How do you want to start the week?
I ask the question silently to myself while burrowing deeper into the warmth of my bed. Outside it is still dark and I can barely make out the black outlines of bare tree branches.
I check the weather on my phone: 34 degrees.
I check the surf forecast again (even though it hasn’t changed since last night): medium ESE swells with moderate W winds.
Back to the weather: still 34 degrees.
I check the live beach cam (even though I know it is too dark to see anything): blackness with timestamp.
Back to the window: still dark outside.
My bed: warm and comforting.
I ask myself again: how do you want to start the week?
Dammit. Here we go:
Put feet on floor. Dress quickly: bathing suit, sweats, wool hoodie, sheepskin boots. Load the truck: wetsuit, booties, gloves, poncho, towel. Get surfboard from the cellar. Stop at Dunkin’ Donuts for some crappy coffee. Drive an hour not knowing exactly what will be at beach and if the waves will even be rideable.
Arrive at the beach. Evaluate the scene: Waves are giving one last heroic and valiant crash right into the shore before they die. It will be difficult just to get in the water.
Get thrown backwards into the sand one, two, three times. On the fourth time, somersault and eat sand. Get a pound of sand and ice water shoved into hood. Stagger backwards onto the beach.
Shake off remaining pride. Gather humility and courage. Repeat.
Wait for a lull and make a quick paddle to safety. (Good god, it’s cold.) Notice that the sky has a soft pinkish morning glow and the clouds are low and peaceful. There is a light offshore wind that blows the water backwards off the breaking peaks.
Surf: drop in and wipe out a couple of times. Dig in. Keep trying. (Remember that you are already a warrior and it doesn’t matter. Next time you’ll get the wave of your life.)
Drive home: feel grateful for truck’s heater. Sip hot chocolate and blast music. Itch crunchy and sand-filled head. Notice the birds soaring in the cotton candy sky over route 6, lined with bare tree tops. Buzz with ideas for the week: businesses to start, blogs to write, documentaries to edit. Forget said ideas before hitting the Bourne rotary.
Home: quaint Cape-style house. Warmth, fully stocked fridge. Leftover pieces of pie and Christmas cookies. Two cats in the yard. Safety, security, and abundance.
So that’s how I wanted to start the week.
Because sometimes it’s good to feel like a warrior.
Here in the safety of home, plunking away at my computer, I’m glad to know that those cold crashing waves are out there, brewing on the next storm, waiting to grind my face into the sand one more time.