From the forecast check to the familiar smell of zinc sunscreen, surfing begins long before the first wave.

A surf morning can begin while you're still in bed.

You check the forecast. Then the wind. Then the message from the friend who is already asking where you're going.

The kettle goes on. You find the towel, pack the board and try to remember where you left the wax. Sunscreen goes on before you head outside, and the tin goes in the bag for later.

None of this would make a particularly impressive surf film.

Yet ask someone what they miss when they haven't surfed for a while, and the answer might include much more than catching waves.

The early drive. The familiar faces. A warm drink held between cold hands. That first look at the ocean, when the forecast finally becomes something you can see for yourself.

A lot of surfing happens around the surf.

When getting ready becomes part of the experience

We tend to describe surfing through the part that happens in the water. That makes sense. It is why we brought the board.

But think about how much of a session you already recognise before you paddle out.

The place you leave your shoes. The way you check the waves while pretending you haven't already decided to go in. The friend who needs another five minutes, every time.

These small actions give the morning a familiar shape.

Some are practical. You need the right equipment, and you need to prepare for the conditions. Others are harder to explain. You could drink your coffee somewhere else, but you like drinking it there.

Over time, the preparation can become something you look forward to in its own right.

I think this is part of why surfing can take up so much space in a person's life. The session reaches into the hours around it. It changes when you wake up, where you drive and who you spend time with.

The ocean begins to organise a little corner of your day.

The smell that takes you back

Surfing has a surprisingly familiar collection of smells.

Wax warmed by the sun. A damp wetsuit that really should have been rinsed. Coffee from the flask. The scent of sunscreen on your skin.

Some are more pleasant than others. That doesn't stop them from belonging to the experience.

For someone who uses a coconut-scented zinc sunscreen, opening the tin might bring back a particular surf trip. For someone else, that same smell belongs to childhood beach days, with a parent insisting on sunscreen while everyone else was already running towards the water.

There is research behind the feeling that a scent can take you back. In a study comparing smell, sight and sound as memory cues, psychologist Rachel Herz found that the memories evoked by smell were more emotional and evocative than those prompted by the same cues in other forms.

That doesn't mean every scent has the same effect on everyone. The association is personal.

A smell you barely noticed at the time can later bring a whole scene into focus: the place, the people and how it felt to be there.

And when you encounter it regularly before surfing, it can become part of the anticipation too.

You're still getting ready, but your attention is already moving towards the water.

Looking after yourself belongs in the ritual

Sunscreen has a practical job before it has an emotional association.

Choosing it for a familiar scent or texture doesn't replace choosing appropriate protection and using it properly. Make sure to apply sunscreen before going outdoors, reapply regularly and after swimming or sweating, and combine it with other sun protection such as a sun hat and sunglasses.

But something practical can become a welcome part of getting ready.

Taking a moment to apply sunscreen. Making sure your friend remembered theirs. Packing it somewhere you can find it when you come back in.

These are small acts of care inside an activity that often encourages us to rush.

The waves look good. Someone is already halfway down the beach. You want to join them.

Having a familiar preparation routine gives looking after yourself a place in the morning, alongside checking the conditions and packing the board.

It is also part of how surf habits pass between people. A friend lends you wax. Someone reminds you to bring water. You learn what to pack because another surfer once had the thing you forgot.

Eventually, you're the one remembering it for someone else.

What stays when the waves disappoint

There are mornings when the surf never becomes what you hoped it would.

The wind changes. The tide doesn't help. You spend far more time paddling than standing.

Still, you might leave glad you went.

You saw your friend. You spent some time outside. You had a conversation beside the car that would never have happened if you had stayed in bed.

Those parts of surfing deserve some credit too.

They give you something to return to when progress is slow or the conditions refuse to cooperate. A familiar way to spend a morning, even when the session itself is forgettable.

And you don't need to surf at dawn for any of this to matter. Your version might happen after work, on a Sunday with your children or during the one surf trip you manage each year.

The details will be different. They can still become yours.

Next time you're getting ready, notice which part you're already enjoying.

The coffee? The drive? The smell of your wax or sunscreen? The moment you spot a familiar board coming down the path?

You might find that some of the things you love most about surfing happen before you've caught a wave.