. I'm scared of ocean beach. Yeah, you heard it, I'm actually afraid of it. The waves tend to be somewhat violent on this beach and its not the waves, its the riptide that has me worried. Someone drowned there not too long ago, well its been a few months, but not long enough to be an event where you would say "once, sometime ago."

Normally, mornings in the Richmond and Sunset districts of SF are punctuated with a thick heavy layer of pea soup fog that lasts for two to three weeks at a clip with brief respite. The fog was nowhere to be seen but a bloated layer of gray clouds hung on the roof of the sky with an ominous presence. We passed down 35 and back onto Highway 1 and headed for Pacifica. We arrived at the Taco Bell beach to find the waves somewhat smaller and the seas calmer. There were a number of people eyeing the water trying to decide if they wanted to get in or find another beach: "which way will it go?" A beautiful yellow lab with a huge rib cage waddled over to me for a pet and scratch and to show me his happy tail wag and smile. We played while his mom griped about no real waves as she brought her new board out and had just waxed it.

A movie quote comes to mind, "well, we didn't get dressed up for nothing?" (with thick socittish accent.) Yes, that's what we thought, Jason and I, we're here, lets do it. So we suited up and headed out into the unforgiving cold of the Pacific.

First observation: boards need fresh wax, rubberized torsos on suits don't help that much.

Second observation: I hardly remember how to do this, not that i ever did it well by any stretch of the imagination.

Third observation: The feeling of your head connection with a wave, a slap in the face from the hand of poseidon is both a wonderful and a terrible way to start the morning.

Fourth observation: although I have significant upper body strength my shoulders aren't nearly as tough as I would like them to be, and my forearms tire quickly. I lack arobic conditioning in my limbs.

Fifth observation: chest=breath breath+smoke=painful chest chest-smoke=faster returning breath I didn't miss it...

Sixth observation: I think I need a smaller board, this thing is like trying to turn an aircraft carrier at fremont and kearney without nicking the embarcardero center.

Seventh observation: more sleep helps, but I've had a totally surreal day since.

Back to the grindstone.