fitness

Surfing (sort of) in St. Clair

I have never really thought of myself as a potential surfer. I have trouble standing up on a paddleboard! But after spending a couple of weeks watching the beautiful surf and dozens of surfers, boogie boarders, and others frolicking in the waves off St. Clair beach in Dunedin, NZ, I knew I wanted to give it a try.

The surf school in St. Clair is delightful. It’s run by local surfers out of a van crammed with board and wetsuits, named for the Esplanade overlooking the beach. Their overall vibe was approachable and low key : while they have a fancy lesson-booking website, it turned out that the best way to track them down was to drop by the van when it was open. An open van was also a sure sign that the conditions were right for novice surfers – their whole team were also reassuringly safety-conscious. I joined a novice group lesson – myself, and two other women who had completed one or two previous lessons.

The lesson itself was surprisingly simple, as was the concept of surfing : slide down the wave on your board, then stand up. Apparently the forward motion of the board, and the fins underneath, help to make it more stable than balancing on a stationary paddle board – but on the other hand, you’re doing it in some pretty dynamic water!

After putting on a wetsuit and being assigned a giant “beginner board” that was surprisingly light, we received some initial instruction on the beach about safety and etiquette from our instructor Fin (I’ll spell it that way in honour of his claim to have be named after the fins on the bottom of the surfboard)! He then took us right out into what he called the “white water” – the area that’s about waist-deep and well inside where the big waves were breaking (and they were big! the swell was forecast to be 1.5-2m high that day).

Heading out to the beach with our boards

We’d then practice turning and flopping onto our surfboards in the gap between swells, and Fin would guide our boards and launch us down the front of a wave. Our job was to first lift our upper bodies (“like a seal!”), then kneel, and then try to stand, before we either reached shore or (more likely) tipped over and fell off. Retrieve board, wade back out, repeat. The surfboard itself is attached to your ankle by a long stretchy lanyard, so it can move away from you when you fall, but doesn’t go very far.

Thanks to Fin’s guidance I got pretty good at looking for suitable waves, and the feeling of catching one – balancing while shifting weight to stay on the front of the wave. I definitely never managed to get beyond kneeling on my board, but I did keep trying. I was definitely inspired by my more talented and experienced classmate, who was actually standing up on her board and riding it in to shore. She made the impossible idea of standing up seem … possible! But mostly I was just really enjoying play in the waves and doing that on a big surfboard was super fun. It was also much less scary than I expected – even if I tumbled off my board in a wave, all I had to do was stand up on the bottom to have my head above water.

The 90 minute lesson time flew past, but I was also exhausted by the end. It turns out that guiding a large surfboard through breaking waves, flopping on it, paddling with your arms to get up to speed and then hauling yourself up onto your knees and balancing is a pretty good workout! I’m very grateful to Sam who was watching my efforts from the Esplanade, and managed to catch a short video of one of my efforts. You can even see an encouraging cheer from Fin at the end :

So while I’m not sure I’ll ever reach the level of skill required to actually stand up on a surfboard, I am sure that I’ll keep trying and practicing on the rare occasions I come across a surf beach. Maybe I’ll give paddleboarding another whirl in the meantime!

Sarah Pie is more desk jockey than surfer dude these days, but really enjoyed getting out on her bike in the beautiful NZ summer weather.

Fear · gear · yoga

First Time Ever Surfing

I’ve never boogie boarded. I’ve never really body surfed. I’ve never skateboarded. So, when friends convinced me to take a surf lesson a couple of weeks ago in Costa Rica, I was flat out scared. Surfing felt like going straight to the big time, without any warm up in small venues. It was no help that my friends were proudly showing me scrapes, cuts and bruises on their legs and lips. Yes, they were all big smiles and it’s-so-fun and you-should-try-it. But was it really fun? (If you’re a Bojack Horseman fan, you can read that last sentence with Mr. PB’s voice.)

I wasn’t scared of the inevitable humiliation of being a beginner. I am more proud of being a beginner at my age (53) than I am embarrassed by my total lack of skill trying something I’ve never done. I was scared of injury and in my worst pre-lesson moments a vision of being conked out by a surf board and drowning presented itself as a possibility, alongside all the other theoretically lesser bodily harms. Pain was a factor, yes. But more than that, I didn’t want to be out of commission for all the sports I love (and consider to be my mental health support). Especially, as I’d be getting back from Costa Rica in time for my last weeks of cross-country skiing, likely until 2021.

