Sea Swim Fitness: Does my bum look big in this wetsuit?

The answer, I have learned today, is always - without any conceivable exceptions - a resounding "no". Now, I have always believed that honesty and integrity are the best principles on which to live one's life. But, when conversing with a member of the fairer sex, it is perhaps important to retain knowledge of both her aspirations and emotional needs before sinking one's size 10s into the less important quicksand of honesty, the like of which will not be forgotten anytime soon. So what does this have to do with the Wednesday morning hijinks of Sea Swim Fitness? Well, stay tuned and I shall return to this most thorny of topics later on.

The first thing I noticed was that the changing room has returned back to the beach. The second thing being that, once again, the stones had mostly frozen solid underfoot as a result of a particularly heavy frost during the night. I had contemplated shedding the wetsuit today, as I had promised to do, but thought better of it once emerging from beneath the comparative safety of my duvet. I just had to hope that nobody remembered my earlier boast ... Meanwhile, Ollie appeared not to have his wetsuit on and, as Joan doesn't own one, it was no small sense of relief when I realised Sara was wearing hers. At least I am not the odd one out! Conditions: steely blue skies, chilly air temperature, no sun and a reasonably calm looking sea on its way back out since 4:30am. Without further smalltalk I was first in, immediately getting cold water down the back of my wetsuit, which kinda took the edge off from the day at the first attempt. The rest of the gang followed me in not far behind. I am really feeling the cold this morning, although it is slightly warmer(!) than it was in early December. For this reason, I am silently very impressed with Ollie who has followed Joan's example by going extreme hardcore. Sara sets the early pace, heading off to the groyne on the east side. Ollie does likewise whilst I am left to contemplate putting my face into the freezing murk. Actually there is more of a swell and a current than we first realise, even though conditions appear quite calm, so I decide to just float and stare at the heavens for a bit whilst trying to catch my breath. I soon catch Ollie, (either that or he has just stopped) and he points out an albatross perched on the sea wall, looking at us with beady eyes as though we have all been doing some serious drinking. Well, either we have, or we ought to have done. And so we continue swimming, vaguely attempting a couple of widths with varying degrees of success. Ollie and Joan are first out of the water, having completed a paltry four minutes each. Pah! Sara and myself, the hardier of the group, are left to speculate as to exactly what colour Ollie has turned because, from where we are swimming, it looks like fuschia. Eventually Sara and I also get out of the water and join the other two. Joan has thoughtfully brought some breakfast along for everyone, but I tend to lose my appetite when very cold so decide to let Ollie have my share whose voice (in the cold) had become noticeably quicker and several octaves higher, reminiscent of the spin cycle of a washing machine. The sun begins to rise and Sara - to my absolute horror - breaks ranks, takes off her wetsuit and heads back into the sea! What??? That means I am the wuss of the group, of equal standing to the membership of the Duvet chapter. This is feeling distinctly like cowardice so quickly I make my excuses about having to get to work etc. This embarrassment is compounded when Ollie, as a direct challenge to Joan (who he has arguably equalled in the cold-water stakes), states unashamedly that he is thinking about "raising the bar even further". Gulp! But Joan was having none of it, telling Ollie to "bring it on" and that she had "seen it all before and wasn't impressed". The red sun is creeping above the horizon quite quickly now, so I dash to the water's edge (the tide having decided it is coming back in again - about 2 hours before time) to take some photographs of Sara against this morning Turner sky. The scene looks almost tropical, take a look at the photographs below and judge for yourself. Once re-grouped, we discuss potential swim events for the coming year. A Channel relay is possible, a swim around the piers is another and also across the Solent to the Isle of Wight. Just ideas at this stage, but worth keeping on the agenda in case there is interest. We finish dressing (or most do), and trudge gamely back to our cars. This is where my problems really start ...

Having thought I had gotten away with it, Ollie reminds me that I had promised to shed the wetsuit this week. Sara chips in that I am surrounded by "two old ladies that have done it today", so am really out of excuses. At this point I nod sagely and agree. Wrong! I wasn't supposed to agree at all, not with the word "old" anyway. Apparently the question is a mantrap of each stature to "does my bum look big in this?". These types of question only have one answer (and privately, this explains to me a great deal). I am left to retreat to my car before driving shamefully away. Hopefully my brain will have thawed out by Friday.

"Now do I put my shoulders under?"