Surfing is Hard
That’s not news. It’s basically the tagline of the sport. Unless you grew up on the North Shore of Oahu and your name starts with John John, it’s hard. So it makes no sense—zero—for a 54-year-old man, new to surfing, to curse his lack of ability while clinging to his board in 6-foot Costa Rican swells.
And yet. That was me.
This is what we do. We expect to perform like we did when we were 25—even when everything's changed. Our capacity shifts, but our expectations don’t.
The mismatch is brutal. And it’s not just surfing.
I run. A lot. But I’m running slower. Like, a minute or two per mile slower than I used to. I could turn every run into a quiet existential meltdown about what that says about me… or I could just run. That’s the shift. Acceptance isn’t surrender—it’s adaptation. And adaptation is the skill I’m learning to respect. I seem to keep forgetting the lesson but it reminds me every time I want to do anything I used to do.
It’s gotten a bad rap. People think adaptation means shape-shifting, compromising, giving in. I don’t see it that way. Adaptation is a clear-eyed reading of reality. It’s the move that lets you continue rather than collapse (tantrum) under false expectations.
That day in the water? I had no business trying to catch those waves. And knowing that—listening to that—wasn’t weakness. It was sanity. It was self preservation . . . to do the other things I love to do. You know, as opposed to lying in bed waiting for my extremities to mend.
This is the quiet truth of getting older: you carry all your experience forward, but the vessel shifts. The body changes first, but it ALL follows. So you either recalibrate… or you break.
Still chasing growth? Yep. Still chasing challenge? Of course. But there's a new variable in the mix: Who am I now? What can I do today—not in comparison to my best year, but in relation to what’s real? Sux?! Sure. Reality? Double Sure.
A tip. Try something entirely new—something with no baggage, no personal history to live up to. Surfing, maybe. Pottery. Piano. It’s not about being good. It’s about being free. It's about be you in that moment, not reliving old glories out on the football field.
If you need a reference point, look at our parents. Time has changed them physically. But some—you’ll notice—have kept the lights on. They still have a passion for life. And now, I finally understand how hard that must be. The common thread is this:
A willingness to engage fully in life (to whatever capacity they might have), regardless of the form it takes.
More pain comes from pretending we’re still the person we used to be than the thing itself. You know what - you’re not the same person. Neither am I. But, do you remember the acne? The insecurity? The awkwardness? Yeah, I don't miss that.
Regardless of whatever you remember, you aren't the same. It's ok. I would suggest the best tact to take is to adapt.
Because we all know what the alternative looks like.
Locked in. Stuck. Waiting out the clock.
Screw that - me, personally, I have some music to make. You?
