It is a Thursday afternoon in late September, as I watch the minute hand on the clock move slower than the rotation of the earth. Tropical storm Ernesto is about sixty miles off the coast of the Grand Strand, and I am stuck at work. The anticipation is debilitating, knowing that the biggest swell of the year is just a half a mile away. Even with only an hour to go it crosses my mind to just clock out and go. Seriously it is the biggest swell of the year, and they pay me third world sweat shop wages anyway. So I should just leave and deal with the consequences later. I ignore my impulse to leave, deciding it is probably best to have job.

After what seems like days, it is finally four o’clock. I rush out the door, run home to grab my board and jump in my car. With enough time to grab some wax and listen to one inspirational surf song, I arrive a my favorite public beach access. 

My feet dig into the sand, and I am finally there. I look out at the horizon, and see glorious liquid mountains forming up to twelve foot swells. Peeling both left and right, and dumping thick walls of white water with extreme force. I walk north up the beach, knowing the current will be pulling me south and fast. The wind is ferocious and blowing at speeds up to seventy miles per hour. The gusts are so strong and brutal, when it picks up the sand it feels like tiny shards of glass hitting your face. The rain feels like metal covered raisins dropping on top of your head. I had white bloody spots all over my forehead, where the skin was violently ripped off from the blasts of sand. I stand at the edge of the water, waiting for the perfect moment to get in the ocean. I have to time it just right, to ensure I do not get pummeled by all the white wash, and wear myself out before I even get out to the break.

After waiting for a few minutes, there is a break in the sets. I run out about shin high and jump on my board. I immediately began paddling as hard as I can. I am about half way out, and a giant face begins to generate out of nowhere. The wave looks like it is about to break, and I am paddling as fast as I can. Fortunately, I am able duck dive under the wave before it breaks, and come out the on other side. That was close, but only a few more yards and I’ll be at the breaking point. I sit on my board and let out a sigh of relief. The tension goes away, my shoulders start to loosen up, and my heart beat slows back down to normal.