Winter has a way of making things quiet.

The calendar clears, the races thin out, and the pressure eases — just enough for the bigger questions to bubble up. The ones that don’t fit inside a training block or gear checklist.

Like: What am I aiming for now?
Or: Where did those old dreams go?

Connecting more with the waters of my youth and the people who frequent it.

Sunrise off the coast of Mission Bay with Akarana Paddlers

I’ve been asking myself those questions lately. Not out of crisis, but curiosity. The truth is, a lot has changed. Life is full. Business is full. My paddle fitness fluctuates more than I’d like. But underneath it all, the spark is still there — that love of movement, of water, of ideas born in winter when the days are slow and the coffee’s still warm in your hands.

I don’t think goals ever disappear. They just sink a little deeper when the noise turns up. Winter is one of the rare seasons when you can hear them again.

This time of year, I find myself scheming. Quietly. Tentatively. There are dreams that got buried, and new ones forming that don’t yet have names. That’s okay. Nothing has to be set in stone. There’s plenty to work around: family, time, weather, motivation. But I’m still tapped in.

Tapped into my love of paddling.
Tapped into the admiration I feel watching others chase huge, courageous goals.
Tapped into an industry that’s growing and shifting, not just commercially, but culturally, as more people search for something real.

Because in a world increasingly shaped by screens, algorithms and automation, people are seeking something raw, something human, something connected.

You can see it in the way paddlers show up. The way clubs all over the country feel more social again than previous years. You can feel it in the race stories, the community efforts, and the friendships built in the in-between.

This winter, I don’t have a set plan for my paddling. But I do have space. Space to dream again. To shape something new. To remember that it doesn’t have to be perfect to be powerful, it just has to start somewhere.

Maybe you’re feeling the same. Maybe it’s time to pause, look ahead, and whisper a new goal into the cold air. One that makes you feel something.