I normally get my swimming, biking or running (which is currently elliptical training due to hip pain) done in the morning and then focus on strength training at night, but with only a month to go now until the baby Bribie Triathlon it is time to pull out all the stops. I will still do strength training when I can, but running, cycling and swimming may now appear sporadically in the PM time-frame as well as the AM.
For instance, today felt like it would turn into the perfect night for a swim. It nagged at me all of this morning. I could hear the pool calling my name.
Get your butt down here, Loser! It called.
This bothered me more than usual because I agreed that I really wanted and needed to do a swim tonight instead of strength training. But I didn’t have a swimming costume.
Get your naked butt down here, Loser! The pool taunted.
I’d planned to buy a new costume a bit later this week, because I was at the point of feeling sick at how much I was eating into my savings over Christmas and my monthly pay is due in just a few days. (Thank you esteemed employer, I
do hate you know we have our ups and downs but pay day is definitely the only reason I keep putting up with your crap an up)
This morning, though, the idea of ‘later in the week’ seemed like such a long time away. I couldn’t decide whether I would feel more sick about spending yet more of my savings, or about ignoring the pool’s call and missing an opportunity for a good swim. I had to choose one.
I had been dutifully researching beautiful, proper swimming costumes online for weeks. Cossies that would last for a year or more, easily. I coveted more than one of the amazingly gorgeous Funkita pieces. I even bought and paid for a quality Speedo costume just before Christmas, but then got a refund because three days later the shop decided they didn’t have the one I had chosen in stock after all, so I spent the money on beer instead. Because it was Christmas.
I could have forced myself to swim in my bikini a few more times, until I could buy things using normal money instead of the sacred Savings Account that causes physical pain each time I detract sums from it.
I finally decided that I definitely needed to go for a swim, and I definitely needed a new costume, and that eating into my savings was definitely less bad if I only nibbled at them rather than taking a one hundred dollar gob-full. So I had to forget the Funkitas: K-Mart was my best option. Will I ever learn? Probably not. My father is tight with his money; I blame him. My lunch break eventually crawled around (like, slower than a turtle – I’m pretty sure I worked three days this morning) and I decided to make a run for it.
I drove with my foot hard on the pedal, dashed into the car park of the Morayfield Shopping Centre, ran up the escalator, steamrolled a few old people out of the way and honed in on the swimming section of the jumble sale that is K-Mart. There were swimsuits galore and I immediately focused my attention on the ‘performance one-piece’ that came in either blue or black for $15. That is $5 cheaper than my previous swimming costume from Big W. I am actually going backwards in value. But it said performance and my egotistical chest immediately puffed out.
I inspected the tags – no mention of being chlorine resistant but it did say ‘Lycra xtra life’ which convinced me in the shop that I was onto a good thing.
Furthermore, the entire front bodice was lined from shoulder to hip, a luxury that my previous costume did not afford. I felt buoyed by the quality craftsmanship and care in design that had clearly been painstakingly provided by the clever people at K-Mart. I started to suspect that Big W had ripped me off. The previous costume had made no mention of performace either. Maybe this was where I had gone so badly wrong?
I spent about 1.5 seconds pondering the purchase and then grabbed a blue one lying on the floor that appeared to be in my size, snarling at the other shopper who seemed to be leaning in to grab the same item. She fled. I flung my arms out to the side and swooped over to the checkouts, taking out the enemy clothesline-style. I was out of there 2 minutes later.
It’s funny how our simple human brains work, but I was ever so excited about getting down to the pool to try out my new swimming costume. Yes, the crap costume pictured above that looks like something an old granny would wear and cost me $15. And is very not flattering. Maybe I am just easily pleased.
I was even more excited when, upon further inspection of the tags, I found that ‘Lycra xtra life’ means it ‘resists fit loss and fiber breakage caused by pool water’ which I think is probably the same thing as being ‘chlorine resistant’. How exciting! And another tag (seriously, the tags must have cost them at least a dollar, how are they making money on this thing?) reassured me that my new swimming costume features flat seams for less chafing, stretch fabric for comfort (has anyone ever made a swimming costume that isn’t stretchy?) and as an added bonus the material is UPF 50 – so I am guaranteed to get sun tan lines in this suit! Woo hoo!
After another three days, it was 5pm and the working day was finally over. I proudly put on my new cossie, wrapped my towel around the pavlovas nestled in my belly, and set off for the pool. Unfortunately I still need a new swimming cap – the current one has a hole in it where I stuck my finger nail through it. But it’ll do.
I got to the pool at rush hour on squad day, so there were only 3 lanes for us mere mortals to swim in. The Triathlon Gods must have liked my new cossie though, because by some miracle I nabbed a lane all to myself. I still can’t quite believe it, and it sent joy through my heart.
I jumped in, practiced my breathing and set off on a 1500 metre swim… which was successful! And a bit hard. And a lot uncoordinated. But successful.
It’s entirely possible that my new ‘performance’ swimsuit could be my key to riding the elusive Unicorn that is Improvement all the way to the finish line of Bribie!