Surfing. Doesn’t it look amazing? Imagine how it feels to be standing on a board, the power of the wave swelling behind you, the speed as you race towards the beach, the feel of your muscles working, the physicality, the graceful dance with the seductive ocean.
I want some of that. I want to feel the heady rush as I catch a wave and burst to my feet in a single, smooth movement. I want to run down the beach with my board under my arm, unable to contain myself to a walk because I am simply too excited to get out there. Just a girl and her board, the simplicity, the uncomplicated equation.
But it is complicated. I’m afraid of waves. I’m terrified of being further out in the water than chest deep, and even then I can only go that far if the ocean is flat, I can’t even tell if there is a rip. I don’t look like a surfer, I’m not athletic, I don’t speak their language and frankly surfers look scary.
Yet I really want to surf.
I turned 40, realised I wasn’t getting any younger, and I’d never know if I didn’t give it a go. So I did.
I started surfing lessons and discovered that far from being the aggressive, insular, frightening beings I long thought them to be, surfers are actually lovely. They’re misunderstood evangelists. They can’t wait to include you, to show you how great this sport is, what it feels like to stand on a board and feel part of the magnificent ocean. Their enthusiasm is infectious. They want you to understand the joy, the freedom, the unadulterated delight they experience when riding a wave. I have never received so much encouragement as I have when learning to surf.
Now, I need to say, I am not a natural when it comes to hanging ten. I’m still afraid, and I don’t have the strength or the will to paddle out alone, but I love it. I don’t ‘pop’ to my feet, I take the knees-first route, which is slower, far less graceful and certainly not impressive, but gets results. I am natural-footed, and my instructor has complemented my balance, remarking “If you can get to your feet, you can surf for days”.
With this encouraging thought in mind, I look behind, see the wave swelling behind me and begin furiously paddling. My board lifts and gathers speed. I can feel my fear being beaten and overcome by joy. Maybe this is enough? I can ride in to shore on my stomach, that’s fun too. But no, that’s not what I came for. I work to my feet and sail towards the beach, remembering to take my time but not to wait (it’s so complicated getting this timing right!) I’m conscious of the small things, the feel of the board beneath my toes, the slight drag of the leg rope, the warmth of the wetsuit, the glare of the sun, the beating of my heart and my surprisingly steady breath.
I keep my mantra in my head as I surge towards the sand (knees bent, don’t look down, look at the beach, RELAX) I’m on my feet this time for so long, I need to make decisions. Up to now, just getting up has been an achievement, but this time it’s different, I’m up, I have my balance and I still have wave to spare. So I take a risk and try turning. Just once. I swear it’s almost as though the ocean and I were having a conversation, no, make that singing a duet. I feel entirely in sync with my board, the water and my joy. There is no room in my head for anything else except this moment, this feeling, right now. I get a glimpse of what it’s like to be a ‘real’ surfer. I recognise that exhilarating sense of freedom and delicious abandon I have been searching for. I did it. I surfed a wave.
I hit the beach, look back out across the breaks, and fist-pumping the air is my instructor, as excited as I am that I have finally turned, and not just on the white water but on a green wave. I get my breath, paddle back out and enjoy the congratulations of the other surfers behind the break. They give me advice and encouragement, and when I’m ready to tackle my next wave, push me ahead of them to make sure I have a clear run and won’t be intimidated. It’s a community and it’s welcoming and it’s awesome.
I’ve always been up for learning something new, or spreading the knowledge and teaching others. But this is the first time I’ve committed to mastering something that thrills and terrifies me in equal measure. I’ve learned how hard it is to put yourself well outside your comfort zone, to not only make yourself vulnerable, but to push every part of you towards learning a new skill. Being an absolute beginner again is hard work, but so very worth it.
For me surfing is a weekend pursuit, but it makes such a difference to my state of mind during the working week. Emotionally I feel lighter, physically I feel stronger and the bragging rights I win give me the chance to elicit admiration and awe from my colleagues. I highly recommend it.
I don’t run down the beach to the waves, my soft top board is a little heavy for that but I now have my own wetsuit. I’m still learning, not sure I’ll ever have the confidence to tackle the waves completely on my own, but that’s ok. It takes time, tenacity and the encouragement of your tribe. I’ve got all three.
