There is something special about the smell of neoprene. Regardless of my physical location and proximity to the ocean the smell of wetsuit material whisks me right to the waters edge. Fortunately this comes without the urge to pee until I am actually immersed.
As it happens however there are more than one of these Pavlovian conditions installed in my operating system. The other is the smell of saltwater which, after a few sweet deep breaths, invariably induces the need to poo.
For years I wondered exactly what might have caused this particular association. Perhaps something to do with the high-fiber peanut butter sandwiches I used to make for my dawn patrol surf sessions each morning? Or was it in anticipation of the enormous Bustamante's breakfast to come, our apres surf tradition in Pacific Beach. (For years the name Bustamante became part of bodily function vernacular, as in "oooooooh I have to Bust a mante!)
After much speculation, consideration and general parlor room banter I decided on the theory that the smell of saltwater causes a total state of relaxation in my body. There are few things in this world that match the nurturing awe, love and compassion of Mother Ocean's greeting. As a result the stress and tensions simply fall away and with them their hold on the residues of yesterday.
I have learned to get up earlier, hopefully making time to vacate the premises before leaving however the pavlovian conditioning I have come to accept remains well ingrained. As a result some long days at sea are much longer than others but in the end it all washes away with the outgoing tides.