I’ve waited a long 2 years to return to the condo Jan and I own, built on the Pacific sands of Canoa, Ecuador, situated nearly smack dab on the equator in South America. Yes, I wanted to see our lovely home again, but the truth is, I was desperate to snatch up my surfboard and rip on the shoulders of Canoa’s waves. And today, my first time back in the waves in nearly a year, I surfed like I’ve never surfed before.

I mean this literally. I surfed like I‘ve “never” surfed before, and it is hard not to be completely discouraged.

 I went from surfing, as seen on the top pic, a year ago, to surfing as depicted on the second pic.

I know, I know – I guess after a major shoulder injury and the subsequent surgery and physical therapy, it’s to be expected that I’d have lost “some” strength and a little skill while gaining a pound or two. But I wasn’t at all prepared to find I barely had the strength to paddle, let alone pop up and stay on my feet. I’m sure the belly fat didn’t help one bit either.

And then, as if that wasn’t depressing enough, my feet couldn’t find my stick’s center gravity point, and I looked and felt about as graceful as a pirouetting elephant on a beach ball.

While walking back onto the shore, I realized that I needed to accept where I am currently, not where I was a year ago, and decide: “Do I love this sport deeply enough to start as if I’ve never surfed before?” An easy choice.

It is time to drown my pride (what little is left after today’s exhibition), and in the morning, pick up  my surfboard, tuck it under my arm, walk into the shallows while sliding my feet to spook off stingrays and as the water deepens, confidently get back on my board, duck-dive my way to the outside and remind myself as I paddle for my next wave that I must rethink so I might rebuild, to regain what a year ago, I took for granted.