Lately, I keep grabbing the simplest surfboard I own.
I’m fortunate to have my dream quiver of fiberglass surfboards. Boards built for noseriding, boards that turn harder, boards that go faster.
But lately, I find myself grabbing my R-Series Joy more and more.
I have a theory why.
I used to go surfing with a list of goals: better turns, more waves, more style. And as those goals changed, my quiver expanded. I wanted boards that were looser, faster, snappier, better at one thing or another.
These days, I think I’m asking something different from surfing.
Maybe it's having three kids and what feels like more than that many jobs to juggle, but most of the time when I go surfing—or mountain biking, or trail running—I don't really want another thing to get better at.
I just want to go.
And increasingly, I find myself drawn to equipment that disappears.
The bike I don't have to think about. The surfboard I know is going to paddle well, catch a bunch of waves, and work in whatever mediocre conditions are waiting for me at the beach.
Something that asks very little of me.
Maybe that's why trail running seems to be having a moment. Maybe it's part of why I've noticed more people bodysurfing lately. Or maybe I'm just noticing those things because they make sense to me right now.
There's something appealing about stripping away the equipment, expectations, and performance and just going outside for a while.
And maybe that's why, surrounded by all these beautiful fiberglass surfboards I've spent 17 years helping create, I keep walking out the door with the foam one.
It's the board I grab when I don't want anything from surfing other than to go surfing.
