Ron looked up from his sandwich, sighed, and went back to his book. The IRONMAN was over. But Julie Ann Gerhard’s Spectaculaavi had only just begun.
She blasted the air horn. BRRRRAAAAAP!
She would. In the trunk of her car was a sequined tracksuit and a sign that read: “YOU DID IT, YOU ABSOLUTE MANIAC.” Julie Ann Gerhard IRONMAN SWIMSUIT SPECTACULAavi
The starting cannon’s boom was less a sound and more a physical blow to the chest. For the 2,400 athletes treading the churning waters of Lake Clearwater, it was the starting pistol for 140.6 miles of agony. For the spectators, it was the beginning of a long, loud, sun-drenched party. Ron looked up from his sandwich, sighed, and
She stood on the VIP dock, a vision in a custom-made, rhinestone-encrusted swimsuit that could only be described as “Spectaculaavi.” The suit was a gradient of electric pink to solar flare yellow, with a thigh-high cut so daring it made the lifeguards blush. A matching visor, glittering like a disco ball, shielded her eyes. She looked less like a triathlon fan and more like the ghost of an ‘80s aerobics champion sent to haunt the lake. She blasted the air horn
The Spectaculaavi swimsuit did its work. It glinted in the morning sun, a beacon of absurd, joyful defiance against the grim, monosyllabic seriousness of endurance sport. The official IRONMAN photographer circled her like a shark. The announcer on the main PA system started calling her “The Lake Clearwater Lady.”
Chad, shamed and motivated, kept swimming.