San Diego, Baby! – March 28, 2011

I’m here!  I’m here!  I’m here!  I’ve wanted to see San Diego for years now, and I’m finally here!  I’ve accompanied Ted out here for a week-long conference and we arrived yesterday.  Ten years ago I visited much of the California coast but I didn’t go this far south.  This is unfortunate because I’ve been told by many that it’s my kind of place.  The whole organic/locally grown movement, the wide variety of outdoor rec opportunities – I would totally fit in here.



Hodad's - best burgers in OB!

Truth be told, it’s the idea of surfing here that has most allured me.  This is where Ted learned and he’s been tempting me with stories of morning surf sessions in the Pacific, followed by breakfast burritos out of a food truck.

Within our first hour in the state, we made our way down to Ocean Beach to watch the surfers by the pier, then stopped into South Beach Bar and Grill (http://southbeachob.com).  We ordered our tacos with wahoo and baja fish, which is much different than the mahi or snapper fish tacos we’re used to in Florida. 



Fish tacos and a couple of pints of Pacifico?  Yes please! 

We sat at the window looking down Newport Avenue and as we were immensely enjoying our snack, we got to experience my favorite moment of the trip so far.

A man in what looked to be his late 60s came walking by in a shorty wetsuit that had more miles on it than Ted’s '82 Saab 900 (that had a real hang up with going into reverse) and he was carrying a bag with his name on it.  Geff (with a G) appeared to have stepped right out of Woodstock, N.Y., cir. 1969.  He looked a little wobbly in his step, if you get my drift, but maybe he was hitting the wall after a long surf session...or something.

I think these flips were at Woodstock...

About 20 minutes later, Geff-with-a-G came walking back from what was evidently the public showers.  Ted bet me that he was walking back to the 30-year-old VW camper van that looked like it hadn't been moved in a decade.  Seriously, you should have seen how low those tires were!  

I didn’t take him up on the bet; Geff and the Vanagon were clearly destined for each other.  Sure enough, this rail of a man slid open the 50-lb. door with one great heave and climbed into his (truly) mobile home.  Before closing it behind him, a menagerie of "house" wares that he'd obviously been collecting since the Nixon administration was visible from our perch across the parking lot.

The Vanagon.

Before we could process this bizarre scene that had just unfolded, a guy on a bike with more modifications than I've ever seen, rode by.  It had kid's bike-sized tires, yet the frame was long enough to fit an adult.  The seat - a banana seat, no less - hovered further back over the rear wheel than normal, and the handle bars...oh the handle bars… they were the ape-hanger type I'm used to seeing in my unfortunate hometown when Bike Week is full blast and muffin tops squeezing out of leather chaps are on the back of every third or so Harley.  //sigh//  But I wasn't in my home town - where this type of tacky is commonplace - so I had to take a picture.

Ape hanger handles bars...WITH a banana seat.  Winning.

Wow, not even a full afternoon in the region and I'm already brimming with stories.  I LOVE this place!!

Cupid Hit the Surf Shop - February 14, 2011

Happy Valentine’s Day!!!  What better way to spend a beautiful February day than to take off from work and go surfing?!



The surfer in this pic obviously knew the value of a hood



For the love-centric holiday, Ted and I gave each other the gift of neoprene.  I gave him booties and a hood (as he already had gloves), and he gave me gloves and a hood.  I can’t begin to describe the difference it makes when your head and hands are warm – especially if you take into account my Reynods Syndrome (a fun little condition that causes my capillaries to close for business when I get cold, thereby causing my hands and feet to turn a shocking shade of white). 

While I’m an avid believer in not shying away from experiences that toughen me up, I was bordering on hypothermia in some of our sessions.  It's gotten so cold lately that we’ve only be able to be in the water for 40 minutes before crying uncle.  So keeping our extremities warm will make a marked improvement on our surfing experience.

When we first stepped into the water, Ted couldn’t believe how much warmer his feet were; when we first began to paddle, I couldn’t believe how much warmer my hands were.  When we were both completely submerged (the point that every cold-weather surfer dreads), we relished in the fact that our hoods shielded us from the jolt of cold water flooding into the back of our wetsuits.

It was a great day to be in the water – the sun was out, the sky was a brilliant blue, and the beach was relatively empty with the exception of a couple of snowbirds who stopped to watch us as they were walking by.  Ted suggested I take Olive for another spin since the waves were pretty small and it was perfect for a push session.  Since I didn’t have to worry about catching the waves on my own, I could just practice popping up on my new board. 

