I’m going to Tahiti to cover the Olympics this weekend. And aside from thinking about tropical sunshine and mingling among some of the best surfers in the world, I am pondering a slightly unrelated, selfish question: Am I going to surf?

In an unprecedented move, the Olympic surfing will be held at a small village called Teahupo’o — almost 10,000 miles from Paris. Teahupo’o has become notorious in the surfing world for its reef pass that features one of the planet’s most dangerous, gnarliest left-hand barrels. The wave will be closed during the Olympic window for non-competitors, so it’s unlikely I’ll be able to surf it unless the competition ends early in the waiting period. And even if that scenario does play out, it depends on the conditions. The wave is no joke. I’d make sure the waves are commensurate with my skill level before heaving myself over that bone-shattering reef. Teahupo’o has humbled many pro surfers who are exponentially more skilled than me.

There was a time when I wondered if it was even worth the hassle of lugging around a hefty surfboard bag on this trip. But, of course, the inner surfer in me prevailed in that short-lived debate. I’m bringing two surfboards. It’s anyone’s guess if I’ll be able to use them given the questionable availability of the wave out front. Plus, I’ll be busy doing journalist snooping and won’t have readily available transport to surf other waves (I’ll see how easy or difficult that is to arrange when I’m on the ground). But there’s nothing worse than getting caught without a surfboard when the waves are good. Something tells me I’ll figure it out.

Another reason I wonder if I will use the surfboard: This is not my first rodeo. I brought a surfboard to the Tokyo 2020 Olympics in Japan and only was able to use it one-and-a-half times. The first time I paddled out adjacent to the Olympic venue in the early morning hours only to get kicked out of the water 10 minutes later by the Japanese water patrol. Apparently, I wasn’t allowed to surf there because the medical team hadn’t arrived yet. I wasn’t allowed to go to other beaches either because the COVID protocols limited our movements within the country. My permitted locations included the hotel, the surfing venue, and one random convenience store. If I couldn’t surf at the venue, I wasn’t surfing anywhere.

After my first session failed, I had resigned to the fact that I wasn’t surfing on this trip. But the day after the Olympics changed everything. Once the medal ceremonies wrapped up and all the Olympians went home, on the final day of the trip the conditions cleaned up for an epic staff session. We had to wear special rashguards to enter the water, but we were allowed to surf. In my opinion, the waves were even better than the Olympic competition the previous day — certainly more user-friendly. I stroked my 5’7” fish into a memorably clean wave tickled by a light offshore breeze. Once I hit the inner sand bar the lip curled over me for a few seconds before I exited the barrel, barely even crouching. All the hassle of packing the surfboard and having it take up valuable space in my tatami mat-covered Japanese hotel room had officially become worth it. All it took was one wave.

That Tokyo experience tells me two things: 1) Surfing opportunities will be limited in Tahiti, and 2) if/when the small window of opportunity does arise, I don’t want to be caught without a board.

I am keeping expectations in check. If I don’t surf, it’s ok. If I do, that will be awesome. It doesn’t help that I haven’t ridden a legitimate overhead wave since I was in Costa Rica in April, so it might take a few steep drops to shake off the cobwebs. I’ll do my best to make the most of whatever awaits.