It was a cold day in the water. I think we're going through our first drop in temperature of the season, and the offshore winds typically push the clouds out into the ocean. This means the sun's energy is radiated into space, since there is no blanket of clouds to hold in the heat.
I decided to paddle out even though the waves were still small (as expected) and the crowd was out in force (also as expected). There are times when the cold will make the stoke meter will point ever-so-gingerly to the red (HA!), meaning I won't paddle out.
This is due to the scores of winter sessions I've endured during which I rue the moment I decided to get out of my comfy surf check gear and slip on my wetsuit. The plus side of the equation, is the precipitous drop in head count.
The reason for all this "I was cold" hubaloo is to illustrate how much of a pussy I felt when a girl paddled out in one of those I'm-wearing-a-fullsuit-but-my-asscheeks-are-out wetsuits.
I didn't catch any waves, save for some forgettable near-shorebreak racy waves/closeouts, in the first hour.
Eventually, I got a look at a double-up and tucked into the tube. I'm happy to say I was in the right spot of the wave and the barrel spun around me for over a second before I reached my destiny toward the sand.
My teeth were chattering out of control and I was over it after about seventy-five minutes.