Keeping the dream alive – the lunch hour surf
I check the time as I swing out of my chair, its 12:18 and
lunch hour the clock starts. I walk briskly down the corridor towards the beckoning
exit sign, I’m trying not to look like I’m rushing. I don’t want to raise
suspicion.
The cool easterly hits me as I escape out of the backdoor
into the carpark, its definitely picked up since this morning, but still looks
almost offshore, I stay positive.
Past the city green and I’m out of eyeshot of the office, I
start to jog.
12:22, I reach the backdoor. My wife has taken the boys out
to lunch at a friend’s place, and I struggle with the stubborn lock on the back
door before racing inside to get changed. I contemplate pulling on my wetsuit,
the water is getting cold its probably about 15-16 degrees maybe, but a wetsuit
will steal precious minutes or potential surf time. I tell myself to suck it up
and I don the boardies and thongs.
12:24, I struggle to ride my bike through the narrow side
gate with my board under my arm. Its my latest wooden mini simmons, its not glassed,
and almost completely solid, its not light and I’m barely managing to balance
on the bike with the 8kgs of wood under one arm.
12:26, I’m on my way cruising down the shared footpath
dodging an elderly couple walking their little dog, I’m hoping that there are
no chance encounters with anyone from work on the way.
12:32, I pull up at the beach, the surf club is the closest
access and the wind is straight cross shore. The swell is solid, about a foot
overhead on the sets, there are some good peaks, but its choppy. Normally I’d
keep looking but after the craziest morning at work, and only 46 minutes left
of my lunch hour I head straight out. I lock up the bike and I’m running
through the shallows by 12:34.
12:58, I check my watch and this wave will have to be last.
It shaping up to be a good left, I drop down a lumpy 7ft face, the sharp rails
and momentum of the timber board cut through the water like a knife. Easing
into a long bottom turn, I then set a high line racing under the lip as the
wave starts to peel. All of a sudden I’m way out on the shoulder, burying my trailing
hand in the wave I rip this freight train of a surfboard back toward the
pocket. I bounce off the foam and by dragging one arm in the wave I lock into
the little pocket. I make a quick shuffle down the board and attempt to hang
five, I hold it for a second too long and the nose begins to dive. I dive off
the back into waist deep water only meters from the beach. Adrenaline pumping,
water up my nose and sand in my hair, the craving is sedated for now.
1:07, I know I’m out of shape and I’m stuffed after riding
up the hill, my back tyre is really flat and I feel the rim bounce over every
bump in the path. Pushing hard for last few hundred meters I make it home by
1:09.
1:12, I’m still tucking in my shirt as I lock the back door
heading back to work. I finger comb my damp and possibly still sandy hair as I
hurry down the street back towards the office.
1:15, I bite into my apple that I grabbed on the way out of
the house as I swipe my card and walk back through the back door.
1:16 I’m consciously trying to keep my breathing normal as I
sit back down at my desk, no one has said anything and no out of the ordinary
weird looks. I’ve done it! I can’t help the silly grin that spreads across my
face. Only my second lunch hour surf for the year and its saved me from the
brink of the 8 to 5 oblivion. The dream lives on.