If there’s one thing surfing across all fifty states has taught me, it’s that perseverance isn’t just about sticking with something until you succeed. It’s about learning to fall, to laugh at yourself, and to keep paddling out no matter how tired you feel—or how many times you’ve face-planted in the water.
Here’s the thing: when I first started this journey, I thought I knew what perseverance meant. I mean, I’d been surfing for years on the East Coast. I’d put in the hours to learn the basics, battled through rough days in the lineup, and dealt with my fair share of wipeouts. But I quickly realized that chasing waves in unexpected places comes with its own unique set of challenges—some of which I definitely wasn’t prepared for.
Take the landlocked states, for example. Surfing in places like North Dakota or Kansas isn’t just about finding water; it’s about finding the right kind of water. A lot of the time, it’s dams, rivers, or even man-made waves. And let me tell you, there’s nothing more humbling than standing on the edge of a freezing-cold river, holding your board, and asking yourself, “Am I seriously about to do this?”
The first few attempts in these spots were rough—like, really rough. I remember trying to surf a river wave in Colorado and just getting absolutely wrecked by the current. It wasn’t graceful. I felt like I’d never get the hang of it, and part of me wanted to throw in the towel and head back to the ocean where things felt familiar. But something about the challenge made me want to keep trying. I’d tell myself, Just one more attempt. Just one more paddle out. And eventually, I found my rhythm.
That’s the first big lesson surfing taught me about perseverance: you don’t have to conquer the whole mountain (or in this case, the wave) all at once. It’s about breaking the challenge down into smaller, more manageable pieces. Focus on standing up for a few seconds. Focus on catching the wave just right. Focus on paddling out with a little more confidence than you had the last time. Those small wins add up, and before you know it, you’re riding a wave you thought was impossible.
Another thing I learned is that perseverance doesn’t mean you have to do it alone. I can’t tell you how many times locals in these unexpected surf spots helped me out. In Michigan, someone showed me the best place to paddle into the Great Lakes waves, which are surprisingly tricky. In Idaho, a river surfer walked me through the mechanics of staying balanced on a standing wave. These people didn’t have to help me—they could’ve just laughed at this random girl lugging a surfboard into their territory. But they did, and that generosity kept me going on the hardest days.
The support I got from strangers taught me another important aspect of perseverance: it’s okay to ask for help. I think sometimes we equate perseverance with going it alone, with muscling through the tough stuff all by ourselves. But the truth is, leaning on others doesn’t make you weak—it makes you smart. It gives you the tools and the encouragement you need to keep going.
Of course, not every lesson was easy to swallow. There were days I felt like I was failing. Days where the waves didn’t show up, where the weather turned bad, or where my body just said, “Nope, not today.” And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t question myself during those moments. But here’s the thing: perseverance isn’t about never feeling doubt. It’s about showing up anyway. Even when you’re tired, even when you’re frustrated, even when the odds aren’t in your favor, you paddle out because you know the effort is worth it.
And sometimes, perseverance means knowing when to take a break. I used to think that taking a rest day or skipping a session meant I wasn’t committed enough. But as this journey unfolded, I realized that pacing yourself is part of the process. Rest isn’t failure—it’s part of how you stay in the game. Because the truth is, you can’t persevere if you burn yourself out completely.
Looking back, I think the biggest takeaway is that perseverance isn’t about being perfect. It’s messy and frustrating and sometimes even embarrassing. It’s about falling and laughing and trying again, even when it feels like progress is moving at a snail’s pace. And more than anything, it’s about finding joy in the process, not just the outcome.
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