There are no secrets when you don a wet suit.
There’s nowhere to hide, nowhere to run, every inch of your body is on display.
That little love handle you’ve become adept at hiding in your regular clothes, seems to jut out like a marshmallow on an ice cream cone.
This is what I learned last night when trying on wet suits.
I had been warned that getting a wetsuit on is half the battle and while I didn’t struggle as much as I thought, as I pulled each leg on and yanked it up little by little sweat beads started to form on my forehead.
I guess I’ve figured out why triathletes are the best athletes on the planet. Forget doing three sports, it’s getting into the wet suit that I give them credit for.
Once I got it on I immediately worried about how it was going to come off.
As I walked towards the mirror feeling like a giant bratwurst sausage, I didn’t feel particularly athletic as my legs didn’t have the same mobility because they were constricted by the suit.
I felt like the suit was choking me around my neck, which according to the lovely lady at the store who was helping me, is exactly how I’m supposed to feel.
“It will feel different in the water,” she promised.
I should certainly hope so.
Having the feeling of a boa constrictor squeeze you wasn’t what I was looking for on race day.
Thank goodness I didn’t get one with sleeves or I would have to plan an escape route should I hit the water and not have mobility in all four of my limbs.
Why endure this humbling experience?
Well I initially thought I wouldn’t worry about it for my first race, but then someone mentioned they make you more buoyant in the water.
Believe me it was hard to picture as I stood there in the mirror wondering how this heavy, dark suit that made me feel one with a seal, would help me float better.
I am still a little concerned about how you get this thing off fast after your soaked in race, but I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it.
This weekend is the test for the wetsuit.
Hopefully it’s as good as everyone promises.
In the meantime happy trails.