What it's all been for

What it's all been for, five years of struggle: this day.

One perfect day when it all comes together: Catching waves; popping up (really), getting up low and staying low; riding waves (really) the way they are meant to be ridden, with the power of the wave behind me, turning the board to go the way the wave wants it to go. It's fun in a way surfing has never been fun before. This is, finally, the real thing. I can do it.

And I do it again and again, I am a surfer; and it may evaporate tomorrow, I may backslide again, but today it is perfect.

In my mind somewhere is the image of the way I've seen others ride waves for five years, and I know I am doing the same thing. Surfing.

The next day, other people post eloquently on the local surf message board about this day. I am not the only one who felt it; though some feel the need to qualify their joy by saying "best small day," still what they are saying is best day in memory.

At the end of the day I feel exhausted, happily; I think I'll sleep early, but I can't sleep so easily; I'm still thinking about how it felt today. I'm too stoked to sleep.

And Surfline called it flat.