Let’s get one thing straight: I am not a morning person.
I never have been and never will be. You know that classical music song by Rossini? Of course ya do! Well, as beautiful as the song is, it will never be taken seriously by myself.
<Insert savvy pun about men my age here>
I CONFESS: I would just as soon as throw a brick through a window hoping to nail the rising sun that mocks my eyes than to be pried out of the comfort of my warm cozy bed.
The only sound that miraculously pulls me from my slumber: THIS.
Bleary eyed and cantankerous, my wetsuit-ed body pulls itself down the cold street by my bare feet, my mind counting my blessings in bittersweet fashion.
Is there some bump in the water? Don’t know until I get there, but I sure hope so!
Any tiny piece of gravel under my feet turns me into a moping baby in whine mode, the sand’s chilly temperature imitates grainy snow piling between my toes. The crisp air coupled with the first touch of the semi-cool Pacific finally wake my senses and, yes, I can do this.
With the lineup count at two, I slide into whatever choice glassy peak I want, sans hoots, aggro-ness and other alpha ape-like behaviors.
Alarms, cold neoprene, annoying gravel and a semi-lucid morning walk –worth every last frigid second.
As for the rest of the day, well…