I grew up in Upstate NY. We didn’t have beaches, but there were some ponds or lakes for swimming. The idea of swimming with turtles, fish and stinky seaweed in most often deep waters didn’t appeal to me. So I grew up without, the few times I did swim were when visiting highly chlorinated pools. It’s really a wonder that I know how to swim given the real lack of exposure to it, but I do know how to swim. I’m not the most confident of swimmers – but I am not afraid of getting my face wet.  I am, however, afraid of going in the ocean. 

My first exposure to the ocean and waves was as an adult, my husband and I were vacationing in Hilton Head and on our first day of the vacation I got stung by a jellyfish in the ocean. The remainder of the vacation I spent lounging at the resort pool with the vow to never again enter the ocean.   As the saying goes, never say never.  A few years later I found myself moving to the Jersey Shore, with kids and the ocean literally in our backyard – ok, its a few miles away (which is pretty darn close).  I spent the first few years living in NJ only going to the beach with my husband and never as much getting my feet wet. But my kids demanded more of me. It was time to dive in despite my fears, no matter how rational or irrational they may be.

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