Sunday, 1 May 2011

Revenge of the killer wetsuit

It was all arranged with the very best of intentions.


I even had a dry run to practice. Literally.

Marooned on her raised flowerbed, LCM seeks to swim
her way back to the bath tub

In light of upcoming events, including the 'taster' session in a couple of weeks' time, it seemed only wise to get in some proper open water swimming practice. I mean, you don't want to show yourself up on the day, do you, and have the rescue launch coming out along with all the race marshals and paramedics and priests reading the last rites to haul you out of Dorney Lake whilst friends and family look on aghast preoccupied distracted by the lycra-clad athletes?

No, I thought not.

So I squeeeeeeeezed into Geordie Girlfriend's wetsuit once more. Think this is easy? Think again. BB had said the day before that she needed to lose weight fast to get back in to hers, and then proceeded to eat an entire bowl of baby roasted potatoes. The fact that she managed to pull her wetsuit on in about two minutes flat the morning of the open water swim tells me that she is either lying (unless she swapped it for a bigger size when I wasn't looking) or had coated herself in Vaseline.

I did spot this lippy stuff ominously close to where she was getting suited up,


so I guess possibly a case of the latter. Either way, impressive stuff. Whilst she was ready to rock'n'roll, I was still at a standstill with one leg half in, a tangle of black rubber round my ankles and rapidly losing the will to fight with the PVC. Visions of spray-on wetsuits were crossing my mind.

The Wine Writer had managed to get lost en route to the venue, but after half a dozen panicked phone calls eventually found us. We thought the huge red flags at the side of the road that has nothing else of note nearby (aside from the slightly obvious lake on your right) might have helped. ("Where? Where? I can't see them...", "Red flags, big ones, flapping...")


We are considering getting her a pair of glasses. She might have already been wearing her swimming goggles due to her tardy arrival, hence the distorted vision. However we were so glad to see her, I failed to notice.

Anyway. Where was I? Oh yes, the open water swim.

It went something like this (I have compiled a photo montage for you, so you can judge for yourselves):

WW - What's that?
BB - A swim cap.
WW - Really? Where do you put it?
I see we are not the only nutters in the water at this hour
LCM - Yay! Let's go girls!
BB & WW - This is all her idea

And then the post-event roll call.

WW - I survived
BB - I survived
LCM - I survived but my face is frozen and I am having an

exceptionally bad hair day already

Of course, one trusty blogger friend was most concerned:





Actually, I lie. The wetsuit won. It's back to Geordie Girlfriend now for my rubber ex-mate. Strangulation mid lap in a lake where you cannot touch the bottom is not really that much fun. Especially when you have to compete with the likes of BB (already racing with the pros round the 750m course) and WW (storming ahead despite only learning front crawl two months ago).
Geez, friends, eh? Who needs them? Of course they thought the whole wetsuit saga hysterical. Tsk.

Fortunately the venue had other beauties to hand for those who needed to swap PVC. I thought of trading in my training partners as well but then remembered BB had the keys to the car.

I have my eye on something else now. Very sleek. I might even have to change my avatar.

Loverly jubberly and strangulation-free

And so to the obvious question: are we doing it again?

You betcha.


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