Growing up in landlocked Beijing, I never learnt how to swim until my mid-20s when I met my husband in Australia.
After learning the basics, there was a long period of time where I didn’t seem to make any progress with my swimming skills.
You see, I had a genetic condition called , which swelled my liver to 4-5 times the size of a normal liver, think of a pregnant lady with triplets, that was me!
I hardly ever swim between the flags.
I hate them, they’re always so narrow and full of people who get in my way.
While I’m being honest, I prefer not to swim at patrolled beaches either.
Are you a WAIF?
You know, a Weather App Icon Forecaster?
My partner is.
How do I know?
Because we don’t plan trips to Bondi Beach on 30 degree blue sky days when there’s a nice wave on, because “it’s going to be thunderstorming with huge surf”.
No one can deny I didn’t have my finger on the pulse last week when I wrote about the ‘great wetsuit debate’.
On Saturday the Bondi To Bronte swim organisers in Sydney were faced with an unseasonable ocean temp reported to be as low as 13.5 degrees (15 degrees on Sunday) and therefore made the sensible decision to move the event to Bondi on Sunday, reduce the course length, and promote the wearing of wetsuits.
Predictably, as soon as this decision was communicated, the ‘newds’ erupted in outrage on social media.
Do you only swim ‘newd’, or are you impartial to a bit of rubber?
This question is at the heart of the annual wetsuit debate between ocean swimming traditionalists and the modern day ocean swimmer.
Ocean swimmers tend to fit into two caps, I mean two camps.
Those who look good in a swim cap, and those who don’t – and I’m the captain of the later group.
I actually remember the one time I shaved my head back in high school and immediately regretted it. I just don’t have the head for the shaved look, and so it seems, for a swim cap either.
So why do we wear swim caps and are we wearing them for the right reasons?