Tumble.

Sometimes you just want to get outside. You want to get outside so bad that nothing will stop you. Wind? Meh. Cold? Whatever. Sixty-five degree water? I'm tough. Overhead waves and washing machine surf? Poseidon's got nothing on me.

Deciding to brave those particular conditions on a paddleboard and without a wetsuit is at best foolhardy and at worst a recipe for hypothermia.

Wading into the waves, it didn't seem all that bad; a little cold but whatever. I'm standing on the board so I'm relatively safe. Getting past the first break of sloppy 2-3 foot closers was a little difficult but nothing was going to stop Ryan and me from getting out the bigger swells that lied ahead.

When the first overhead roller hits your board in just the wrong way and sends you flailing into the surf; that's when the enveloping chill of the winter waters permeates every inch of your uninsulated body. Shock. Adrenaline. A hint of panic.

Then the next one hits. Same feeling. The same shock.

We get back on our boards and try our best to make our egos and pride overpower the surf. The ocean doesn't care. It's having fun sending us flying back into the water. After 10 or 15 minutes we wave our white flags and try to ride whatever we can on our knees for the one hundred fifty yard journey back to shore, dry clothes and hot drinks.

It was worth a shot and we'll be back another day when the Atlantic is feeling more forgiving. In the meantime we'll choose our battles better be better prepared. We were just happy to be outside doing something.

This cough I've developed needs to go the hell away by then.

Cheers!