As promised, here’s the much-anticipated (and highly dreaded) “swimsuit edition.”

I met Barbara, my training partner, at Cedar Lake this morning. I was pretty apprehensive because I haven’t swum since 1972 (only a slight exaggeration), and I wasn’t sure about taking my first dip in an unguarded lake.

My fears were unfounded. I actually felt great in the water. I tried out all my race-day strokes: Freestyle, check. Back stroke, check. Doggie paddle? Oh my, yes. Then I just floated for a while. It was sublime.

I wanted to spend the entire day in that lake, but eventually I had to face the inevitable: Getting out of the lake and onto my bike.

As far as I’m concerned, this is the moment that separates the true triathletes from the weekend warriors. (In case there’s any doubt, I’m definitely a weekend warrior.)

For five miles, I was horrified by the squishing sound that was coming from my bike shorts. (Note to self: Don’t swim in bike shorts.) Good thing we called it quits after our ride. I may have died of embarrassment, had a run been required.

All told, though, I had a wonderful morning. I can’t wait to get back in that water again.