My name is Ryan and I am a boofaholic. Ever since my first boof back in the early millennium I haven't been able to quit. I search out every rock, pourover, dead mule, or whatever may be in my path, in hopes of catching air in my boat. It has been very distructive to my personal life. I have lost jobs, friends, and lovers due to my addiction. I have destroyed many a river vessels and caused many dollars worth of damage to myself a equipment. I have miscalculated strokes and hit rock bottom. I have lived on the streets and in dirtbag camps. I have woken up next to kayaks I couldn't recognize, realizing I had actually been "in" them. I now know that none of this is my fault, my jobs sucked, my friends were assholes, and you know what? I always felt satisfied after being with a lover as long as I was out the door and on the river before she woke up. Hitting rock bottow has always been better than any day not on the river. So fuck recovery! I will get cold sweats and shake profusely until that next sweet moment when that perfect launching platform sends me aloft and into liquid bliss.