Whew. Sore arms and a little sunburnt from the beach on Sunday. I spent a whole 8 hours, and drove over four hundred kilometers, all for about 25 seconds of surfing a 4-foot left break.
The weird thing is, when I go over those three waves in my head, (as I frequently do) it all seems worth it. The other 6 hours of paddling and duck-diving, and numerous failed attempts at trying to catch a wave don't feature.
I came back to town bearing a very cheesy grin on my head, and with that kind of chattery talk-too-much demeanor that I get when I'm really happy.
The other thing that produces that feeling is playing music. Every Monday, Alex, and Ian and Cam & I have been getting together to jam, and generally mangle a varied collection of music. And it's the same feeling when we pack up and go home - a pleasant kind of inner glow that comes from doing something that totally owns your time.
As a stoner teenager I once scrawled "Be active if you can't be productive" on a scrap of paper by my bed. Seems like maybe good advice.