There’s this idea that when you start something new—especially something as iconic as surfing—you should aim to be good at it right away. But the truth is, your first wave will probably be messy. Maybe you’ll miss it completely, maybe you’ll fall before you even pop up, or maybe you’ll ride it halfway before wiping out. And that’s not just okay—it’s essential.

The beauty of surfing is that it humbles you right away. You’re out there battling waves, learning how to read the ocean, figuring out how to balance on an unsteady board. It’s supposed to be hard. That struggle is what makes your progress feel so real and earned.

In Finding Waves, I write about my very first wave—a comically ungraceful tumble that left me soaked, winded, and smiling from ear to ear. Because in that moment, I was surfing. I had taken the leap. That moment, imperfect as it was, marked the beginning of something life-changing.