My first ride was great!  Because it was such a small day, I could scoot forward on my board without having to worry about pearling the nose into the wave.  So with his push and using my feet still to pop up, I could easily get up on the board.   We knew that on bigger days (read: non-push session friendly), I would have to move back down on my board, meaning I’d have to pop up using only my knees, but I could work on that at home.  We figured that by the time it was warm enough to surf without a wetsuit (when I wouldn’t be encumbered by all the neoprene), I’d be able to do a shortboard pop up.  In the meantime, this little push session was important for me to start getting the feel for riding a shorter board.  As I was enjoying the short rides into the beach on Olive, it was clear that it was definitely a more maneuverable and responsive board than Greenie.  



For the first time in three months, we were comfortable (thank you, Cupid, for the gift of warmth), so we actually found it hard to pull ourselves away from the surf.  But warmed pressed sandwiches and tomato soup from our favorite sandwich shop were to be had, and who could resist that?

Until we meet again…

Crybear Comes Out - January 17, 2011

Today was one of the prettiest days we’ve had all winter.  The skies had cleared from days of rain and the temperature had warmed up into the 60s.  I had watched the swell charts all week and a hopeful bump on Friday remained a constant promise.  So I was determined to kick off early and go surf. 

Around 2:30, I skeedattled out of the office and grabbed my board and wetsuit.  I decided to take Olive because I had been practicing my shortboard pop-up and was getting better. 

Once at the beach, I hastily unpacked the board, yanked up my wetsuit’s zipper and tugged on my booties – I couldn’t wait to get down to the surf!  Just then, I heard a car in the all-but-empty parking lot and I turned around to see Ted driving up.  I was delighted!  Even though I was allured by the adventure of surfing by myself, there was something comforting about having him there.

He just came to watch and I was so excited that he was going to see my first ride on the board he gave me for Christmas!  However, as we walked up the boardwalk, I began noticing how windy it was.  When the surf came into view, we both uttered, “wow.”  The wind had whipped up the gulf to the point that there was no clean form to the waves – just chop, whitewater, and a lot of churn. 

It reeeally wasn’t the best of surf conditions and it certainly wasn’t a good day for giving Olive another shot.  But the wetsuit was on, so I was committed.  That’s the rule.  When I have children and their ski bibs and jackets are on, there’s no chickening out at that point, they’re slapping on the skis and getting in line for the chair lift.  When that zipper’s up, it’s up.

Thank you Google Images

Ted quietly marveled at my bullheadedness as I surveyed the best place to paddle out.  Then I strapped on my leash, picked up my board, and walked with purpose into the water.

Yikes!!  It was cold.  Even with the full suit and booties, it was suck-the-air-right-out-of-your-lungs, cold. As much as I dreaded the thought of lying on my board, where the water could freely wash around me, I had no choice but to hop on and paddle out.  



The waves were coming in from all directions.  There were no defined sets of waves (usually they come in threes), they were just mashing up against each other, creating a lot of white water.  This is like St. George, only 40 degrees colder. 

When I got out to where I thought I could start catching waves, I sat up on the board.  Within seconds I spotted one that I thought would do.  So I lay down, paddled a few strokes and popped up.  Ok, not true.  I tried to pop up.  The board shot out from under me and I went tumbling into the glacial water.

It made me gasp – the water, not my poor performance – and I quickly clamored back up onto my board.  I tried to exert a little more patience and select my next wave more judiciously.  I focused on recreating the pop-up that I had so diligently practiced for weeks and thought I was getting better at.

As I waited, I began noticing the fact that my feet were going numb and my hands weren’t that far behind.  I tried to circle my legs under the board just to keep moving, and I rubbed my hands together as if over a fire.  My hair was a cold mop tangled around my neck and I was wearing out from the intense shivering.

Just then, I saw a wave pressing up from the southwest and I thought, this is it – this is going to be my first ride with Olive.  Four strong paddles, hands to the board, quick pop up and I’m up! I’m on the board!!!  Only, oh, the wave rolled up under me…and now I’m losing my balance.  Back into the water I went. 

The worst part wasn’t the cold, watery death that I decided I was going to have that afternoon, it was the fact that just before I plunged back in for oh, the third time, I saw Ted (and his Cheshire cat grin – unbelievable that I can see that from out here!) with some bystanders watching me from the beach.  Oh good, an audience.

Ok, now I’m mad.  More than mad, I’m St. George Pissed.  I get pretty frustrated when I can’t do something (it comes from being the little sister who got left behind when she couldn’t keep up with her brothers) but I reeeaallly get frustrated when others are there to witness my inability. 



Oh it’s freaking ON.  Again, and again for what seemed like an hour (though I’m pretty sure it wasn’t more than 20 minutes) I fought the waves, I fought the wind, I fought the lack of an extra six inches of my board, and they all just fought right back.  After my second-to-last failure, I let out the guttural yell that I hadn’t unleashed since the cracked rib incident back in the fall.



