What Surfing Taught Me About Life
You can learn a lot from something you suck at.
I watched the movie Blue Crush for the first time recently and ugly cried.
Watching people surf brought up so many feelings. It caught me off guard.
I learned to surf while I was living in Australia in 2020. Now, I’m back in the middle of Canada where the air hurts your face.
I love and miss the ocean, hence the tears.
I still sucked pretty hard at surfing by the time I moved away, but that’s unsurprising. A longtime surfer once said to me you have to surf four times a week, for a year straight, before you’re more than a beginner.
At the time, hearing this took the pressure off. The progression would come through repetition and perseverance. There was nothing I could do to force it, so I relaxed.
My goal wasn’t to be good — that was unrealistic for a long time to come. My goal was to enjoy the experience, which is why it taught me so much.
Here’s what I learned from learning to surf:
Respect the ocean.
Acceptance is the path of least resistance.
You can’t go into the ocean with demands or expectations. You can’t wish the waves were different.
All you can do is surf what the ocean is serving hot and fresh that day, or get out of the damn water.
There was a beach I went to quite a bit with a current that tended to carry you away from where you should be surfing. I was told I would tire myself out if I tried to paddle against it; I was better off letting the waves carry me to the beach, walking around and hopping back in.
I insisted on paddling against the current, and the ocean showed me no mercy.
Eventually, I left my ego on the beach.
I surrendered and saved my energy. As a result, I caught more waves.
Nonacceptance = torture. Trust me.
Eating sand is part of the fun.
Your enjoyment depends on your attitude.
A month after moving down under, I went to a surf camp on Australia’s East Coast for a week where we surfed up to six hours a day. I can honestly say that’s the most sand I’ve ever had in and around my body and/or existence.
On the first day, I bailed face-first into the ocean floor and ate sand. By day four, my body was covered in sand burns.
There are no short cuts in surfing.
You can’t opt-out of sucking, looking stupid or swallowing saltwater.
You have two choices: get frustrated and quit, or get excited about being terrible.
I chose the latter. That way, when I surfed for two hours and only stood up on one wave, it was still a win. I wore my sand burns and board rash as badges of honour.
Every surf was good because I showed up and did it.
You have to struggle through the small waves to surf the big ones.
The little struggles prepare you for the big ones.
I learned to paddle out to the back — where you catch ‘green’ waves — on a windy day. The breaking waves were so strong it took me FOR-EVE-RRRR.
By the time I got back there, I thought my arms were going to fall off. The idea of catching a wave and doing it all over again wasn’t appealing. So I sat on my board, enjoyed the view, and watched the sky light up with lightning (a true YOLO moment).
I’m glad I pushed myself that day, but it also showed me I wasn’t ready. I went back to surfing the small stuff close to shore after that.
Surfing green waves is a skill that requires patience and practice.
You have to sit out there, watch/read the waves and wait. You have to be a strong paddler so you can get enough momentum to get in front of the wave.
How do you become good at those skills?
Surfing the shallow stuff and doing a ton of paddling.
There’s value in everything leading up to conquering a difficult skill, but it’s easy to forget about since it’s not as sexy.
Fear is relative.
You define what’s scary, and that definition isn’t fixed.
Once, a rogue jellyfish tentacle wrapped itself around my leg while I was surfing and stung me. Badly.
In case you’re wondering, the answer is no, urine doesn’t help.
I was in unrelenting pain and discomfort for 72 hours and I couldn’t think straight. I was scared shitless to get back in the ocean.
My fear was holding me back from something I loved. I couldn’t get over it myself, so I called in some help.
I hired a private surf instructor. I told him my sting story and he said he’s been stung dozens of times and it’s just part of surfing. No big deal.
He taught me a new pop-up technique. He was so excited to get me catching waves again that I didn’t feel an ounce of fear during our session.
There’s something about being around people who aren’t afraid that forces you to level up.
I firmly believe things stick with you better when you experience them firsthand rather than reading about them in a non-fiction book…or in a Medium article for that matter.
Again, my attitude going into this endeavour was relaxed, which made a world of difference.
Let me remind you: it’s not what you do, but how you do it (no idea who originally said this, but shout out to that person).
