Imagine you’re a passionate surfer with over 30 years of experience. The ocean is your playground. You cannot stay away from it for more than a week.

Whenever you’re at the waterfront staring at your cherished sea, you cannot help but rate and analyze the quality and perfection of each and every wave that pops and breaks here and there.

Waves have driven your life.

Now, imagine you’re out there on a beautiful day, all by yourself. You know the swell period is long – 15-18 seconds – and you’ve been waiting for half an hour for the dream wave.

You’ve adjusted your position, the triangulation has been checked, and your eyes are carefully monitoring the horizon for potential set waves.

Suddenly, you see “it” coming. It’s traveling steadily and solidly toward you.

The process initiates, as it always does: you switch to prone mode, give it a couple of arm strokes to match the wave’s peak and start paddling harder to accompany the wave’s speed.

“Everything in its right place,” just like Radiohead titled one of their most iconic songs. You’ve done it thousands of times.

Your heart starts racing, not because of fear but because of a subtle and slightly uncomfortable anxiety.

It’s because you want to take it. You want to surf it. You know it’s rare. You know it’ll be just for you and nobody else. You feel it’s been gifted by a superior entity. It’s the surfer’s uneasiness kicking in.

In a few seconds, time ceases to exist in your brain.

You enter a stage of suspended animation; a senseless limbo and trance where you’ve shut yourself down from all the dimensions of your life, except this one.

It’s just you and a wave that you clearly reckon could define your existence as a surfer. As the potentially historical wave gets closer to the tail of your surfboard and feet, you intensify your paddling.

You’re not sure your arm power is enough, and for a split second, you regret not practicing swimming more in the past six months.

“I must stay in shape all year round,” your brain tells you. But you’ve been in this situation before, and you’ve managed to get into waves like this.

One Last Push

By now, your surf watch indicates 130 BPM, noting that both your anxiety and your physical effort are being pushed way up.

It’s the final moment. It’s either ride or die.

You’ve almost entered the wave, but you have not yet felt that decisive and indescribable kick from the moving energy mass that tells you to pop up and glide.

As the pupils of your eye dilate, you apply two last power strokes inside the water to try and propel yourself into a dreamy, glassy A-frame wave.

As you complete them, you force the take-off and pop up just as the undulating, unbroken ripple crosses the finish line ahead of the tip of your surfboard.

Instantaneously, your world crumbles, and a swell of frustration, disappointment, and bitterness fills all the gaps in your surfer soul.

You’ve lost it. You’ve died on the beach, like a sailor who survived all possible storms and ordeals at sea, only to perish in the warm sands of terra firma.

You won’t have a surfer story to tell. You won’t have the memory of the wave of a lifetime within you. You won’t have a reason to be proud of your surfing journey.

You have no alternative whatsoever but to admit defeat and bow before Nature’s relentless will. Yes, you’ve lost the ultimate perfect wave at a time in your life when you really needed it to get back on your feet again.

Darkness Within a Sea of Light

The chronicles of unsuccess and failure are the shadow cast by modern world surfers on surf culture.

They never or rarely see the light of day because they’re somber and unappealing, the exact opposite of surfing’s sunny face.

But, to me, they’re also a piece of the jigsaw puzzle of our very personal surfing life.

We need to reflect on darkness to cherish light.

Whenever you miss a wave like this, find the possible comfort in the “we” of it all. You’re not alone. We feel for you, your tears, and your loss.

But wait – I see something coming out-the-back… Is that…

Words by Luís MP | Founder of SurferToday.com