Surfing Dawn Patrol Makes You a Crazy Joyful Ninja

Joy makes you a ninja.

Joy lights you up so darkness bounces off you like a tennis ball the rest of the day.

On winter mornings where I drag my ass out of bed, the blue of nautical twilight in the sky, wriggle into 6mm of rubber and make my way north to the beach, I am, essentially, driving to a session of Joy.

I park and I’m moving as fast as I can without forgetting things (I inevitably leave my wax on the back windshield wiper where I’ve stored it so I don’t have to reopen the car and then I arrive home after my seshie shocked and grateful that it’s still there). I’m moving so fast that I always wonder, Where did I stow my key? as I’m running towards the water. There’s no turning back to check, it’s too cold, I’ve got to work in an hour, and there are waves.

I’m running. Running so fast that I will likely trip on my leash and stagger or possibly fall but I don’t care because…there are waves.

And then I’m in the water. When there’s a break, I’m paddling for a spot beyond the break. And then I’m there, bobbing, watching the pink yolk of the sun rise from the horizon. Maybe I’m with Maddie or maybe it’s just me, the rest of the world asleep.

And then, a wave’s coming. It’s rising—is there enough push? Am I in the right spot? Gotta go!—and I’m paddling and it’s got me, and I’m popping up and riding the face or just cruising if it’s a wicked small day. Then I’m off, and inside, it’s church bells and holyrollin’ choirs, fireworks and confetti. It’s joy joy joy. It’s the doing of the thing I’m fashioned to do, the practice and the act. The ritual and the time that has brought me to this point. It’s the simple act of harnessing energy and being with nature, riding what she has given us, being one with that wave.

This feeling—this lit up, boogie woogie feeling—is with me all day. It’s got my shoulders higher. It’s got my voice all chirping like. It’s got me smiling and dancing and thinking, Whatevs! When life doesn’t go my way or when my coworker asks me an annoying question. It’s a suit of armor for whatever nonsense might come up.

It is JOY that comes from PLAY and the thing I love to do.

Maddie and I often find ourselves shouting, “IT’S JUST SO FUN!” when we’re out on the water.

Epiphany: FUN and joy: Not just for kids.

Fun and JOY is for you and for me!

Night Rides, Owl Screeches and Buttered Rum

Last night Steph, Maddie and I met up at one of our favorite spots for a night time mountain bike ride. It was cold, and dark, and the stars were shining brightly in the clear sky.

As we suited up, throwing on our backpacks, adjusting our lights, we heard a wild animal cry in the night.

“Woooahhh,” I said.

“That’s an owl!” Steph said.

It was a harsh piercing of the night, that noise, and it gave me both goosebumps and a thrill.

“Right on,” we said and we got going.

The ground was hard, thankfully, frozen and easy to ride.

The trails in the dark feel narrow, the turns quick. With my new headlamp Nick gave me I could see so much more than the last time I’d gone out, which I was thankful for.

There’s something so peaceful about night riding, and so special. It’s like you have a secret with the world, while everyone else is warm and inside.

At a stop, as Maddie adjusted her bike, Steph withdrew a small flask resembling a rocket ship from her bag. “I figured we could toast to our new female Vice President,” she said, which was met with enthusiasm and cheers. She promised all the shot glasses were sterilized and we passed the flask around, filled up our mini shot glasses and had our toast. To a new year, to new beginnings, to things already feeling more ok again under the new leadership.

In the night, on the airstrip, the large planes were hallowed and still. We rode over roots and rocks, dodged malicious gnarls in the ground and after 4 or so miles, came out to the street and head back to our cars, legs and hearts warmed.