back in your box (end)

The first competitive open water swim of the season (and possibly my last) was a 5k at Box End, near Milton Keynes. A nice little event (wetsuit optional) in a nice little lake with some nice little people. There were other distances too

With a water temperature of 13C ish and a cut off time of 2 hours, preparation for this swim was by way of a diversion and for building distance en route a la manche.

I was planning to have swum at least this distance each week for the 4 weeks prior to this event, but had done so only once.

As crucial as this swim was to me and my preparations, it was overshadowed by two unrelated matters.

The first of these was the simmering rivalry between slightly intense, though likeable, up and coming cold and open water swimmer, South African Rudi "pit bull" Keyser and the longer in the tooth- but still toothsome some would say (see DYST passim), erudite Medieval French Professor, thinking woman's swim crumpet, Paul Smith.

Rudi's opening foray was the bone crushing handshake to leave no one in any doubt as to who was, in fact, the daddy. Paul countered with, "Rudi has been putting in some very good times lately" and, "Well, as you know I haven't really been swimming much these last few weeks."

About the second thing, more later.

The day started agreeably enough with a pleasant drive up from Hertfordshire with Michael Hawkins, gentile Windermere aspirant, generously taking the time to show me a great deal of the surroundings of Box End in ever decreasing circles until finally we stumbled upon the Venue itself.

 I bumped into itnerant nutritional expert Raf Oya as we waited to register for our races. He was propounding the virtues of his latest experimental swim feed, beer the night before and a Kitkat breakfast a couple of hours before the swim.

He neglected to mention whether the Kitkat was the 2 or 4 fingered variety. Probably top secret I thought to myself.

The entire skins contingent, the last group to enter the water

Presently we assembled in the traditional pre briefing skins swimmer's huddle in various states of undress, some sporting proprietry brands such as the now almost ubiquitous D&%4@be (a dual purpose garment designed to keep you warm before or after OW swimming and make you look like a dosser or bag lady, albeit one with a brand label plastered all over him or her.

At this point Michael Hawkins sauntered up in what looked suspiciously like a smoking jacket looking for all the world like some kind of rakish fop. A pipe and and a pair of galoshes, perhaps a monacle would have completed the look.

As if this weren't enough, he stripped off to reveal brilliant white pornstar speedos barely concealing only certain parts of his classical Michelangelo Davidesque physique.

All this proved quite disconcerting, but didn't prevent normal service being resumed, as, at the end of the swim, I enjoyed as the last man, er... floating, the walk-of-shame-escort-off-the-lake-by-the-entire-safety-crew.