I’m a terrible blogger.

Three mornings ago, I staggered out of the water at Riddle in Manasquan and on the beach two separate groups of yoga practitioners – Yogaists? Yogis? – contorted their bodies in front of the red, rising sun. On the left, a small group stretched out on mats draped across the sand. A large tripod with a camera attached stood over them. I watched as they’d maneuver themselves for the perfect shot and as they’d stop and reposition the camera so the sunrise’s rays would hit different.

On the right was a larger group of yogis. They lay across their mats, legs in the air, eyes closed, paying attention to nothing except their instructor. He’d walk slowly among them, dragging his feet through the sand, asking them to listen to the sounds of the sea rushing to and fro, and then telling them to change their position.

As I watched the smaller, social posting group pack up their online production gear in a wagon, the dichotomy got me thinking. I’m a terrible blogger if I think I’m going to be an “influencer”. I don’t strut into coffee shops and breweries with the mentality that I’m going to share my experience with the masses in real-time. I bring no extra gear. Matter of fact sometimes I don’t even have my phone. I only always carry my notebook and pen.  I don’t intend to let the owners, or the staff, know that I’m there for any other reason than to enjoy their service and whatever I order.

Do I write in the hopes that someone will read my posts? Of course. But just one follower is enough to feel accomplished. I hope I never let the goal of getting readers intrude on the actual goal of combining my love of storytelling with my appreciation of good surf, fresh coffee, and crisp beer.

I’d rather be the yogis on the right.

All that said, I’ve not been a good writer. Consistency is one of the most critical habits of honing the craft. My last post was on April 23^rd, way too long a span for my liking. And you might think that the gap in posts is because I’ve been locked away in my office, a hermit unable to escape. Wrong. I’ve been to a few places. Diverse places. As a matter of fact, I’ve got a catalog of Triple Bs to write and release and would love to know which you’re most interested in hearing about next.

Yet, it is true that work has been all consuming, and for more than a month I’ve been putting in more time than I’d like to admit. But I haven’t been in solitary confinement. I’ve been to Miami, to Arlington, to Chicago and Milwaukee. At each I’ve had the chance to explore the coffee and beer scenes, and at a few I’ve connected with the surf community.

And because the sun rises earlier in New Jersey, I’ve had the chance to surf quite a bit. There’s nothing better than waking up at 4am and being in the ocean by 4:45am, surfing for over an hour, and getting home before anyone else is even awake.

Even so, it’s been so busy that I’ve found myself completely overwhelmed and working all hours of the day, week after week. So last week I did something I rarely do – I surfed alone. I didn’t start off alone. I’d start off with my friends, grabbing waves and having fun. Then they’d head in and I’d stay out. Being alone is only discomforting if you think about it that way. But I started to realize my brain and soul needed it. I’d sit on my board, paddle back and forth, and grab a wave. No words. No sounds except the crashing waves and the occasional squawk of the Oyster Catchers. I don’t recommend it in challenging conditions, but when the swell is small and the sun is young, there’s nothing more cleansing.

So what about a brew of either sort? Well, as I’ve said, I’m not picky. Not in the least. And the best coffee I’ve had in the past few weeks wasn’t in a cafe. During this swirl of a few weeks, the best coffee I had was at home, sitting on the front porch with my wife. It was about 6:45am and I had just come back from a session in Mantoloking. The coffee in our pot was piping hot. I don’t even know what brand it was, but it didn’t matter. The two of sat and chatted for a good 30-minutes before our girls woke up. It was the best brew I’d had in a while, best 30-minutes I’d had in a while. And just what I needed to tackle the rest of the crazy week.