Is the grass always greener?
Now this is a serious question. Would you? Imagine how many hours you’ve spent in the water, perfecting the little things like balancing your board when paddling so its nose neither points straight to heaven nor dives beneath the brine. Or popping up sans nobs and also without a hitchy knee nor hobbled stutter.
Duck diving.
The hours upon hours pushing first with hitchy knee in middle then graduating to foot on tail, gliding underneath the most menacing white wash barriers.
I could go on and on all day here without even arriving at actual surfing. Actually standing on a wave and gliding upon its surface.
It’s the little things that make surfing so difficult to master and the bigger things too.
So would you trade it all, the hours, the pain, but also the elation, the singular glories to be like the Moroccan/New York rapper French Montana if you could live like him too?
Would he trade his life for yours?
Much to ponder.
