The horror

Getting up at 5:30 on Sunday morning never feels good.  If you’ve had a few drinks the night before, it feels even worse.  As you drag yourself out of bed, into the car and start the drive down to Balmoral, quite often the same thought is spinning around your head.  ‘Why the hell am I doing this’.

The reflection

Then you see the sun rise over Sydney Harbour, and a little bit of you feels better.  Before you know it, all your paddling mates are gathered around, having a chat, getting the canoes ready, and you’re starting to feel almost perky.

The realisation

Then before you know it you’re out on the water, surfing the swells, battling the conditions, and paddling with all your might, usually with a backdrop of either Sydney Harbour Bridge, Manly, Bondi, the Opera House or something else mindblowing, and you’re thinking, hey, this is pretty awesome.

A few hours later, your drying off in the sunshine laughing with your mates over a coffee and well-earned breakfast, while the rest of the world is still waking up, and you know what.  You wouldn’t have swapped your morning for all the tea in China.

The memory loss

Then the next week you go through exactly the same routine again, and so it continues…