On Surfing.

I surfed a couple times when I was young but wasn’t ever any good… but for some reason I kept wanting to try again, and again, and again.  Somehow, for reasons surpassing understanding, I really love it, even though, as I will endeavor to explain, it’s an absolutely ridiculous thing for me to be doing.

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The first reason surfing is a ridiculous thing for me to be doing: I am terrible at it.  I mean, really terrible.  I am the opposite of a natural, it took me weeks to get beyond the most beginner of waves and I still struggle to stand up on the board even though I’ve had dozens of lessons in many locations and countries. I struggle to get my balance, to pop up fast enough, to read the waves, to trust my body.

But for me, with surfing….  there’s something about intentionally doing something I’m not naturally good at.  As kids but even more so as adults we tend to shy away from things we’re terrible at, whether it be because we don’t want to look bad in front of others or we don’t like the feeling of disappointment when we fail, but in general, the activities we are drawn towards spending our time doing are activities where we have a reasonable assumption of skill, or at least we are confident we can hold our own.

And there’s something just raw and honest about going out and doing this thing, with others (I’m always surfing with others who will know if I get into trouble or get eaten by a shark) that I know I’m going to quite possibly be absolutely terrible at, because I like it. Yes, I get frustrated when I have a bad series and can’t seem to get my feet under me or feel I should be doing better than I am.  But to get out there and continue to literally fall on my face, get up, and try again, over and over and over and over… it’s good for my ego, and reminds me that even though I’m terrible at something doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it anyway.

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The second reason surfing is a ridiculous thing for me to be doing: I am afraid.  Every time I face the waves I get that pit of fear deep in my stomach and I have to convince myself once again I am not going to drown.

Now, I know I’m a strong swimmer and I grew up on lakes and in and around water.  And I don’t generally surf in particularly dangerous locations.  But I am afraid of getting injured (my nearly-40-year-old-body reminds me of the fact that no matter how much I try to imagine I’m still 22 I am not). I know two people in entirely separate incidents who were paralyzed by a freak wave accident and I know many more who have emerged bloody or broken or bruised. I’ve been tossed around in deep water until I couldn’t tell which way was up and I have felt the power of the water crashing over me.  I’m afraid of being thrown into rocks or reef, of not being able to find the surface, of the board hitting me in the face, or any one of dozens of other possibilities.

But there’s something about acknowledging the fear and doing it anyways.  Not in a reckless way, but in an intentional choice of reducing risk and to not let fear get the best of me.  Someone said something once that has always stuck with me; fear is welcome in the room, but not welcome at the decision table. Fear can speak into the conversation, and can be an element in wisdom, but does not get to say yes or no. I think a little bit of fear is a good thing; and as I have to remind myself quite often, fear is not the boss of me, love is the boss of me. 

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So for some reason I keep doing this thing that I am simultaneously afraid of and terrible at; and some days, like Wednesday, I think to myself maybe I should stop trying to be a surfer. The waves were a bit crazy and I couldn’t seem to get my feet under me and I got frustrated with myself for being unable to do something that seems so easy. But then I have days like Friday, where the water is just right and my body remembers what it’s doing and I catch some really beautiful waves while the dolphins are jumping just beyond, and it’s such a rush that I forget about all the hard days and only look forward to the next good one.  There was one day a few weeks ago when I was on the dolphin coast that was amazing, I caught everything and my feet were under me and I was flying the whole day and even after a terrible day the next day, where the conditions were tough and I was thrown into the rocks and left the water less than halfway through the pre-determined session, I didn’t care. Because I was still buzzing from the day before, and even now I think of that day and I get a feeling of accomplishment, and can’t wait to feel that way again. 

And there’s something absolutely meditative about surfing; I can’t think of anything else when I’m out there. It’s one of the few times I’m not multitasking or feeling stressed or anxious about this work problem or that relationship or whatever else is running my brain. I am solely focused, body, mind, and heart, feeling my body and mind get stronger with every effort, every fall, every scare, every beautiful wave.

So here I am, emerging from the water with numb toes and ears full of salt water I’m thinking about the next time. I’m strategically planning my strength training sessions to help make the next time easier, stronger, faster, better.  And, after a particularly rough day, I remind myself that I have nothing to prove; I am not out there to impress anyone or to be a great surfer. A good day might include a lot of really good waves, and it might also include a lot of really bad falls, because I still showed up and gave it my all.