Yesterday, my alarm went off at 5:50 a.m. I awoke curled in the fetal position for warmth. The sky was still dark, and the birds outside my window hadn’t begun chirping yet. I’m crazy, I thought to myself. Still I slid into my bathing suit, a sweatshirt and a nice pair of linen pants. Like a zombie, I put my foamboard in the truck drove with my friend down to the Venice pier. The waves looked… well, not that great, and it was cold, and so early. At least I had “Insomniac Olympics” to get me moving.
I put on my new, skintight Roxy wetsuit with it’s beautiful blue accents. I felt like a million dollars. (I’d like to thank the awesome cashier at Boardershop in Venice for hooking me up with such a great deal, you truly are a saint!) The water felt ah-ma-zing! It was warm and salty. I dunked in and swam out past the break. I’m addicted. If you ever need me, you can find me in the Pacific — sharks or no sharks.
“Oh, man. Hey, no hurling on the shell, dude, ok? Just waxed it.” — Crush, Finding Nemo.