No paddling this weekend

So I chickened out. I did not paddle out this weekend after all. I met Annika at the pier bright and early on Saturday morning and it was cold. Really cold. There was a stiff offshore breeze blowing and the high tide swamped everything rolling in, causing the waves to break right on shore, not that that mattered to me since I was only “paddling”. We stood around for about 1/2 an hour and watched, and we were both very uninspired. I told a couple of other people hanging out and waiting to see if the conditions improved as the tide turned that I was thinking of paddling out, and when they heard it had only been 7 weeks since surgery, they were like, “No, don’t risk it. It’s too soon. It’s not worth it.” I then proceeded to talk myself out of it. It had less to do, however, with the act of paddling. That, I was certain, wouldn’t be a problem. It had more to do with getting into, and more specifically, out of the wetsuit that I was afraid of. Frozen clawed hands grabbing at thick, difficult to maneuver neoprene was what sealed the deal for me. I did not want to wreck my new shoulder by trying to pull my way out of my 4/3mm wetsuit with frozen hands. And Annika was not inspired at all to paddle out either. So instead, we went to breakfast for a big chow down.

Gametime decision and I just didn’t feel up to it. (Neither did my man, LT).

At least for me, there is always next weekend…