Race 16. Feins sprint triathlon (retro Cesson)

Knowing in the next ten days I had to do a grand prix and then Alpe d’Huez triathlon, I decided to dodge the fight in the Olympic distance race and do the sprint race. This meant no money but no pressure and I could save what little energy my feeble body can hold, for the following races. As I knew I would have little pressure I decided to race in the theme of retro Cesson. Out came the long socks, budgie smugglers, 1986 fluro Cesson top (thanks Pierre for that relic), and head band. I stupidly decided to do the swim in the long socks, under the wetsuit. They were fine for the swimming section, as I was barely able to notice them there, but for getting in out of the water, they were nothing short of treacherous. The Fiens race is in a pretty little lake, but the entry and exit point have a bit of algae present and on the run in I felt like I was on ice. I skidded into my final belly flop horizontal position, hoping people watching would think it was all part of a planned technical dive sequence. At the exit quite a crowd had gathered and by the time I arrived I had a handy 30 or 40 second lead so decided to give them a look at my full out fit that had been hidden until that point beneath my wetsuit. Well they were all clapping and cheering and yelling, so it all felt like a successful strip tease. I was waiting for someone to slip a five euro note in my number belt all the time hoping not to have a horrible wardrobe malfunction with my Engine swim trunks (if you can get what I am saying). Puling off the lower section of my wetsuit I was happy to find all that should be inside my bathers was in fact in there! I was nearing the end of my performance, and people were clapping, laughing and commenting on the outfit that was seductively being exposed as I peeled away my neoprene outer skin when my slippery socks gave way from under me. I fell down so, removed the final portion of my wetsuit in a face down, bum up position, on the swim exit ramp, in some type of caterpillar motion. I thanked the crowd, picked up my wetsuit, searched for my dignity, realized that was lost so ran on towards my awaiting bike. I managed to complete the remainder of the course without too much incident. The only other thing I need to mention is that racing in swim bathers the same size as children’s underwear is not the fantastic idea you have been imaging! Within the first 5km of riding I had noticed that the inside of my leg was a little sore and noted it was rubbing a little on my seat. By 15k the situation had progressed to the point that I had to ride with my knees pointing outwards. I must have resembled some kind of stick insect perched upon a bike, but the discomfort was too great to consider normal riding technique. I even tried squirting water on it for some relief and perhaps create some lubrication, but this did little to aide the current problem, and in fact produced another. The addition of water to the front of my bathers just looked like I, hadn’t made it to the toilet. Thankfully sometime during the 5 km run they dried and the sniggers and giggles from the crowd subsided a little, and attention was again directed to my attire rather than my bladder control, or lack of it. I crossed the line, had a quick interview with the commentator, who didn’t bat an eyelid to what I was wearing, then headed back to the bus, to get away form all the stares.