Just Add SPF
At home, I need a reason to work out. On holiday, I’ll hike in flip flops to see a goat, then pretend to speak Italian to rent a paddleboard. Why I only say yes to new sports when I’m sunburnt and off-grid.
By Ali Wong
I do yoga in my living room four times a week. Sometimes five, if I’m putting something off. I go to the gym as well, though I never call it that. I say things like “I’m heading to lift,” as if skipping the word ‘gym’ makes me sound less like someone trying to turn their life around in January and more like someone who knows her way around a barbell. My wife, who’s a proper athlete with carved-out quads and a Garmin she wears to bed, says my deadlift form is surprisingly decent for someone who still forgets to eat breakfast.
So I’m not unfit. I’m not afraid of sport. I know how to move. But for reasons I haven’t quite worked out, I only allow myself to enjoy certain types of sport in one very specific setting: abroad, in the sun, with an Aperol Spritz waiting somewhere in the distance.
On holiday, I become someone else entirely. I’m the woman with sand in her eyebrows, lunging at a volleyball she has no business trying to hit. I paddleboard before breakfast. I’ll kayak, hike, climb a hill for a view that turns out to be average. I’ll swim even if the water’s cold. Once, in Spain, I played a full beach soccer match with eight teenagers from Barcelona and a Labrador named Jorge. I don’t speak Spanish. I don’t even like soccer (sorry, this is a British based publication… I mean ‘football’!!). But there I was, flailing and laughing and very much alive.
Then I come home. And I go back to lifting, yoga, and striding purposefully through Manhattan like it counts as cardio. And I do not, under any circumstances, paddleboard.
It’s not a question of access. This is New York. You can do anything here if you’re willing to pay and ignore the smell of the Hudson. There are volleyball leagues, paddleboard clubs, rooftop tennis, underground climbing gyms with eucalyptus towels and playlists curated by someone who probably used to DJ in Berlin. It’s all right there. But I never sign up. I never go.
Instead, I file those holiday moments away as extras. Temporary versions of me who only come out when I’m lightly sunburnt and not checking my email. Like a sports alter ego who only emerges when it smells SPF 30.
I’ve been trying to work out why- at first, I blamed geography. On holiday, the ground is flatter, the air is warmer, and nobody’s watching. You don’t need to be good at paddleboarding. You don’t even need to stay upright. Volleyball rules are irrelevant because everyone’s playing in flip flops and slightly drunk. No clipboard. No registration fee. No form asking for “emergency contact” or whether you’re a beginner, intermediate, or advanced (please be honest).
But it’s more than that. It’s not just where I am. It’s what I allow. When I’m away, I give myself full, joyful permission to be average. To be new at something. To try without needing a plan. I don’t expect to be good. I don’t expect to keep going. That kayak session isn’t a gateway to a new lifestyle. It doesn’t need to be repeated. I’m doing it because it’s there and it looks fun. That’s enough.
commitment
At home, I lose that softness. Everything feels like it has to mean something. If I sign up for soccer, I’ll need proper shoes. A fixed schedule. A commitment to show up even when I’m knackered. If I try paddleboarding in the city, it stops being a casual morning out and starts becoming A New Thing I Do. I’ll feel pressure to explain it to people. Why I’m doing it. How often. Whether it’s worth it. I start planning. Strategising. Is this my new hobby? Should I buy the gear?
And then, quite reasonably, I get overwhelmed and go back to yoga.
My wife finds this baffling. She’s the sort of person who learns to ski in January and is doing races by March. I love that about her. I also can’t relate to it in the slightest. She thrives on structure. She needs goals. She once had a spreadsheet for training and recovery. I have a notes app that just says “Don’t forget to stretch” and a recurring calendar alert that reads “Don’t flake”.
Holiday sport is the opposite of that. That’s the beauty of it. It’s useless in the best way. It doesn’t matter if you fall off the board or miss the ball or get a nose full of seawater. Nobody’s watching. Nobody’s filming it for Instagram. Nobody’s giving you feedback.
At home, I don’t often get that freedom. Every workout is trackable. Every new interest feels like a potential side hustle. You can’t just jog anymore, you need to train for something. You can’t take a class without posting your stats. You can’t play without wondering whether you should be improving.
And maybe that’s what I’m really trying to say here. Maybe that’s the point. I think a lot of us are split between two versions of ourselves. The person who treats sport like a job, and the person who treats it like play. The one who lifts because it’s in the routine, and the one who dives in just because the water looks inviting. We know how to move. But we’ve forgotten how to play. And maybe that’s worth noticing.
Because the world doesn’t often reward softness. It rewards structure. Goals. Measurable outcomes. Resilience. If you’re not getting better, the message is that you’re wasting time. But I think there’s power in opting out of that. Sometimes. I think there’s value in doing something that doesn’t make you money, build your brand, or tone your arms. I think joy is a perfectly good reason.
So yes, I’m writing about paddleboarding on holiday. But I’m also writing about permission. About trying something for no reason at all. About remembering that sport doesn’t need to be serious to matter.
Maybe you don’t need to join the league. Maybe you just need to say yes the next time someone hands you a racket. Maybe you don’t need a habit. Maybe one-off joy still counts.
And maybe, the next time I’m in New York and spot a board rental on the river, I’ll stop pretending it’s not for me. Maybe I’ll try it, once, and let that be enough. Not to prove anything. Not to become anyone new. Just to play.
Do you leave your favourite sport behind at passport control? Tell us what you only try on holiday and why over on social @glorioussport.
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