Life and Times of an Aspiring Angler

I walk out of the shop at 2 in the morning, look out at the frozen earth bathed in moonlight and realize I'm this close to living the dream. I hear the crunch of the stiff grass under my feet as I leave the office for the day. It's hard to sleep lately so I find myself immersed in tackle at all hours of the night. Sunny skies and Okeechobee on my mind. My first big event just days out. Days.

Days filled with hard labor at part time jobs and phone calls during lunch to lawyers, accountants, and potential sponsors. Setting up an LLC and making sure that I prevent Uncle Sam from getting more than his fair share. Negotiating deals to say this or do that for a little tackle and a foot in the door. Drained of energy. Money. Though oddly enough happy as a lark.

This is the life and times of an aspiring angler. I knew that coming in. I'm not surprised that I can't even get a hold of both ends let alone make them meet. To expect to this early on would be naive. It takes a little hardship along the way to make a person grateful for ground gained. What does the finish line represent without the race?

Instead I'm happy just to be allowed to dream. And to have the chance to chase a dream, that's life at its best. Sure cliches will come. They will show me how they gained their notoriety. Blood, sweat, and tears will be shed. I will lose the one that got away. I will eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches til I'm sick. I will be down to my last dime. At some point I'm sure I'll sleep in my truck... again. 

But this is my dream. And I dream because I know others are guilty of dreaming too. Important others. Others that are capable of helping another young dreamer's dream along. And I'd hate to know the only reason my dream didn't come true is because I didn't take the time to believe in it. Make the hurried phone calls, toy with tackle at 2 in the morning, fight off the cliches. To think that someone even might be there waiting for a dreamer to come along, well isn't that reason enough?