But … I like to think of myself as a gamely person. Also as someone who doesn’t run away from every fear she has (I’ll sit with my fears in meditation sometimes). I said yes, to prop up that particular aspect of my self-image.

That’s how I found myself prone on a surfboard on the beach, pretending to paddle with my arms and then push up quickly to a standing position. So easy on the beach. Kind of like a quick-quick transition from yoga’s chataranga pose to warrior one, with cupid-like arms.

Oh, and if you’re a surfer, I will also mention that I’m goofy. Yes, my goofiness pre-dates surfing, but now it’s been certified.  For non-surfers, that means that my back foot on the board is my left foot. To determine which foot is your back one in surfing, launch yourself into a sock-slide on a smooth floor and notice the position of your feet. Right foot back is regular. Left foot is goofy.

All this beach practice was one thing. You will not be shocked to learn that it’s a whole different story in the water.

Since there are no pictures of me surfing and I didn’t want a random woman from Unsplash (also–what’s with all the giant breasts and tiny bikinis when one searches “woman surfing” on Unsplash??), this is a picture of Tamara surfing bigger waves than I did (by Cat Slatsinsky). I interviewed Tamara for my book and this picture is in it.

Nosara is supposed to be one of the easiest places to learn how to surf. From my vantage point of absolutely no expertise, that sounds plausible. Over the course of my first hour on the surf board, I stood up and surfed to shore four or five times. When I say “surf”, I’m using that term loosely, to describe what might not be immediately identifiable to the outsider as surfing. Picture everything in frame-by-frame slo-mo on tiny waves and you’ll have an idea of my version of surfing. An exhilarating challenge, yet also just playing. Plus, ocean. Plus, deliciously physically tiring.  

Yes, I fell off the board more than I stood on the board. Yes, I seem to still be discovering bruises I hadn’t noticed and can’t remember exactly which mishap caused them. Not to mention the carpal tunnel syndrome ache in my left wrist from guiding the board through the waves walking out to where I was going to theoretically catch a wave. And yes, I was scared each of the two more days I surfed. But not scared enough not to do it.

Because my friends were right; I reveled in the total liberation of the novice. With no expectations of how things should be, the experience of right now is super charged. Every victory is epic.

I will surf again. Some extra items I’ll acquire before then: a water-worthy hat with a 360 brim and a chin strap; ultra-zinc-y sunscreen for my face and the backs of my hands; water shoes to alleviate fear of sharp shell cuts; maybe even a surf shirt that isn’t too big.

Because I found the surf shirt I wore at my apartment a while back, after so many guests had come through that I claimed it as my own, instead of contacting every different person to see if they’d mislaid a surf shirt (why had they even brought it on an NYC trip? Surf shirt owner—if you are reading this and it’s yours, happy to send it back. I only wore it three times for extremely light surfing).

To offset total novelty, I also did a lot of mat yoga in Costa Rica (I say “mat” because these days I usually I do aerial yoga, easier on my hamstrings). How could I not? Nosara is overflowing with yogis. I took my first class at The Gilded Iguana, where I was staying. The studio was small and gorgeous, reminiscent of a glass-enclosed tree house. Disconcertingly, the class ended up being private, because I was the only person to show up. In this land of yoga, the studio was so new that it hasn’t caught on yet (check it out if you go!). That was an intense class. Then, on the instructor Violeta’s recommendation, I went to two other classes at different places, with teachers she loved. At the first class, packed with 20 and 30-somethings, in full yoga retreat mode, I was initially daunted. They would all be so much better than me. They were all so young. Then I thought, wait, I’ve been doing yoga since before they knew how to walk. The classes were excellent—one with Emily at Bodhi Tree and the other with Zack at Harmony. The studios were beautiful, shaded, open-air, wood-floored oases. The wind was up during one class and we practiced to the soothing clicks of bamboo trees knocking against one another.  

By the time I boarded the plane home, every muscle in my body was exhausted. That’s a good vacation, for me. 

Yesterday, I was out cross-country skiing, one of my absolute faves (no offense surfing). When I got to the top of my most-loved climb, I paused to take in the view and breathe, and once I’d caught my breath, breathe in some gratitude for the gift of the ski.