Surf's Not Waiting

I could read the dedication in their faces. It was a Monday morning. Being from out of town and in no real desire to be kidnapped, assaulted, or robbed I had decided to run my five miles that morning on the astroturf of a soccer field across from my hotel California. As my coaching app declared “workout complete,” twenty men arrived one-by-one onto the soccer field and began rigorously warming up, arguing, and planning their game for the morning. The crisp, excited South American accents flew around faster than that last lap, “You all wear the colored shirts and we will wear the white!” I subconsciously wondered what kind of men have time to play like this on a weekday morning…


Only a couple hours later, more Santa Cruz sun warmed my face and a sea breeze swept back my wet, salty hair. I leaned back on my elbows on the beach blanket and watched the crowds through my aviators. Today the surf was reported to “be at its best for the year.” If I hadn’t heard it on the television in the breakfast room, I could read it now on the sun-tanned faces of men and boys running, rushing, and racing down towards the waves, donning wetsuits as they went. Their eagerness showed in their feet, hands, faces, and wave-craving eyes.

Laying my head down on my leather satchel as another set of bare feet pounded down the sand towards the surf, I asked myself, “What does my face show? What makes me excited and eager? Do I sacrifice my weekday morning responsibilities or work or family for something that I think I love?”

Before I knew it, I was talking to an older homeless man, sitting nearby. I assumed he was in that state by the leather of his skin and the quantity and variety of belongings in a huge duffel by his side.

“You surf?” I asked.

“Oh yeah. All my life. Born and raised here. There’s nothing else but surfing, really.” He turned and smiled at me through the holes in his teeth.

“Nothing else to do, or nothing else to life?” I asked, a little puzzled.

“Nothing as important.” He paused. “Sure, people die—two guys, pros too, last week. But it is the best a man can do. You can’t imagine…” I watched his wrinkled, bearded face as it scanned the waves with intensity.

What do you think is the best a man can do? What would you live for, and make the ultimate sacrifice in doing? For what cause would you forsake all, and even live under a dock? I hope you know. And I hope you are living it today, and not just thinking about it in an abstract, sub-committed trance. We’ve got all kinds of waves to catch—and they aren’t waiting. I hope yours will change the world.