Looking The Part

My husband and I have signed up to compete in a miniature triathlon. I am proud to say we are actually following through and doing it. To solidify our devotion we have been training for it and because it is being held in St. George, we have already booked a room. That clinches it, we have spent the fee to enter the race and we have booked a hotel room, we are going.
To tell you the truth, I have a love/hate desire to do this. Or perhaps it is a fear/control thing I have with it. This miniature race consists of running 1.5 miles. I can do that. Biking 5 miles. I can do that. And swimming 8 laps in a pool. Yikes. I don't know how to swim. I hate water on my face and I really, really hate wearing swim suits, in public or out of the public. I basically see swim suits as a mid-evil torture device.
Every year I take a pilgrimage to the Department stores in the Mall in search for that perfect swimming suit. You know the one; it miraculously changes your body image, physically and emotionally at an accelerated rate and the longer you wear it the skinnier you become. I don't know what's so hard about finding a suit like that. It has got to be out there...somewhere.
Last year I decided to buy one, via Internet through the Victoria Secret Web site.
It was great, well on line, it was great. I got to choose the color I wanted. I was able to mix and match different tops with different bottoms. I could decide which bottom style would work best on my body type and the best part was I didn't have to try to visualize it. Every time I tweaked something a picture of it was then transposed on a Victoria Secret Model. I loved it.
It was reasonably priced, too. So after about a week, I received a small package by UPS. It had arrived, my perfect suit!
I tore open the packaging and marveled at my brand new Lycra persona. I am going to look HOT this summer!
A few minutes into putting the suit on, reality hit me. It didn't matter how I posed in it, I did not look like the perfect specimen I saw on line. I have figured out what Victoria Secrets big secret is, AIR BRUSHING!
Another swim suit to put in my swim suit drawer of same.
Which brings me back to my little triathlon. I have a new suit. I actually tried it on at the store. Yes it was horrifying and yes I went immediately after and got a Blizzard from Dairy Queen.
It's an OK suit. It's used specifically for racing. It's a one-piece black Speedo brand with white racing stripes. Don't you love the psychology behind the racing stripes?
I also purchased a swimming cap, because I just had highlights and low lights put in my hair and I don't want them ruined by chlorine. Add to this my swim goggles and I definitely look the part, an Iron man triathlete.
Looking the part is quite different than acting the part ,however.
Every time I get into the lap pool (I don't dive in. I slowly lower myself in. Carefully submerging myself inch by inch, until it's colder having more than half of my body in and part of it out) and whimper and whine that the water is too cold.
I have gotten looks, quizzical, eye-rolling looks from people who actually like to swim and know how to swim. I think it is because I look like a professional but then I can only doggy paddle. I concede that the gurgling, panting and hyperventilating doesn't help to make me seem like an athlete either.
I have been asked, why on earth would I sign up for a miniature triathlon? I have to say, it's purely for bragging rights. When was the last time you did something really challenging for you and you did it? I can't remember the last time I accomplished something like this.
I am so excited to go for this. I am so excited to get out of my comfort zone and try something truly terrifying. Even if I drown doing it.
I don't expect to win. Actually, I have a suspicion I will be the woman that a search party will be looking for 7 hours after the race is over. They will be in their golf carts and waving flash lights into the brush off the side of the road. And where will I be?
Still screaming and panting that the lap pool is too cold. But at least I'll look like an Olympian swimmer, even if I don't have the decorum down.