Dark At 5AM

I wonder what it feels like to be a really good surfer.  A professional grade surfer. It's probably like anything else professional grade, that is, I'm professional grade at what I do professionally, and I am always feeling like I'm messing up, dropping the ball and missing the mark.  So really good surfers probably feel the same way. But then, as a professional grade surfer you probably have that confidence that even when you have a little bit of an off day, someone on the beach is looking at what you're doing thinking "Wow! Look at that professional grade surfer!" Or something like that.  To even get to professional grade anything you have to have that smidgen of hubris somewhere in there.  And frankly I'm passed it, surf wise.  I missed that boat, the window, my chance.  I'm too old to get there.  Too inflexible, too un-nimble, too uncreative, too unconfident.  I have to be content with being one of those guys who can catch waves and not look too kooky doing it.  I have to be content with those one or two waves each session where I do everything right in the eyes of the sea and find that perfect trim or make it all the way around on that cutback. And I have to be content to endure the really off days.  The ones where I can't put two and two together to impress anyone, let alone whatever delusional me that actually believes I ever do get that cutback all the way around.  And I have to be content with the sure knowledge that no one is watching when I do get anything right anyhow, my hopeful glances over the shoulder after skillfully popping out the back a futile hope for a nonexistent public.  No, they are only there when I fall over for no good reason.  Well, this morning I got a bunch of little waves and two fit the bill nicely, thank you. I'll not say which bill.