If you follow us on Instagram, you might know that I love Stand Up Paddleboarding, or SUP.
When we lived at the beach, I rented a paddleboard with a friend and was immediately hooked. I went and rented many more times and even tried SUP yoga classes. Then, knowing me so well, Mr. Family Trip bought a board for me as a Christmas gift.
That began my journey with Lilac Attack as well as a search to discover ways to let go – to let go of being the best, of succeeding, of excelling. It was a journey to learn how to redefine myself.
As a strong Enneagram 7, as well as an enthusiastic person who was once a professional ballet dancer, I jumped into SUP with all my heart. I believed that any new sport or hobby tends to be best experienced with a group. Hobbies are ripe fields for plucking new friendships and developing socially, but also by being within a group there is more opportunity to learn about the hobby, to also pluck experience and wisdom.
Plus, being involved in a group that revolves around hobbies tends to keep me motivated to keep practicing. So I went to a Meet Up group for paddleboarders.Â
I was shocked and surprised and overwhelmed by how rough the experience was.
Within just five minutes after pushing off the dock, I was floundering. Within fifteen minutes, I was behind the rest of the group by at least a quarter of a mile.
Even though there were 3.5 miles to go still, I was so very, very frustrated.
I was slow, and new to SUP. The conditions were very rough, with wind whipping and white caps cresting. I simply didn’t have the experience to keep up. One very nice gentleman was doing laps around me, making sure I was okay, while the rest of the group had taken off and was out of sight before I could even figure out if I was holding my paddle right.
Immediately, I knew I was out of my element and immediately I felt like a failure and a glaring novice. I came out with a kayaking PFD I roped to the front of my board, a huge pack with a water bottle, phone in a pouch, flip flops, sunscreen, bug spray, and whatever else I thought I needed to go out for a beautiful evening on the water. The rest of the group had slimmed down race boards and minimalist (and expensive) gear. I looked over-eager, novice and, I am sure, ridiculous. I wondered if the rest of the group was giggling at me as they paddled forward.Â
It is such a hard feeling to be vulnerable. And when that vulnerability leads to a situation where you feel embarrassed, it is twice as hard to keep going, to keep paddling. But there I was: out in the middle of the rough channel.
Right when I wanted to give up, Mother Nature came through (as she so often does). I didn’t think I had it in me to keep my head up and keep the paddle moving. But I was given a gift of strength.
A sea turtle rose up out of the choppy waters in front of me and smiled.
A rare sighting that made me realize that compared to the stories of life and death ebbing and flowing beneath me, my openness to witnessed failure was, ultimately, nothing.
And I just knew I would make it through this. Slow and steady.
Nearly 45-minutes later, I came around a bend to find the entire contingency of pro-paddlers from the Meet Up group waiting for me. They were all smiles, cheers, and kind words. I was sweaty and out of breath. While touched, I also wanted to disappear.
Over a beer and some pizza afterwards, the group was incredibly enthusiastic about my participation.
“You should come back!” “You just need a better board!” “We were like you, too, where our boards kept us the slowest on the block, and we ended up buying better gear and now we can keep up!” “Keep at it, you’ll get better.” “You should do some races. There are hardly any women out there so you’d be sure to get some sort of medal!”
Yes, it was meant to be encouraging but instead it hit me: I am not in this to win a race or be faster. I didn’t feel the need to excel or push. I just wanted to be on my beautiful new paddleboard in God’s great ocean and exist. I wanted SUP to be a moving meditation for me and something I truly loved.
For the first time in my life, after years of competing for ballet roles and jobs and college grades, I didn’t want to push myself to be better or the best. I realized I didn’t give a damn if I performed well. I didn’t want to track speed and chart my improvement.Â
For pretty much my whole life, I would only tackle things I could excel at. Or, rather, I would make sure I excelled at whatever I tackled. If I couldn’t be one of the best, then I didn’t want in.Â
I was looking for joy not in the doing, but in the excelling.
Here, though, now with paddleboarding, I am okay with simply the joy. In my 40’s, I have found the peace that comes with knowing what is right in my own heart and body.
Instead, I want to just get out and feel my toes on the board, the salt water massaging them as they cramp from gripping. I loving feeling alive on my board when the sweat from exertion starts to sting my eyes and my abs are singing, and I jump off and into the water, watching the fish scatter around me. When my labored breathing becomes white noise and my thoughts cease, I love looking at the pelican in the sky and feeling like I could soar, too.
I just want to feel and be in the moment. I want my hobby to bring me closer to who I am – not make me a standout or a successful SUP competitor.
I took a risk jumping into the throng of strangers with my new paddleboard. But, ultimately, despite the painful vulnerability, I am so thankful I went to that Meet Up group. It helped me find new depth and peace within my soul.