What a Surf Lesson Taught Me About My Body Hang Ups
Illustration by the exceptionally talented Melanie Johnnson.
The story of comfort zones, surprising yourself and trusting the body you thought you hated ...
“I arrived in St Ives sleep deprived and jangling with anxiety. Four words had been keeping me up at night – hen party and surf lesson. Much as I love the sea, the term beach body coupled with a childhood spent dreading PE classes will fill in enough of the blanks for you. I tried to swallow down the nerves but the swimwear fear was real. Pizza, drinks and sunshine with the other hen party girls were all well and good that evening, but now it was just one sleep to go.
The next morning we set off down to the beach and, in a moment of relief that was part ‘duh’ and part revelation, I realised we were all different shapes and sizes. Of course. I exhaled, finally, and we laughed together as we struggled into wetsuits – slick, black, whale-like second skins that felt quite snug and reassuring once you'd wriggled and coaxed your curves into them, and got a pal to zip you up at the back. The surf instructors, both called Matty and predictably zen, explained some principles to do with the board that were reassuringly familiar to a serial yoga attempter. And I could actually lift the board and hurl myself across it. Sort of. On land at least.
Leashes around our ankles, we headed into the sea. I turned a blind eye my mind’s scrolling marquee of ‘but what if I have to pee?’ and ‘everyone can see my gut’. Nothing for it but to focus. And guess what? I could do it. I could grip either side of the board (the rails) and heave myself onto it, sliding my chest across first, swinging my legs over and shimmying down so my toes were tucked over the back. We craned our necks for oncoming waves, listening for calls of “wave on!” and “paddle paddle paddle!”, when we would dutifully start paddling. Deep, slow scoops of the clean green water, speeding up when we guessed the wave might be nearing our toes. And I could do it. Not right away, and not without some hints and hauling from one or the other of the Mattys. But, once or twice, I caught a wave. Gliding suddenly towards the shore, flowing from the ‘chicken wings’ pose with my chest down and elbows up, to the prone position which feels like cobra pose or what the Little Mermaid does when she arches up on that rock.
Next, standing up. Well, that's never going to happen, is it? That’s what I'd decided, and I'd convinced myself, too. I couldn't follow the steps in time and was right back to chicken wings and missing waves. I shook my head at the longer haired Matty when he asked how we were getting on. Thumbs down. “Don't worry about paddling,” he said, “I'll do that bit.”
When the next wave arrived he whizzed me along, letting go then shouting “knees!” And I could do it. I wiped out immediately as I tried to get up, of course, but we tried again. “Knees! Front foot! Back foot! Up!” I stopped thinking and did it, triumphantly gliding into shore atop my rented foam board for a few seconds. And that was enough. Double high fives from the long-haired Matty. And a grin on my face that seemed to come from the inside. Grabbed my board, back into the sea.
You see, the body you’ve been quietly loathing can surprise you sometimes. That weekend we walked miles and miles of the beaches and hills, around different bays and up and down from town to the little cottage we’d booked. And I wasn't tired anymore. I'd used my body and it was glowing for once and now my brain felt like it had woken up. Pride rose as it dawned on me that these limbs and lumps and bumps did things in that water that I'd told them they couldn't do.
Today I put a swimsuit on. I took my dress off on a busy beach and ran into the sea. It was freezing. No-one else was swimming. Wetsuit-clad keenos were trying to catch waves. I waded in up to my knees, my waist. Got my shoulders wet and – nothing for it – had to dunk my head right in. Ignoring the salt in my eyes, I floated, splashed and kicked. And I thought: maybe my body is OK. Maybe it's meant to be like this. It can warm up and I can laugh and squeal, sing to myself, and pull it through the water however I choose between the red and yellow flags – eyes stinging, skin singing, toes cramping incredible. Here I am, part of joyous creation. I shouldn’t hate my body, after all. I should challenge it, stretch it, work it, protect it, feed it well. It is kind of amazing.”
-
Thank you so much to Becca for contributing this bloomin’ inspiring and confidence boosting piece! You can find her on Instagram at @BeccaMathilde.