"It’s never too late for a new beginning in your life." - Joyce MeyerI sat on the beach, watching the sandpipers skittering back and forth, pecking at the water’s edge. A dead horseshoe crab washed back and forth in the surf.
Finished at fifty-five, I thought. I’m as useless as that poor crab.
Several years ago I was laid off after thirty-three years at a Fortune 500 company. “Workforce rebalancing” was the term they used, but for me it simply meant a month’s severance pay and colleagues solemnly shaking my hand. Hand over your badge… there’s the door, good luck.
Much of my identity and self-worth had been invested in my career. I had received awards and affirmation from managers and peers. I was the “go-to” person for answers. I helped shape company policy. To be summarily ejected was jarring and unsettling, like being on a spacewalk and having your lifeline cut.
So I had retreated to my happy place, the beach. Being by the water, watching the endless waves, the wheeling gulls, always had a calming effect on me. But this time was different; I felt unfulfilled, restless. Something was missing.
A plane droned by, pulling a banner ad: “Learn to surf—North End Surf Shop.”
Perhaps it was some sort of reactionary thing to being given the boot, but suddenly the idea of surfing seemed very intriguing. Why not? I had body surfed. I had ridden a boogie board. What would it be like to ride a surfboard? I had seen kids doing it. Could I do it at fifty-five?
Before my saner side prevailed, I drove to the surf shop. I went inside and a kid about seventeen was behind the counter. Here was the quintessential surfer: long blond hair, deeply tanned with a Hawaiian shirt. “Hey,” he said amiably.
I said I wanted to take a surf lesson. He looked at me for a long moment and seemed on the serge of saying something. “Sure,” he was all he finally said. I filled out some paperwork, noting the release of liability form, and he handed me a waterproof shirt. “Just go out there,” he said, indicating the back door. “They’re just starting.”
As I approached the class, pulling on my shirt, the instructors and students looked at me with curiosity. Some of the kids said stuff behind their hands. What was I doing? I was easily thirty years older than the oldest student. I was in pretty good shape, but I had some stiffness and aches and nowhere near as spry and agile as these kids.
We learned the basics on the beach—how to lay on the board, how to paddle, how to pop up (jump from a prone to a squatting position). I noticed the kids were much better than me at the pop up.
I learned that there were better times to surf depending on the tides and wind. The sea was fairly calm that day with waves about waist high. We all entered the water.
I laid on my board and my instructor, Blake, towed me out. Our boards were the “soft top” variety, made of soft foam, nine feet long, three fins and internal stiffeners. They were not as hard as the standard fiberglass surfboard, and safer in the event of a wipeout.
We stopped when we were about 100 yards out. Blake was treading water and the waves seemed much bigger on the board than they did from the beach. I pushed the theme from Jaws out of my head.
“Okay,” Blake said. “When a wave comes, I’m gonna push you. I want you to paddle as hard as you can. When you feel the wave has you, pop up. OK?”
“OK,” I said, sounding more confident than I felt.
Blake held the board as several waves raised, then lowered me. Too big, or too small. ““OK,” Blake said. “Here comes one. Get ready…OK…ready? Here goes! Paddle!” He shoved me and the board lurched forward.
I began paddling, holding my head up as I had been shown. Back and forth, one side, then the other. Blake shouted encouragement from behind me. “Dig, dig, dig!” he yelled. “Paddle! Paddle!”
I felt the wave catch me and I popped up. But something was wrong–the nose of the board was dropping. It dug into the water and I flew forward, landing on my face. I flipped the board over, and paddled back out to Blake.
“Hey no worries,” he said. “We call that pearling. You were too far forward. It’s a common beginner mistake.”
We tried several more times, with several more episodes of pearling, as well as missing the wave, falling off the board, or blowing the popup. I began to feel frustrated, foolish. I should be back sitting with the dead crab, not out here with a bunch of teenagers who by now were popping up and yelling to each other.
Finally, a wave came and everything fell into place. I popped up, wobbled, almost lost my balance…. but suddenly I was standing on my board.
In an instant I became acutely aware of all that was going on around me: The wave breaking beneath my board; me, standing, moving with the wave. The beach, far off, beyond the tops of other waves. The offshore wind blowing spray off the wave crests.
Blake was faintly shouting encouragement far behind me. It was a feeling unlike anything I had ever experienced, as though all me senses were suddenly heightened. My peripheral vision seemed acutely sharp; I was aware of all the was happening around me.
Oh man, I thought. This is AWESOME. Why didn’t I try this sooner?
In the time left in my lesson, I screwed up many more times, but I also stood a few times as well, with the same feeling. I was hooked. Surfing was simply the most fun thing I had ever done.
Since that day, I have bought my own board, taken several more lessons, and am getting better each time I go out. Surfing has changed my lifestyle in a number of ways. ... read more
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