Most of the mid life crises above seem to be just shopping decisions.
Getting into surfing aged 39 involved some shopping. It also involved career imperiling last minute diving off work for the coast/buggering off to lanka. Then there was the relationship imperiling amounts of time away from home in vans around the UK, in car parks with younger guys dressed in rubber. What I regret most in retrospect is time away from my kids at weekends. Not that I didn’t spend weeks each summer in france shouting at them to paddle harder (putting them off for life). Then there’s the utterly perverse in financial terms house on the coast, that the by then teenagers had far better things to do than go to. It goes on.
Whatever, things held together but I never got, and 16 years later seem unlikely ever to get, any good at actual surfing. Hey ho. But as Tony Soprano said, waddyagonnado?