Every year, I aim to take on one incredibly difficult challenge—something that pushes me beyond my limits. This year, I found my challenge at the Santa Cruz Paddlefest held at the legendary Steamer Lane.
The Santa Cruz Paddle Fest is a surf competition at one of the world’s best and most challenging waves in Santa Cruz, California. It’s nothing like my home break at San Onofre which is known for gentle, slow-rolling waves perfect for all abilities. San O is in stark contrast to Steamer Lane’s cold, wedgy, right hand waves that break dangerously close to the rocky cliff. Takeoffs are notoriously tricky, and the lineup is watched by crowds of spectators standing in the walkway above. Intimidating? Yes.
I experienced the Paddlefest at Steamer Lane once before ten years ago. During that competition, I took a fin to the head, which required over eighty stitches. Eighty! That experience left a scar, not just physically but mentally, making me hesitant to surf new places for a while after that. So when I heard that the surf competition was happening again, I surprised myself by immediately saying, “Yes, I’m going!”
Initially, I signed up to compete and surf the gentler break at Cowell's instead of Steamer Lane. But my friend Mel Wygal, an Infinity team rider, had other plans for us. Mel is a tiny, yet fierce, Filipino surfer known for her ever-present Plumaria flower behind the ear and infectious smile. She approached me with a request, “Change your entry and surf with me at the Lane.”
Mel is fearless, a tried and true badass. She has a way of inspiring those around her to push beyond their comfort zones. Her request was exactly what I needed to reach for more. I realized I had been hiding in my comfort zone, sticking to soft, easy waves ever since my injury. If I wanted to revive my adventurous side, this was my chance.
I agreed. Not because I wanted to compete against Mel, but because I was competing against my own fears.
A week before the contest, I checked the surf forecast. The report predicted 10-15 foot waves. Holy shit. 10-15 feet! Anxiety and self-doubt flooded in. I spent the next few days convincing myself I had every reason to back out. Everyone would understand. They knew about my initial injury at this break. I was a strong surfer at home, but fear has always been my biggest limitation.
But then, I thought about why I was even considering taking on this challenge. I have grown into the athlete I am today by putting myself into extreme situations. I have tested myself with times when I lacked the skill or comfort level but pushed through anyway. Each challenge has left me stronger, more skilled, and more confident.
Before I could officially withdraw, I sought the advice of my coach, Anthony Vela. Anthony is one of the best watermen I know. He is a former Los Angeles County lifeguard, a professional competitor and my coach at Performance Paddling, a high performance stand up paddle training and coaching clinic with local legends and iconic badasses in Dana Point, California. If anyone could offer me sound guidance, it was him.
Anthony listened, then calmly said, “You can back out, and that’s okay. But here’s another option. Keep your entry. When your heat is about to start, just break it down into small, manageable steps and see what happens.”
His first step was simple: “Go put on your competition jersey.”
After that? “Get your surfboard and put your feet in the water.”
Something about the way he broke it down for me made everything seem less terrifying. It allowed me to pause, breathe, and not get swallowed up by the fear. I knew I could take each of these small steps. I wasn’t sure if I could paddle out or catch a wave, but I could at least try.
And so, I did.
Despite the loud voices of fear screaming in my head, “No, no, no!” I took each small action to move forward. I am learning I am not alone in my fears. Even professional experienced surfers were intimidated by these ten-to-fifteen footers at the Lane. I watched as they each put on their jerseys and stepped into the water, just as anxious as I was.
Then, I witnessed something remarkable.
Each person who took that first step transformed. Every competitor who entered the water—whether they caught waves that day or simply survived—emerged somehow different. Stronger. Braver.
Would I be one of them? Only one way to find out.
