I am 36. I had two babies. I put on quite a bit of weight after two pregnancies and barely worked out in the past 5 years. What the hell am I doing? I kept spinning these thoughts in my brain over and over since the moment I woke up.
I got dressed and reminded myself that I couldn’t do a push up to save my life. I packed the bag and mentally prepared for the next hour to be a complete disaster. At the car, on the way to the beach, I tried to stay calm and cheerful, while my inner voice kept screaming to turn around. I told it to shut up, which was a surprise even to me.
The goal was to just do it before I could find all the reasons not to, before I could back out. And the thing to do was to catch a wave in the Indian Ocean and ride it all the way to the shore. I was going surfing with my athletic husband and no less athletic brother. Which is a recipe for disaster, let me tell you.
When it comes to sports, the confidence levels of a 36-year-old mom of two are not particularly high and they plummet even further when next to two muscular men who get up on the board from the first or second try.
My husband has been surfing for several years now, not regularly, but without a fail every time we come to Sri Lanka to visit our family. When he tried it for the first time in 2022 I was pregnant with Knopka. The next year Knopka was a baby and I was breastfeeding so lying down on a board with my engorged boobs didn’t sound enticing. The year after that I played with the idea, but ultimately had to let it go of it as Knopka wouldn’t let go of me.
This year nothing but my annoying inner voice was in the way. My parents, who had flown to Sri Lanka to see us, looked after the kids while my husband, my brother and I were off to conquer the waves (or maybe have the waves conquer us, which is more believable in my case).
On the beach, the trainer explained how to get up on the board and I awkwardly followed his instructions. I am not even in rough waters yet, and this already feels difficult. What are you doing? Who do you think you are?
As I walked towards the ocean carrying a heavy board on my head, the voice got louder with every step. You couldn’t get up on the board when you were in the best shape of your life, how are you going to do it now, when you are 15 kilos heavier?
I tried surfing once, the year before I got pregnant. It was a fun experience, albeit not a fruitful one. I was 30 at the time and did HIIT and cardio training almost every day. But after an hour in the ocean, I still couldn’t find balance on the board.
This thought was perhaps the most destructive one. I had a previous experience that was clear proof that I couldn’t do it. But there was no way back now, was there? I was walking against the waves, deeper and deeper into the ocean, holding on to the board for dear life, as I was told it can both hit me on the head if I don’t hold it tight and tear my finger off if I hold it incorrectly.
Lie on the board, the trainer, a skinny 16-year-old boy said. I jumped on top of the board with all the grace of a pregnant raccoon. I pulled myself a little higher up, placed my palms next to my chest, repeated the steps in my head.
Are you ready?
Not in a million years, my inner voice replied.
Uhm… yea, I guess, I said out loud.
And then the wave hit and as the boy pushed my board and screamed “Up!”, not only did I not get up, I went down doing somersaults in the ocean. But it was in that moment that my inner voice finally went silent. Because you don’t have to succeed to stop hearing this annoying, belittling, ever doubting voice. You just have to start doing something, anything.
For the next hour I kept falling off the board, gulping salty water, and watching my husband and brother riding every other wave. It was in the last 15 minutes that I got up on the board for the first time, if only for 3 seconds. But the thing with surfing is once you get up once and feel the wave and your body on it, you can do it again. I did it 2 more times and then the session was over.
We surfed again the next morning and the morning after that. I got progressively better at standing up and keeping balance for longer. That one hour every morning was the most exhilarating experience I’ve had in recent months, perhaps in a year. It is also the proudest I’ve been lately. And not only because I had the physical strength to do it, but because I didn’t give in to the voice inside that kept saying I was too old, too weak, incapable.
I got so used to thinking of myself as maybe not old, but older. I know logically 36 years is still young, but I swear there are days (probably during my luteal phase) when I feel like an 86-year-old. My back hurts, my hair falls out, my nails break.
I look at myself in the mirror and notice new fine lines and patches of grey hair. I have no energy or will to move. And when I do convince myself to move my body I choose something easy, like an entry-level yoga class or a postnatal workout, even though my youngest is 2.5 years old.
I am scared if I try something harder I won’t last, I’ll stop half way. I tell myself I need to be caring and mindful of my body, especially now after giving birth twice. But maybe there are times to be gentle and other times to give yourself a push. Maybe while my mind has been wrapped around in self doubt, my body has been capable all along. Once I got out of my own head, it showed me just how capable it was.
On the latest trip down South which is where all the nicest beaches in Sri Lanka are located, I did two more surfing sessions with a trainer and then — with some pressure from my husband — went out into the ocean alone. Just me against the waves which is some scary stuff. And I am a decent swimmer, actually.
As you stand in front of a raising wave, one thing is suddenly crystal clear. When you work together with this force of nature you become invincible, when you work against it — you stand no chance. When I swim in a rough ocean and see a wave I jump right in, taking cover in the calm waters underneath it, avoiding confrontation. On a surf board, not only are you not hiding from the wave, you have to make it work with you, for you. A task accomplished not simply by the use of physical power, but by applying one’s mental faculties too.
As I tried to figure out such a basic thing as where to even stop and wait for the wave (took me about 15 minutes of being thrown around) I noticed a boy, no older than 12 years old, riding the highest wave with such ease it took my breath away. In comparison, I still surf something called whitewash, which is pretty much the aftermath of the wave, perfect for beginners.
And I thought, how cool! Look at him! And then I thought… you know what… Why wouldn’t you surf like a pro when you are a 12-year-old boy (given the opportunity and money)? Surfing as a 36-year old mom of two is what’s cool. Granted, for anyone watching from the shore I look like a pregnant raccoon on a board, but if I managed to shut my inner voice up, not letting some strangers’ opinions get to me is a piece of cake.
This post, which is so beautifully written, brought back memories of my first surf class during the Uruguayan winter. I was about 20 kilos heavier and had to stuff myself into a tight wetsuit like a sausage. I didn’t manage to stand up, but heck, I was proud of myself for trying something new despite every reason not to.
Katerina,
thank you for your kind words and for sharing your experience, made me laugh out loud :)
It’s all abut the process! Did you surf again after that?
After only 1 baby and 1 year of being a mama, I feel less strong and capable than ever before. How can this be? I’ve created life, after all! Our inner voices can play tricks on us, telling us we are old and not pretty anymore and that we’ve lost ourselves. But that isn’t true, is it? Maybe it just take one wave to wake us up.
I love this, Sara!
I am also asking myself that question. Giving birth was the most incredible thing my body has ever done, ever. And somehow afterwards I doubt it every step of the way. There should be a balance between caring for our bodies, not putting ourselves under pressure to “bounce back” and realizing we are still strong and capable. Whatever it may look like for each of us: riding a wave or doing yoga or going for a walk.
You’re an inspiration! I love these blogs of yours!
Aw thank you, Yvonne! For always reading and for the kind words! :*