My Black Junks

I estimate that Fairfax County Rec. Centers are the source of 82.883% of my personal anecdotes which I guess is understandable because I am there for 2 hours every other day.

Anyway, a few weeks ago, I posted about the lack of updatage of my wardrobe. This also carries over to my swim gear, which was purchased sometime around 1997. In my heyday (read "High School"), I usually blew through 1.5 suits per swim season. When I went to college (read "Was a lazy asshole"), there really was no motivation to get new stuff because the old stuff just hadn't gotten any mileage. So naturally, when I restarted my swimming gear in April, I just used the old stuff. But now, things are really starting to show.

A little fact: Chlorine bleaches the shit out of everything.

Evidence: My Lap Suit.

The original color here folks, is yes, the same black as the SPEEDO tag and the black stiching. This color is a little enhanced because when photographed, it was about 5% damp. When I first put it on before a swim, I essentially look like naked white guy with fleshy bags hanging from my waist.

Today, I set out to hit the 2 miles in an hour mark (200yd free warm up, 18x 100 any stroke, 2x 200 free pull, 2x free kick, 6x 100 any stroke sprint, 200 free cool down). Because of the kick part of my work out, I really have to step it up a notch in my sprints to make the hour. Today I was off by about a minute (which rocks), but the sprints were insane. As I stood there in my lane, proud of my new time, huffin and puffin, I spy this girl in the upper deck looking at me with a big smile. "Alright, I've got fans now!" My body relaxes a little bit, and my neck drops to rest, and as it does, something isn't quite right with what I am looking at.

Another little fact: Prolonged exposure to chlorine deteriorates materials; especially the tensile strength of stitches.

The front of my lap suit had ripped in half, exposing the completely unbleachable black nylon suit liner.

I am Jack's semi-exposed package.
The absolute hilarity of the situatuation washed over me, and busted out in laughter as did my new 16yr old fan. My nylon-contained-fruit-basket was sticking out of the rip as a lone volcanic island sticks out of the sea. Thankfully, the Old Lady Aqua-Aerobics class let out a half hour prior so there was no threat of an Old Lady Orgy Class starting if I got out of the pool.