"Wind's up!" I would cry and then drive frantically to the beach, rig, wade in, sail for sometimes as little as 15 minutes, then wade out, unrig, drive home, and get back to my life, only to keeping peeping lakeward to see if maybe I missed the best wind of the day. It consumed every waking minute.
Now I windsurf a lot less and bike a lot more. And I worry that I'm cheating myself out of the pleasure of regular sailing. But yesterday as I was grinding up the hill at the south end of Glen Lake I decided that I get equal pleasure in biking, in being able to grind up that hill and cruise at 19 mph in the flats and easily ride 30 miles as my daily outing. My legs felt good, the bike was smooth and responsive, and the scenery was lovely. Not Alpe d'Huez, not TdF speeds, but lovely and fun. Perhaps I am trying to ride away from old age; perhaps I won't like biking as much with old weak legs and gaspy lungs. But for now, it feels OK to neglect windsurfing in favor of biking. It's nice not to obsess as much.