The Comfort Zone

As per usual I woke up on my day off and I'd usually go out early and catch some waves but the UK is in a gutter media hyped gammon-frenzy over that bloody Storm called 'Ciara' which isn't even a proper name, Hurricane Gary sounds much more threatening but after researching there is a weird non-storm sized pocket over the Tyne Coast. I'd popped to the cafe where I work and just hung about feeling incredibly bored and restless as hell.

The Met Office had advised not to go out but I thought they'd just got it wrong today... It was warm, with a bit of very normal rain. I got home and decided to throw caution literally to the wind and head East to Tynemouth, it could have been a mass of awful white froth or as I expected it was a vision of clean but windy as hell (think of getting pressure washed in the chops at close range).

As per usual I parked up and almost handbraked the car into the parking bay with childish excitement, rapidly slid into my wetsuit like that bit on Wallace & Gromit, applied a li'l extra sexy wax to the board and walked/legged it to the midsection of the beach, and boy it was good!

Now usually i'd be a bit apprehensive, I have two kids and I have to try to keep the recklessness in check but I approach the beach and it was well busy from end to end. I got in, got on and caught some crackers, some of those walls of water were super daunting for a newb! I got out, walked 100 metres down the beach and decided to get back in, used my remaining energy, then got out walked 100 metres up the beach and got back in again, each time it was sweet!

So let's look at comfort zones, If I hadn't stepped out of the C.Z. today and wallowed under the grey clouds, I wouldn't have experienced some lush waves under some moody skies and a full rainbow arch. I'd have sat at home being distant, wishing I was surfing being all moody and no fun whatsoever, I also wouldn't have experienced the immense happiness as I stood besides the van looking back at the sea watching a red moon rise over the North Sea.

One of the comfort zones I overcome was making myself a target to surf through winter (all the way through and... enjoy it!) not only do I enjoy it, I actually love every single minute of it... The cold, the pushing through angry waves, the falls, the fear and the occasional epic progression points like a sweet pop-up or that feeling when it just clicks!

Why I Started Surfing...

At the age of 44 I started to surf (aroundabout late Summer 2019), maybe on impulse or maybe it's always been there just waiting for the right time to dip my toe in. I've been told by a few folk I'm having a mid-life crisis (I assure you i'm not!), this rapidly developed into a nothing short of a full-on addiction.

Throughout 2019 (for reasons I won't go into) I started to suffer from spiralling bouts of anxiety of varying levels often followed by a bluesy depression and self doubt this would switch off my creative spark. I'd spoke to people about surfing before and decided to start the wheels turning to give it a go, saving a little cash to buy a second hand surfboard which i found on Facebook Marketplace, and a cheap wetsuit (which i thought was awesome at the time, looking back this wasn't the case) i started gradually improving my equipment, adding in warm boots and gloves and a balaclava type thing/surf hood as the months progression and as the temperature dipped each with every month, the colder it got the bigger the reward.

I found each time I decided to go surfing (some points during summer this would be every day!) my symptoms would subside temporarily, as I started the routine of filling up the van with boards and wetsuits etc, checking all the gear was present, and heading over the car congested flyover, out of Gateshead and down the coast road, breaking free into Tynemouth sometimes in the summer mornings then winter afternoons/evenings. I'd pull up on the bank at Tynemouth Longsands alongside the other surfers (some newbies, mainly intermediates and beyond) and swimmers on a morning (these don't generally wear wetsuits as they power through the icey waters), get changed into my gear, go get a parking ticket, wax up the board frantically as not to waste time or waves, survey the waves for a while and head out into the non-tropical North Sea waves hoping to catch anything that comes in my direction (true sign of a surf novice) until my energy eventually runs out, then shower off my board, push up the hill with a huge grin on my face, maybe say hello to other surfers and ritualistically get changed in the back of my cramped Citroen Nemo as the endorphins started to rush through my veins and head towards Tynemouth Village for an incredible Chip Stottie from Longsands Fish Kitchen (This is the reason i'm not ripped or sporting a sixpack... really!) and a Mocha at Coast until I regained the feelings in my hands. 1 - 2 hours of uninterrupted mindfulness amongst the cold waves between the beach and the sky, no phones, no worries and certainly no hassle. Nothing short of perfection.

Through my chunky thirties I've struggled to get lean, with a dad-hunch and pot belly to match it's took just 6 months of surfing and my back has straightened, i've lost a nearly a  full stone in weight and built some nice upper body strength which in turn has improved my mental state, I still get anxious and sometimes I feel a bit down, but at least I now know where the off switch is!