Julie Ann Gerhard Ironman Swimsuit Spectaculaavi – Bonus Inside

When a man named “Chad” tried to quit at the turnaround buoy, she simply removed her rhinestone visor, held it to her heart, and said into the bullhorn, “Chad. Your mother didn’t raise a quitter. She raised a man who paid nine hundred dollars to be here. Now finish the swim so you can suffer on the bike like everyone else.”

By the time the last swimmer—a tearful, exhausted grandmother named Helen—dragged herself onto the boat ramp, Julie Ann was out of air-horn fuel, her voice was a hoarse whisper, and her rhinestones were starting to come loose, leaving a trail of glitter on the dock like breadcrumbs.

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

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.

Next came a pair of sisters from Minnesota, both wearing matching pink caps. They were laughing, which in the grim world of the IRONMAN swim start was akin to a miracle. When a man named “Chad” tried to quit

“Alright, team,” Julie Ann announced to the five bewildered volunteers she had commandeered. “The first wave is out. We have exactly fourteen minutes before the age-groupers hit the first buoy. I need the ‘GO JULIE’ sign at twelve o’clock high, and the air horn primed for the crying guy in the neon-green cap. He looked like he needed encouragement.”

Her target was not the pros. They were too fast, too focused, too… wet. Her target was the back of the pack. The ones who had trained for a year but were already swallowing water. The ones whose goggles had fogged. The one who had forgotten to apply anti-chafe balm in a very specific and regrettable location. Now finish the swim so you can suffer

Helen looked up at Julie Ann, shivering. “Was I last?”