My alarm went off at 5:00 am. At first, I groan, hit the snooze button, and rolled over. Then my mind took over, Are you going to waste this morning? Are you going to be lazy, or are you going to get up and get wet? Throwing back the sheets, the cold steals my comfort. Sitting on the edge of my bed with my head in my hands, stand up in three, two…

The night before, I packed my wetsuit and placed my board near the door. I was ready to step into the darkness for the fun-size swell. The report predicted the kind of waves that get your heart thumping as you race over the face. No coffee needed. I prefer to surf on an empty stomach. I hopped in the car and head north.

Stepping over a few bushes, my feet finally squish into the sand. If anyone else was here, they would be making fun of me for the ear-to-ear grin. Only the foam from the crashing waves is visible through the nighttime blanket. I know this spot well, so I’m not afraid of the paddle out. The bottom is sand until the reef point, the waves are easy to duck-dive, and this was the break I caught my first wave. Memories flood me as I toss my board in the water and begin the paddle. I was 8 years old on my first paddle out. The sun was hot, I had a blue rash guard on, and I was eager to catch the biggest wave possible. After that surf, I went to bed watching the replay of Pipeline’s webcam. Ha! I didn’t even know what Pipeline was when I was downloading it. Diving under my second wave, I was almost outside of the break.

Surfing gave me a different perspective on life. Growing up, I played sports that were individual and time-centric. My goal was to get faster every day. The improvements were apparent; a shorter time from wall to wall equaled success. Surfing wasn’t and still isn’t about that for me. Surfing is an escape. Surfing is a surrender. Surfing is awareness. The only control is how I perform on the wave that is given to me. Poseidon sends waves to the beach like the pulse of the earth's heart. That is what I am trying to ride. Transitioning from the controlled race atmosphere to the uncontrollable open-ocean captured the heart of this eight-year-old.

First light breaks through the clouds and I’m ready for that sunrise wave. Sitting atop my board, my feet move through the water. My hands are disturbing the glassy surface. My eyes are gazing towards the abyss, searching for the wave to come. Staring into the changing light, I see what I want to see. A bump on the horizon. Scooting back to turn my board, I get ready for my morning performance. Laying down, I paddle. The wave catches the back of my board and I’m accelerating. Looking down the face, I know I’ll go airborne as I try to stand. My feet land on the back of the board. Cutting hard right, I’m up. I got out of bed. I paddle out. I’m present.