The Time The Ocean Spit Me Out Like a Kid Eating Liver
Sep 14, 2022
There's a country song by Toby Keith called As Good as I Once Was and one particular line has a meaningful refrain as I get older,
"Now my body says 'You can't do this boy',
But my pride says 'Oh yes, you can.'"
A long time ago I used to play football and lacrosse in college. Early on I figured out that having stubbornness in your DNA was a conducive attribute to being a competitive athlete. As I've gotten older there are times when I can't shake that DNA even though a voice in my head tells me to reconsider.
About five years ago I bought a new stand-up paddleboard which was designed to surf waves. I had taken it out on some small stuff but I really wanted to see what it was capable of. There was a particular day in early October when the ocean was firing and the waves were head-high. I figured this would be a good testing opportunity despite the fact I'd never been in surf that big and I was fifty years old.
With board in hand I stood on the shore and studied the incoming waves. I took note of the many empty handed surfers on the beach not participating on this particular day. The window opened, or so I thought, and I pushed off. I got about 20 yards out and the ocean seemed to say, "Not this time." and threw me back to shore. As I sheepishly gathered myself in the shore break I thought to myself, "Too impatient", "Wait for the right time." So I caught my breath and waited again for what seemed like forever (because I'm wiser now). I try again. I got out a little further but again the ocean spits me out. It was as if I were being declined because I didn't have the right credentials (which may have been true). This time I was breathing pretty heavy as I sat on my board and rested. Most normal people would probably have quit by now. The ocean had sent a message. Not once, but twice. But as I alluded earlier, pride and stubbornness often get in the way of rational thinking.
I was staring at the ocean and weighing my options when a man with a long board walked past me and tells me there's a rip current just a little ways down the shore that will help pull me out. He had just returned to shore so he must know what he's talking about. Besides, I tell myself that if the ocean spits me out a third time it's not meant to be.
I must have found the rip current because it works and I get myself outside the impact zone. When I finally get a chance to relax I wonder why my stomach is in knots. That's when I realize I'm scared sh**less. WHAT WAS I THINKING?
I'm trying my best to relax and enjoy but this is extremely difficult when I'm looking up at the waves and they sound like freight trains going by. I spot a big guy on a paddleboard who seems to have found a nice A-frame, break on the outside (at least 150 yards off shore). I watch him as he waits, catches a big, gently breaking wave, get in a few turns, and then exit without falling. Surely, this guy would be nice enough to share what he's found.
Paddling over I find the surfer to be amicable. Not wanting to barge in on this gem of a wave I wait patiently off to the side and see if I can feed off the scraps. Problem is I can't shake the knots in my stomach. After fumbling around out there for several minutes I decide today's not the day. I'm fatigued by the anxiety. Choosing to paddle in I hope to catch a smaller wave I can ride to the beach. Of course, nothing breaks at the right time and I lose my balance. Climbing back on to the board I'm in the prone position when I see a wave breaking on the outside. Exhausted and not in a position to stand up and ride, I decide to catch this wave on my belly back to the beach. I may or may not have kissed the ground when I got back to shore.
The next day I ran into a surfing friend who's about my age. His face lights up as he says, "You got out there!". That's when it dawned on me that there's pride and victory of just pushing your limits a little and doing something that nobody else chooses to do. I didn't achieve what I set out to do but I still did something I'd never done and I did while many, much younger men, stood on the beach and watched.
Every once in a while, push your limits. You will often find victory in your failures.
Best Wishes,
John Van Lunen, [email protected]
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