My husband is passionate about surfing. For more than 30 years, he has paddled out on the North Shore of Oahu in search of the best, big waves of the morning. For a brief moment in time, he stopped surfing. That’s when I met him. I had heard from girlfriends how a woman is second to the surf– I wanted to be first,  and simply committed to not dating surfers in Haleiwa, Hawaii, the home of the Triple Crown and the Eddie Aikau.

Within a year we met, married, had twins, and stayed on the North Shore, where in his words, “Why would I quit surfing? We live near the best waves in the world.”

Given our location, surfing should probably be a family affair. Our children were taught to swim early for the express purpose of making sure they were strong enough to “swim in” if a leash broke and the board went one way and the surfer another. I tried several times in lessons and on my own to no avail.

My fifth lesson was over the recent winter break in Waikiki. I took a paid lesson at a surf school in a small group setting with vacationing family members. Kids got private lessons, my kids rented boards, and the adults went in for a small group. Should have checked to see if there was a stand-up guarantee. Not that it mattered, my arms were tired after the on-board beach workout and 400 meter paddle to the break. Then there was the rush and the instructor’s push to set up for the ride and I was on it…for a moment.

This day would be like the others. Here’s what I have mastered in 10 years of hap-hazard trying. I can paddle out and maneuver, can almost catch the wave if its less than 2 feet high but prefer to be pushed, can occasionally rise to my knees and on 2 times have gotten my bottom up off the board in the tiger stance position and simultaneously removed my hands from the rails for a split- second before I realize it is possible to fall in head first, hit coral, and, and well, more than likely, I’d survive to try again.

And so I am second to the surf.