Surfing

Old dog, new trick.

(I looked nothing like this)

On Thursday, I surfed.

Or, more accurately: On Thursday, I attempted to surf.

My mom had bought me (and my 14 year old son) a surfing lesson as a way to add some fun to our vacation week.

To be honest, I was dreading the experience a bit. I was nervous and slightly annoyed that I had to feel nervous during my vacation. (I feel nervous most of the time in my regular life so I try to avoid it while on vacation.) I woke up early thinking of the lesson — and trying to figure out a way out of it.

I didn’t succeed. At 10 am we marched down to the beach and met our instructor. He was a guy in his late 20s or early 30s. He’d grown up on the island where I was staying and had that look of someone who knows his way around the water.

He showed us on shore how you lay on the board, paddle and then jump up and surf. It looked a lot like this — with me in the Jason Segel role.

It seemed relatively — dare I say it — easy?

Then we hit the water. Which is when the trouble started.

I was actually ok paddling out beyond the (relatively tame) waves. Then he told us to sit on our board so we could better look for waves to surf.

Um, no. I couldn’t sit on the board without falling over. (Balance has never been my strong suit.) My son, who is 33 years my junior, mastered this skill without even thinking. Youth is wasted on the young!

As I was slipping and sliding into the water, he actually caught his first wave — with the help of a little push from our teacher. He fell but looked, generally, like he knew what he was doing.

It took me another 10 minutes — minimum — to figure out how not to fall off my board. At which point I had maneuvered myself into a spot to try to catch a wave.

Which I did! A few paddles and I was away — coasting along with the wave. I popped up — and promptly fell over. On my back. And then flipped underwater. As the board hit me in the back.

Swing and a miss!

I eventually gathered myself (and my board) and went back out into the waves. And, while paddling out (and trying not fall off the board, be eaten by a shark or have a heart attack) I, well, pulled a muscle in my side/chest. (Reader: I am not young.)

You’ll be happy — or at least surprised — to know that I powered through. I caught four or five more waves. But I never mastered standing up smoothly. I would get three quarters of the way up and then fall. Or halfway up and then fall. Or, one time, I decided not even to try to stand up. That was a fail too as the board nose-dived (nose-dove?) into the ground and I went flying while, amazingly, gulping in half of the ocean in the process.

About 45 minutes into our hour-long lesson, I called it quits — and just sat on my board, watching my son get closer and closer to actually surfing.

I had two main thoughts from the experience.

1. It’s amazing — and joyful — to watch your kids do athletic things, and realize the advantages youth confers.

2. I was proud of myself for trying. I was nervous at first and not terribly good at surfing but I tried. Which, I like to think, sets the right example for my kids — that life isn’t always about results but often about your willingness to go through the process.

Did I take a nap after our lesson? Yup. Does my chest hurt from where I pulled the muscle? Oh you bet it does.

But, I will sleep well tonight knowing I tried. And trying in life — no matter how old you are — still matters the most.