 The route of our open-water swim: we headed from shore to the yellow buoy and back, a distance of 340 meters. Look at the trees; no doubt about the 25-35 mph winds that day!  Yay! I got the wetsuit on: right side out AND frontwards. There may be hope for me yet!  Aquawoman! | As soon as I stumbled on the Iron Girl Triathlon website, there was no turning back. I saw that colorful, flower-shaped logo, and I was hooked. Reading further sealed the deal. This was a *sprint* triathlon: a nifty, miniature three-sport race, comprised of an 800-meter swim, an 18.6-mile bike ride and a 3.1-mile run. This athletic gem was within my capabilities. Although I knew I could do it, I also knew I'd need training. Training is a bit foreign to me. Other than a few joint sessions with a personal trainer, I've never specifically trained for any event. Of course, I'd never done any events, either, until last year. I've done pretty well with my own quirky workout techniques. For all the events I did last year, I came in middle-of-the-pack. Not bad, IMHO. I did the Muddy Buddy in March 2010, after only about a month riding a bicycle (since high school) and no running experience. I had the most "training" for Scale the Strat because I'd been doing multiple sets of stairs at work for years. I'm not sure I could have trained for the Warrior Dash in Colorado; how do you train to crawl under barbed wire or jump over 4-foot walls of fire? Some things, ya just gotta go with. But a triathlon is different. Layering three different sports takes preparation, so I decided to get some help. That lead me to Stephanie at The Fitness Source, a charming gal who explained her program to me and invited me to an open-water swim clinic out at Lake Las Vegas, the site of the Iron Girl race. The only catch: I was gonna need a wetsuit. |
Well, according to Stephanie, I needed one. Grumbling to myself, I remembered that I reached out to her for her expertise, and perhaps I'd better listen to her suggestions.
So, the evening before the clinic, I headed to Las Vegas Cyclery to try on a rental wetsuit. The clerk asked my height and weight and pulled out three suits for me to try. I slipped into the bathroom and tried to slip into a wetsuit. Nothin' doin'. I pulled and tugged and hopped until I sorta got the suit on. There was no zipping it on my own. I pulled at the fabric; seemed like it would zip up - with help. I redressed and took the suit out the desk.
It wasn't until the clerk turned the suit right side out that I realized I'd tried it on inside out. No wonder it wasn't going on! I was embarrassed even though he had no idea. Good thing I didn't say anything!
I got the suit home and shared the story with my husband, who proceeded to laugh hysterically. He laughed even harder when I tried the suit on again, backwards this time. Ugh! Was there no end to the trials and tribulations of this darn wetsuit!?! And how was I going to avoid looking like a complete boob at tomorrow's clinic??
I finally got the suit on correctly, and Mike zipped me up. It was super snug, but I could move in it. Okay... that was good. How was I going to handle getting it on the next day, though? Should I wear the suit in the car out to Lake Las Vegas - a 45-minute drive? Or, should I rely on the kindness of complete strangers to zip me into the neoprene sausage casing when I got there?
In the end, I chose faith in my fellow competitors, and one of them was gracious enough to zip me up once I got the suit on - helped by something called Body Glide. Another couple of benevolent strangers loaned me a swim cap and goggles. I was completely unaware that I needed them. Doh!
It was brisk out at Lake Las Vegas: 55 degrees in the air, 50 degrees in the water with 25-35 mph winds. We were actually glad to be wearing our wetsuits on land. The coordinator of the clinic told us we were champs just to be there because the conditions were "hardcore". I felt pretty badass. I'd braved the conditions and conquered the wetsuit; the water had nothin' on me.
And, it really didn't have anything on me when we finally headed into the lake. It was a little chilly, especially when I splashed some water down the front of my suit to build a layer of liquid insulation for the swim. Once I got going, though, I was fine. The hardest part was actually the wind raising a stinging spray and hindering my vision, even with the goggles. Side swimming helped with that.
It was surprising how draining the wind and the cold were, but I still completed the 340-meter course, just under half of what I'll be doing on April 30th for the race.
I came out empowered, knowing that the wetsuit was the worst of it, and since I'd beaten that beast down, I'd be fine with the water.
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