Head Up, Ass Down.

There are not too many activities where keeping your butt high is the call. It always seems that dropping the ass, keeping the back straight, bending the knees and lowering that central center of gravity is the right thing to do. It sort of goes along with such chestnuts as "keep your eye on the ball!" and "push through to till the end!" and "breathe!"  It is such a common coaching missive it is hard to imagine anyone forgetting it so quickly. Unless you've never been coached.  I myself was only coached intermittently, always in the nether, twilight edges of sports team culture.  Anyhow. In surfing the same holds true. Keep your eye on the wave, paddle till the end, relax and don't stinkbug.  And it's amazing what will happen when you just stick with it.  Like me, you may have something of a disaster of a working weekend. Getting a late start and taking too long at the hardware store. Nothing quite beats that feeling when you discover one corner of your pad is rotted through and you've got to replace the whole propping.  Then your little mini circular saw dies.  Then you leave the wood out overnight to get rained on. And nothing quite like laying waste to a rabid zombie squirrel with a one wood.  And the waves are shit.  Well, the waves are shit until the last possible moment.  And then they are gloriously shit.  The sort of shit that leaves a big buzzing smile on your face as the autumnal sun sets over the strumming classic rock hits maestro at the Gilgo burger shack.  The sort of gloriously shit waves that make the whole disaster of a working weekend worth every penny of time taken.  The sort of gloriously shit waves to which, as you drift off later that evening, you construct wholly new mnemonically augmented epic ride archival 35 millimeter footage out of the dregs of mixed up semi-swell standard definition video footage.  Oh and did I mention we saved a lost and thoroughly confused swan trying to cross the Sunrise Highway?  We somehow did that too. Big ducks, those. Keep that butt down.