The ratio of exhaustion to enjoyment
I wasn't planning to go out today at all; no waves were predicted and I could see none from my balcony. I was all ready to sit down and do some work and then I see a guy going down the street with a surfboard. I follow him and I see a tiny little wave like yesterday. Probably, if he had been heading to a bridge to throw himself off I would have followed like a lemming to the sea as well. I was all, like, If he's doing it I'm gonna do it.
But even though the waves were so small I still had a bad time, and I don't know why. I kept expecting to have a good time like yesterday, which is why I persisted. Again, it was a nice day with no one out, and I was so optimistic. I was singing gospel songs to myself in the "lineup" (hey, no one could see or hear), that's how good I felt, and still I blew wave after wave. It was embarrassing to be seen by the lone fisherman.
I'm not a believer in giving up but I'm a believer in maintaining a reasonable ratio of exhaustion to enjoyment. If you stay out a long time because you're having fun, and you go past the point of no return (I have one, at least) you're OK with being exhausted later, falling into bed at nine p.m. and sleeping for twelve hours. But if you stay out past your set point because you can't or won't admit that you are having a bad time and are determined to make it good, you will fall dead from exhaustion for no good reason.
I wasn't even aware that I was out nearly two hours, my absolute limit, probably because of the gospel music. By the time I realized it was too long it was too late.
I'd exhausted myself and had to pay the price.
If I'd learned something from the session, such as what it was I was doing wrong, it would have been almost bearable; but I didn't. I had no good reason for sucking, that I could see. I just did.