One day, I was mighty high in the sky and the next day I would be in the bottom of the pits not knowing what the hell I am doing, and that's the normal mordas operandi for me. This morning, the waves were even bigger on the outside, closing out even bigger and then it was just impossible for me to take off on. I was trying really hard, but every take off resulted either in I being thrown over or just getting put in wash cycles or worse yet, my leg hit by the stupid Rusty fin, and that was so F painful. It was so damn frustrating.
Sometimes I often wonder why I am doing this thing. What a stupid sport!
But I am looking forward to tomorrow.