Irish coastline. Photo by Aaron Kato on Unsplash
Making excuses
Sunday morning, and I was back in bed. I was up early but my hiking partner had done himself a mischief and couldn’t go, and so my day had opened up considerably. Plans for recreation and exercise shelved, my day had opened up and allowed room for that terrible curse to start to creep back into my mind: I thought I might have time to do a bit more work.
I felt guilty for not making the most of the day, even though one of my New Year’s Resolutions was to take a day off from study and work every week (Sunday usually makes sense). But I find it hard to really relax indoors. My mind always thinking about something else I could be doing. Especially when I’d a bit of travelling and hiking planned for Sunday on a lovely late autumn day. I put down my book every five minutes to scroll on my phone. I had to tell myself it was fine being inside on a day like it.
I told myself I was tired because I’d already gone surfing the day before. I told myself that needed rest. I told myself that I shouldn’t be greedy, and that I wouldn’t even enjoy it if I went all the way to the beach. I even told myself my wetsuit was still wet and I’d only be cold putting it on. What sort of an excuse is that?? You can rationalise anything in your own head.
You don’t know what you want
I told myself I’d do yoga instead, to loosen myself out and get some mild exercise in. Told myself to settle down and enjoy my Sunday, the day of rest. Or I’d just read for a bit. Then I’d go for a walk. Or maybe it’d be time for lunch then. Maybe a nap afterwards. To go for a run? No – it’s a day of rest. The indecision was more stressful than any amount of work or exercise could be. Eventually, I get up, pack my bag, load the board into the car and head to Enniscrone.
On the drive down I tell myself: “I’ll just go in for half an hour, I won’t push myself too hard. I’ll just sit in the water for the sake of being in the water. The drive will be nice, and the drive home, even if I don’t enjoy the surfing. Sure I can go back to bed when I get home.” Almost two hours later and I’m slowly hauling myself out of the water, strolling up the beach dragging my board, content.
I really should stop telling myself things; I’m often wrong.
Good decisions and motivation
Going surfing turned out to be the best decision I’d made all week. It was even better than deciding to go surfing the day before. I’m slowly starting to build confidence when I’m in the water that I’ll catch waves. This feeling starts to stretch out earlier and earlier in the day with more practice: first you feel like you’ll catch waves when you’re about to go for one, then you start to feel confidence as you’re togging out and putting on your wetsuit. Then you start to feel confident on the drive down. Maybe next time I’ll wake up in the morning and the first thought on my mind will be “I’m going to catch some waves today”.
Like I said, I’m often wrong. But you need some kind of motivation. It can be a slog learning and practicing something and getting nowhere, or making glacial progress. It’s frustrating. That’s why I tend to do these things in binges: ski seasons, surf camps, meditation retreats. Get a good run up at the thing, a crash course in it, so hopefully I’ve made a decent dent in my progress at it, and instilled a life-long interest and motivation and love of the thing in me for future use and reference.
Lighting the fire
Now, it doesn’t mean I’m turning pro or anything. Just that the fire is there, burning brighter with each session. You need some kind of motivation to look forward to going to the beach in Ireland, even for a quick dip. Showing up is the first hurdle. And like I said before, a lot of surfing is about watching and waiting, which you do by spending time in the water. The next step is to actually practice standing on the board. Thankfully, conditions were great for a beginner and I managed to catch a few.
I wasn’t sure how the waves ‘looked’ as I pulled into the car-park. But then, I don’t know what to look for, really, not yet anyway. I’m at the stage where I’ll go out in anything, and I’m in no position to judge anyway. The best thing to do is just get in and find out that way. Watch what others are doing. Go with friends who know what they’re doing and what they’re looking for and can give you tips.
My first snowboard season in Canada, I’d have gone out in anything. I went out in temperatures below minus thirty, the mountain frozen solid under sheets of ice. Friends would brag that – to paraphrase the supermodel Linda Evangelista – they “don’t get out of bed for less than 10cm (of fresh snow)”. I didn’t care if it had snowed or not – sometimes I was too naïve to tell the difference.
There’s nothing like the feeling of being young and in love
It’s good to be hooked and naïve, like being young and in love. I said I’d go down for half an hour, just for a dip. I stayed in nearly two hours, the ‘just one more go’ feeling something I haven’t felt in a while. There is a painful teething period you go through – snowboarding, surfing, even being in love sometimes – when first you have to learn to fall, before you learn to float.
So too it was with writing. My first attempts were sporadic, painful, embarrassing, taking place in fits and starts over months, over years even. Still ongoing, really. It took time and practice just to become a beginner. I’m sure it puts a lot of people off doing a lot of things, destined to remain eternal dilletantes and epicurean. Or maybe it weeds out the uncommitted. Sometimes though, you have to put up with a bit of frustration and hurt and humility to start your path to falling in love with something.
But once you’ve mastered being a complete novice, you become a beginner, and from there there’s no stopping you. It feels like that for me now. Already I can’t wait ‘til next time. Even if it’s just for half an hour.
If you enjoyed reading this, check out:
Part 1 of my Learning to Surf diary:
How I ended up snowboarding in Japan:
Travelling by Running:
Travelling on foot – running abroad and the Vietnam Mountain Marathon