I’m learning to paddleboard. You may have seen paddleboarders, if you live near any body of water. The board is long, like a surf board, but you stand on it, and paddle along. Well, paddleboarders stand on it – I’m still learning.

It’s a step in my plan to one day surf, and if you knew how uncoordinated I am you would know what a ridiculous goal that is. I never could roller skate, or even stand on ice skates. When I tried ski lessons, the instructor laughed at me. So learning to surf is pretty outlandish. As a Chicagoan, I don’t get to the ocean very often, but when I do I love body-surfing and boogie-boarding.

A few years ago, I saw the movie Blue Crush, and fell in love with the idea of surfing. The story about young women living to surf - while they work crappy jobs and fight and reconcile with each other and, of course, fall in love - was pretty cheesy, but the ocean shots of the swell of the surf took my breath away. Watching, I thought, “I wish I could do that!” and then quickly dismissed it. I just don’t get to the ocean enough for the practice I’d need to learn.

But did you know people surf on the Great Lakes? I saw a story in the paper about these crazy surfers who surf the Great Lakes in the winter, in wet suits, because that’s when the surf is best. I saw the story in the middle of a Chicago January when I was living with my Aunt Mar, after filing for divorce. Plunging into frigid Lake Michigan with a surfboard didn’t seem any more outlandish than moving out of the home I’d lived in for 22 years, and ending a 25 yr marriage.

I spent last summer essentially catching my breath, coping with all the details of living on my own and starting a new life. But life isn’t content to let you catch your breath. Just when I’d establish a new routine, or find another way to balance things, an obstacle would throw me off course again.   Estrangement from my son was really unsettling. The struggle to sell our house and the subsequent foreclosure kept dashing my hopes for a solvent future. My absent father’s Cancer diagnosis and a cross-country attempt to connect with him had me pondering my life. I drove winding canyon roads to the Pacific Ocean between visits to his hospital room.

As I walked along the Malibu beach, I watched surfers paddling out to the largest swells. Saw them standing on their boards as the ocean roared around them. Thought, I want to do that. And then realized, I am doing that.

Each time a new obstacle arose, I handled it, and somehow came out on top, riding out wave after wave of depression, self-doubt, fear, and indecision. Every time I felt the exhilaration and excitement of a new accomplishment, my wish to surf didn’t seem so ridiculous. I knew if I could ride out this upheaval in my life, I could ride waves, too.

Last summer I hesitated at my friend’s invitation to try her paddleboard. It felt foreign, and although I’d canoed and rafted rivers, it had always been with a partner, and sitting down. I didn’t even try to stand. It was hard just to navigate, and I was working muscles I didn’t know I had, even while sitting or kneeling. I did ok paddling straight out into the lake, but couldn’t get the hang of turning. I’d paddle hard on one side, only to be moving further out into the lake. I’d adjust the position of the paddle, frantically sometimes, leaning into the board while trying to stay on top of it. It took forever to change direction. Still, there I was, paddling. It felt like an accomplishment that I could just get that board out, and back to shore.

This summer I feel a little more stable. When I go out on the paddleboard, I’m determined and focused. Instead of muttering, “I can’t even turn…” as I flounder to navigate, I’m making myself say, “I can turn, I can turn, I can turn” in rhythm with the strokes, and find that I actually can make the board go where I want it to.

Now I’m working on balance. Maybe the yoga is paying off, because last time I went out I finally stood! I went from a kneeling position to a squat, then lifted my hands from the board to rise holding the paddle. Paddled a few strokes before falling in. I laughed to think how much practice I’ll need to surf. But I’m determined to try, and paddleboarding is getting me a little closer.  I’m still spending more time falling into the water than actually standing, but I’m getting really good at hauling myself back up on the board.