September 20th, 2010 - A day that will live on in infamy.

 This sucks.  My board sucks.  The waves suck.  I suck.  I’m evidently NOT meant to be a surfer.  Finally, I allowed Mother Nature to have her win and I paddled/drug my board in.  Ted was still grinning as I was walking up because even though he knew the dramatic scene that was about to unfold, it must have been soooo worth it to see the hilariously pathetic show I put on in the water. 

“Hey baby!” he greeted me. 

“Well that was a waste of an afternoon,” I replied leering through my icy hair plastered across my face.  “I’m so glad I took off early!”

The LG flip phone...love that baby.

See, I’ve been told recently that I’m allowing myself to be “consumed by my work,” and I’ve heard the word workaholic used to describe me more than once now.  But up until this job, I thought “workaholics” were executives who wear $200 shoes and sport blackberries on their hips.  But I neither am an executive, nor have $200 shoes – and my un-smart phone was $19.99 when I bought it two years ago!  I just have a, you know, work ethic, so as my work continues to grow, taking off early can be pretty tricky.  But I’m not allowing my job to consume me!

Back to the beach.

As I huffed my board – and my attitude – up the sand, I realized how exhausted I was.  Even with the seething rage that normally gives someone super hero-like energy, I was utterly spent.  So I did what any reasonable, almost-30-year-old does; I dropped my board, then my body, onto the sand, and crossed my arms over my face.

That’s when it happened, that’s when Crybear came out…in full force.  With the ridiculous tears coming out of my eyes, I dramatically uttered, “Why does everything have to be so hard?  All I wanted to do was ride one wave!”

It was so sad.  I knew it was sad…which just made it sadder – as if that were a word.  Standing over me with his rolled-up chinos, Ted didn’t really know what to say, though I’m pretty sure he was trying not to laugh.  Instead he reminded me that I almost got up “that one time” and told me how impressed he was that I was willing to get out in that water.  He thought it showed heart. 

Bless that man. 

So we talked about my placement on the board and ended up working on my form.  Before I knew it, I was smiling again, practicing pop ups on the beach.  The blood had returned to my extremities and the sky was beginning to pinken with the forthcoming sunset. 

Today was an ok day.

May As Well Still be Wearing Hiking Boots - January 2, 2011

We just got back from a trip over to Jacksonville to visit Ted’s family and there have been reports that the surf was going to be on today.  Between my new board and the booties my dad and stepmom gave me for Christmas, I was ready. 

When we got to the beach, I saw a lineup unlike any that I’ve seen before.  There were probably 30 guys in the water, many of whom were doing some seriously impressive “shredding.”  This is essentially the opposite of the longboard wave riding I mentioned in my Thanksgiving post.  Shredding refers to the cuts that shortboarders make back and forth across a wave but there has to be enough wave in order to pull this off.  Today, there was definitely that.

There’s only one thing more intimidating than walking up to a surf that’s bigger than anything you’ve seen, and that’s when there are plenty of (good) surfers to watch you get your A handed to you.   Adding to that was the fact that I hadn’t been out since Thanksgiving and it’s now a whole lot colder than it was on that 70-degree day.  The water temperature is now 58° and I don’t believe the air temp got over 52° today.  To make matters worse, there was no sun to warm up the black neoprene of my wetsuit, which was supposed to insulate me from the dark gulf waters.

As we took our first few steps into the water, I was very thankful I had booties and I wished I had something for my hands.  My first few paddles were painful, but I guess they eventually acclimated…that, or went numb.

It felt weird, paddling on a shorter board.  I wasn’t really sure how far up I should be, but I know my toes touch the very back of Greenie, so I figured I’d go for the same on Olive.  Wrong.  Because this board is six inches shorter, I should really be further back with my feet hanging off the board. 

I didn’t put this together until the end of the session; therefore, I spent most of my time out there pearling because I was too far forward on my board.  Getting worked in these waves was not fun.  Not only did each nose dive lead to a shock of cold water shooting down my back (it doesn’t take much of a gap for water to get in), but the force of these big waves sent me tumbling like a ragdoll in someone’s Maytag.

Somewhere in the middle of the session, as we were sitting in the lineup watching some ridiculously good surfing, I saw a guy who I recognized…sort of.  It’s hard to place people when they’re in wetsuits, their hair’s wet, and their lips are blue, not the mention the fact that my eyes were bleary from the cold – at what temperature do ones eyes begin to freeze?  But right before he caught a wave that he launched off the back of doing a 360, I realized it was Warren Smith.  I went to high school with him, after which he went on to surf professionally and has enjoyed several appearances in surf magazines.  Not kidding. 

