Life Lessons on a Stand up Paddle Board

by Karen Elizaga | Posted: January 14th, 2010 | 1 Comment »

When I was in Kona this past holiday, I got up on a stand up paddle board. I’ve always wanted to learn to surf (I know, everyone is surprised that I’ve never even attempted this, having grown up in Hawaii – I promise I will). The stand up paddle thing (or SUP as my friends in Hawaii call it) is, I imagine, the next best thing.

A little history on SUP. While it is a fairly new water sport in the mainstream, SUP had its genesis in early Polynesia. Then in the early ’60s, surfers would go out on long boards with paddles to take pictures of tourists. Now, SUP seems to be everywhere. In fact, world-renowned surfer (and body extraordinaire) Laird Hamilton’s considers SUP the best total body workout (I read that in Force of Nature).

I learned last summer on the calm waters of the Long Island Sound, thanks to our friend Andrew. Paddling while standing on a big longboard along the Sound somehow seemed safe and easy – water is generally flat…. and Andrew offered up a vest.

A slightly different story in Kona… no floaty vest, and of course, the Pacific Ocean seems much more active and vast. Translation? More unknown. Less stability. Animals. Deep water! Sharks?!

But people told me they’d seen dolphins and beautiful sea turtles while paddle surfing, and I wanted some of that action! The second I got into the water, however, I started second-guessing my choice:

• I wondered whether people were looking at cellulite on my backside or my hanging-out belly (self-consciousness).
• I asked the instructor whether there’d been any shark sightings (fear, risk aversion).
• I feared falling (embarrassment, fear).
• I thought I should have convinced someone to come with me (aversion to being alone).

Despite these thoughts (they all seemed simultaneous), I paddled from the shore, where the water was clear, and I could see the sand. On my knees (hence the thoughts of cellulite), I paddled out further, and the water turned into a sea green. I stood up. It was pretty easy, and I thought, “Hey, not so bad! I can do this!” And then I fell! I did what I’d feared I would. And you know what? I wasn’t embarrassed, it didn’t hurt, and I got right back up. In fact, being in the water felt thoroughly refreshing! That fall – that failure – actually increased my fortitude and gave me more courage to go out. I remember thinking “Falling? Ain’t no big thing.” And I paddled on.

I’m so glad I did. I got out even further away from shore, where I really felt all by myself (now, instead of loneliness, it was pure empowerment, courage!), the water was an absolutely gorgeous turquoise. I felt more stable on the board, and I found the strength to go faster, harder and further out. Gone was the fear of falling (it happened a handful of times more), and no one could see me out there anyway! And then the ocean turned a most magnificent royal blue, the kind of blue I only ever see in Hawaii.

When I turned to look at where I’d come from, I couldn’t see any faces of the people behind me – just shadows because of the sun’s position – and the shore was absolutely breathtaking. I stood for a moment being completely present in that moment, being so grateful for it and trying to absorb everything I saw, heard and felt.

I realized how absolutely idiotic I’d been thinking about cellulite or falling into the water. Had I given into those thoughts, I wouldn’t have ventured out. I wouldn’t have seen what I saw or felt what I felt!

And I realized how much of that SUP experience actually parallels our lives. Think about how many times we hold ourselves back from interesting opportunities, from sex, from social engagements, from deeper relationships, from different career moves because of niggling thoughts that we give power to. Imagine all of the beauty and experiences that we forgo because of those thoughts. Be conscious of the thoughts you think – the stuff that holds you back – and see if you can push them aside to experience greatness! Stand up to failure, to self-consciousness, to risk, to loneliness – whatever it is for you – and see what unfolds!

* Photo courtesy of Sarah Lee. (That’s not me!)