I was a hater when the stand-up paddleboarding craze hit. At the time I was an intern at Outside magazine, and the attitude there was very much “Oh God, here we go.” Like it was going to be somewhere between rollerblading and crossfit (a little bit ridiculous, cultish, and misunderstood). Except my officemate, who wouldn’t shut up about the sport.

I gave her too little credit. Now I’m hooked. Who’d have thought my 83-year-old grandma would be the catalyst? She’s always been a great enabler, gifting sporting goods to her clan before we even realized we needed them. Kayaks at the lake, a snowboard upon which I immediately broke my arm. When she suggested selling the old motorboat in the wake of my grandpa’s death, and replacing it with a couple paddleboards, it seemed … perfect.

And it was. I didn’t feel nearly as ridiculous as I would have expected just a couple years ago. I didn’t fall in. It’s actually decent exercise, especially for the core. You can do it with a back injury. The “Hey! This is fun!” moment came virtually instantly.

The boards we bought were two $750 “Dura-Ace” paddleboards from Bic sports. (Somehow, Bic makes pens, lighters, and paddleboards. One of these things is not like the other.) “Dura” because you can knock it about without too much worry, and “Ace” because … it helps your poker game. Or something.

This particular board sits atop the water, rather than cutting through it like a kayak. Pretty near the whole family tried it, to great success. It’s less ideal for long distance and carrying gear. But I’m pigheaded enough to go for miles around the lake in all directions.

My daytime fantasies now consist of loading one of these up with a couple dry sacks worth of gear and setting off on a long-distance adventure, portaging my way through northern Minnesota and maybe Canada.

They’re slow, of course—a kayak will outpace you without even trying, especially into any kind of wind—but if you’re chasing solitude, they’re great.

As you become more comfortable, the anchor of your feet to the board transitions from a firm plant to a symbiosis, and you roll on the chop underneath the board like you’re one with it. At night, after a long day on the board, the waves keep passing beneath you in bed.

People around the lake always comment—everybody seems like they’re thinking about buying one.

Wind is maddening. Especially when you need to get somewhere fast, like that time I got caught in a thunderstorm and had to seek shelter on a little island. Overreacting? Maybe. But it seemed unwise to be out on the water with a seven-foot carbon-fiber paddle lightning rod.

I’ve noticed I’m seeking out more alone time. And during that time, I think. Or I don’t. The movement and the swell of the water takes the place of your problems, your consciousness. It’s liquid meditation.

This isn’t unique to paddleboarding of course. That’s what bicycling does, too. That’s why I put on headphones and snowboard alone. But it’s my new favorite escape.

So here’s my promise. The next time someone talks up a trend to me, I’ll be a little more forgiving. Maybe I’ll even try it, and now wait several years. Except of course fat bikes. Those are ridiculous. Get out of here with that.