Yep, that's him, on the cover of Surfer magazine...doing an aerial, no less.

Last I heard he was in South America, or South Africa…or was it the South Pacific?  I’m not sure – but I’m pretty sure he’s been all over the world to surf and probably the one time I’ll ever see him in the lineup, I looked like it was my first time on a surfboard.  When he paddled back out, he went to a different spot so I didn’t have the chance to say something cool like, “Hi, do you remember me from high school?  I had frizzy hair back then and would occasionally wear hiking boots to class.” 

After about 45 minutes in the water, Ted and I were both so cold that we could hardly move.  So we paddled in, wearing the word defeated across our backs.  I’ve never experienced this before, paddling in without at least one wave.  Even if I could only catch a sad excuse for one, I’d at least get one.  But I was crazy weak.  As we were walking up the beach, Ted actually had to help me step up on the sand cliff that I usually have no problem with.  I just didn’t have any gas left in the tank.  

When we got back to the car, my hands, now purple, were shaking so badly that he had to put up my board for me.  They continued to shake involuntarily the entire 15-minute drive home (even with the heat on).  Once we got back, I struggled for about 10 minutes to take off my booties.  In fairness, it was hard for me to get them off when I first tried them on during the Christmas morning gift exchange; so getting them off with shaking hands and zero strength was a real trick.  

At one point, I considered just getting in the tub (filled with hot water), then after I had warmed up, I’d try and tackle them again.  But the more I thought about it, the more I knew I wouldn’t live that down (the fact that I kept them on for the ride home was bad enough).  So pride enabled me to muster up one last fit of strength to get them off.

I don’t think I’m going to wear anything but wool for the next few months days.   You know I can’t stay away from the waves for that long.

Christmas Came Early! - December 23, 2010

Oh boy, oh boy!  What a MAGICAL time of year!!!  My first Christmas as a surfer has been full of all sorts of sugarplum fairies (only these fairies were wearing board shorts) and it began on the 23rd when I arrived at Ted’s for our Christmas dinner. 

I had just come from getting my fourth-ever pedicure – seriously, why pay for those when you can do them yourself (without the risk of a weird bacterial infection from the foot tubs) – and was met with the aroma of lamb and butternut squash roasting in the oven.  Ted’s got a serious aptitude for the culinary side of life, I’m learning. 

When I walked by the wall where he mounts his snowboard, I immediately noticed something different all together: a surfboard with decorations shaped like giant Christmas lights hanging from it! 

It’s a gorgeous 7’ Kane Garden board.  Even though it’s only half a foot shorter than Greenie, that makes a big difference on a surfboard.  It’s yellow on top and olive on the bottom with a fin system that allows for a thruster or quad setup (meaning three fins or four).  I’ve been thinking about going down to a shorter board that’s more maneuverable, and this is perfect because it will certainly be easier to turn, yet it will still be super stable because of its fish shape, which are wider in the middle than at the nose and tail.

A 7' Fish should be a perfect next board

I could barely sit still through dinner because I was so excited about my new board.  I wanted to take it out RIGHT THEN!!  Once we finished our roasted lamb with mint jelly, we moved to the living room to open gifts.  Now, since I already had my big gift for the year, I figured it would be all socks and book marks from there on out.  Not so.  One of the packages he wrapped was suspiciously large.  Not that size is an indicator – my brother is famous for disguising small things in big boxes (gift card in an old VCR box, anyone?) – but this time the size of the package wasn’t a decoy…

It was an Indo Board!!  Ted’s been telling me about these for six months now and I’ve been dying to try my hand at one.  Indo Boards are trainers for board sports because they help with balance and board control.  They are roughly the length of a skateboard, but much wider, and you lay them over a cylinder like a see-saw before standing on it. This is where the balance practice comes in.

To get on it, you first step on the side of the board that’s on the floor, then rest the other foot on the side that’s sticking up in the air.  Then you slowly transfer your weight to the second foot while pushing that side of the board down until it’s parallel to the ground.  In order for this to happen, the cylinder must roll slightly so that it’s centered under the board and your weight is distributed evenly...like so:

Well done Tedward

The key is slowly transfer your weight, but that’s the tricky part.  When I first got on it, the board kept flying from one side of the cylinder to the other until I was completely out of control.  The board looked like a pendulum arching back and forth.  It was scary, sure, but so much fun!  Of course when I got overly confident, I flew off and hit the floor with quite a thud.  Luckily, I landed on carpet, so there were no pre-Christmas trips to the ER.

Right before I flew off the board...

I don’t know what I’m more excited about…the surfboard or the Indo Board.  This is up there with the Christmas morning when my brothers and I walked downstairs to find a Go Cart beside the tree.  Really.