I've traded in my clip-on pony tail and peeled all the cool stickers off of my car. I walk to the water now with an oversized surfboard on my head, just like I did when I was twelve years old. Talk about going full circle! I am a kook. Again.
I’m feeling every bit like a little grom on a giant board, except now I surf on two artificial hips and a repaired right knee. I’ve been known to fall in awkward positions, and just generally get beat up and drug toward the rocks, cliffs, or other obstacles, all in two feet of whitewater. I stress out when the swell gets big, so I surf places with names like Old Man’s, Chickens and Leftovers instead of Suicides, Insanities or Deadman's. I have so many new friends at all the beginner breaks, the surfing is so mellow and happy there. Who knew?
My stand up board is semi-new. My body is semi-old. There’s not a place on it that isn't sore or hurting right now. I have surfed the last six out of seven days straight. I am pleasantly tired. One long surf session these days and I'm ready for some serious hammock time. That's it. I am a total kook again and too tired to be cool.
Getting regular beatings makes me appreciate all the small victories in the surf, like my first made wave of the day. There’s a hoot (from a fellow kook) when a bottom turn somehow worked out. Stand up has put the thrill back into surfing two-foot waves, and I leave the water with a good feeling — an afterglow when everything seems right in the world. The pedal on my bike is rusted and won't spin anymore, and my taxes are due. Again. On top of that I'm an hour late to my friend's barbecue. It’s all minor stuff - it’s nature's way - like leaves in the driveway. If more people surfed (stand up, lay-down, windsurf, kite, boogie or body) there would be no more wars. How can one fight when a carnitas burrito, two beers and a nap await?
Salt water streams out of my nose, released a few hours after getting worked. Unexpected, but I welcome its warm arrival. It defines a moment, brings back that split second of glory just before I kooked out. It's a little embarrassing when your sinuses let go in public. Last week was one of those times. I was shopping and leaning over to pick up a package of Swiss cheese, just as a lady shopper reached for a block of cheddar right next to it. Trapped saltwater let loose from my nose. It dripped onto the cheese. Her hand yanked back, avoiding the deluge. Our eyes met. Her's were blue, mine were red. The look she gave me conveyed two things: Ebola virus and no Swiss. A former girlfriend's nose once released saltwater on my chest after we surfed some good waves. That was another defining moment, one that only another surfer can appreciate.
So at 69, I'm still surfing. My goal? To keep at it and try not to get too much worse. And the best thing about surfing for life? The memories of all those waves ridden before this one, and sometimes still feeling that same stoke I had as a grom, splashing into the shorebreak on a blow-up surf mat. Those same feelings can happen outta the surf, too.
Take yesterday for example. Walking from the surf, with a big honking board on top of my head, I hear, "Hey, Kook!”. I do a reverse step (as well as one can). "Whajasay?" I ask."I said, "'Hey, KOOOOOK!’ You, da standup comedian. I'm talkin' to YOU, Mr. Late for My Barbecue!” My friend pretends to be pissed and throws a mock knock-out punch to my jaw.
When I finally make it to his backyard party, I’m gonna pretend to be pissed and slug my friend back. Just like I did when we were kids.
The circle of life never stops.
