Wetsuits Are For Weenies


Last week I went to a triathlon clinic. Twenty minutes of the hour-long talk was lead by an older French man who owns a wetsuit company.

You need a wetsuit, he said. It needs to be triathlon specific and you need to get fitted for it now to have it by race day.

I’m a strong swimmer but extremely intimidated with open water swimming. That’s why I signed up for the triathlon. But I don’t want to buy a wetsuit. And I don’t want to rent one to use on race day when I haven’t trained with it.

This morning the triathlon hosted a swim practice in the river where we’ll race next weekend. The river typically has no public swim access so this was a rare and valuable event.

I was awake damn near all night nervous about swimming int he river. By the time I fell asleep, my alarm went off—along with a low rumble of thunder.

When I left the house at 7:30 this morning it was pouring rain. When I arrived at the river it was in the low 60’s and drizzling. When I walked over to the beach I saw it lined with 150 swimmers—all but one other person in a wetsuit.

The race director got on the megaphone while safety boats got into placement. You’ll all swim the sprint triathlon course, she said. Out to the first boat, around the back of it to the second boat, and back to shore.

I know I can swim the sprint distance. I’ve been training for it. But I looked at the furthest boat about 300 yards from shore and I’m not sure. I’d rather just test the water today, make sure I’m not an idiot for being one of two people wearing a Speedo. Wade in the shallow part, swim around, hop out and go back home and back to bed.

Then I decide to suck it up and do it.

I walked down the boat launch ramp into the water. I’m terrified. But the water is warm. I waded in deeper and watched the wetsuited swimmers ahead of me dolphin dive in and start swimming. I followed suit.

The water was so so so murky. I could see my hand in from of my face but not the swimmer two feet to the left or right. I freaked out for a few seconds—then took a deep breath and went.

My time in the water was a constant battle of freaking out and talking myself back to calm. I knew open water swimming is harder than swimming in a pool. I did my best to keep my eyes above water, which is much harder than keeping your face down, and picked a person or two to stay close with so I didn’t feel alone.

By the time I got to the turn around boat I thought hey—I’m doing this! I’m doing this without a wetsuit and I’m doing good at it! I’ve swam a gazillion laps and raced a gazillion times, but I’m not sure I’ve ever had the level of pride as I did when I walked up that boat ramp. I couldn’t help myself and asked a woman nearby waiting for her husband to finish to snap a photo for me—Speedo and all.


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