Standup paddleboard has changed my life

As a kid, I dreamed of becoming a full-on beach bum. I'd see guys at the Panhandle and on the East Coasts with shaggy hair, no shoes -- just a pair of shorts and a tan so deep you'd think they got exposed to radiation at the Turkey Point Nuclear Generating Station near Miami.
So when I got out of college, I sold all my shit, loaded up my dog Nico (a great dane) and drove south from my home in Tennessee. I'd never even been to Southwest Florida. All I knew was that I wanted to sail and paddle and surf and fish all the year long.
I started camping at Oscar Scherer Park near Venice. Sent out some resumes, got a job near Fort Myers, got married, raced offshore sailboats, kayak fished like hell for several years, raced outriggers in Fort Lauderdale, dabbled in marathon canoe racing for a couple years. It was all great -- wonderful Florida experiences that I'll always remember.
Then came this standup paddleboard thing.
I took out a Laird 12'1" board in the summer of 2009. Paddled the Gulf of Mexico on a super flat day with a slight breeze and super clear waters. It was mind-blowing, an experience that has changed my life. I could see dolphins swimming below. Sea gulls and pelicans glided about head-high on the water. The ocean surface had long been the domain of sit-down experiences. In a boat, you typically sit. Same in a kayak, canoe, sailboat, etc. But this was different. It felt so much more like a primal, innate experience. Human perspective changes when you actually stand up and look out over the horizon, whatever that horizon may be. I often compare it to the feeling the first upright monkey must have had on that day he finally stood up and looked over the African plains. I'm sure, in his own words, he said my standard line: "Dude, you've got to try this."
Fast forward 18 months and my wife Marcie and I have nine boards in our garage. Our sacred wood strip canoe functions now more as a SUP gear holder than a water craft. I paddled solo canoes (touring and racing) almost exclusively for six or seven years. No more. I haven't paddled a solo canoe or kayak in almost a year, and that was at a charity canoe race with a great friend.
Just last week we opened a business: Southwest Florida Standup. We cover most of coastal Lee County, from Bonita Beach north to Estero Bay, Lovers Key and Fort Myers Beach.
SUP has been sweeping across Hawaii, California and other more-hip places for about a decade now. In Florida, it's still in an infancy stage.
But I feel like I'm in a type of infancy stage as well -- the beginnings of a watersport that will take our region by storm.
Our business and this sport are part of a dream for me and Marcie, something we're stoked about. Something that's so powerful that we're now willing to risk everything to promote this great sport, and, hopefully, revel in some type of profits down the road.
Business aside, nowadays I look a lot like those shaggy-haired, board-short-wearing, barefoot dudes I admired as a kid.
Maybe, just maybe, this beach bum thing will turn up roses after all.