I read an article recently analyzing the anxiety most women have about wearing a bathing suit in public. It seems that for the vast majority of women, specifically 87% of those interviewed for the article, the biggest source of fear is . . . other women.

This statistic should come as no surprise. With respect to most every decision that affects women, be it child birth issues, parenting, career choices or what clothing and accessories they adorn their bodies with, it’s women themselves who are the harshest critics.

As to the bathing suit matter, I myself am guilty of scrutinizing my fellow females and passing judgment. This is not something I’m proud of, but in the interest of full disclosure, I’ll admit it to be true. I spend an inordinate amount of time at the beach and the pool analyzing what other women are wearing and critiquing their selections.

Oh, don’t be so shocked. I’ve talked to my friends about it and they all do it too. In fact, I’d even venture to guess that you are all similarly at fault. 87% of us wouldn’t be so worried about what other women are going to think if we ourselves weren’t doing some of the judging. They say women dress to impress other women. Perhaps. My take is that women dress to look at least as good as, or better than, other women.

Because the truth is, as much as I may critique other women’s bodies and wardrobe choices, I judge myself the hardest. Why is it that when women look at their reflection they don’t see their best features but a magnification of their flaws?

In any event, my own dissatisfaction with my body is the primary reason I began exercising regularly several years ago. It wasn’t a concern for my general health and fitness that was the impetus, it was the desire to continue to wear a two-piece bathing suit into my 40’s. Again, I’m not particularly proud of this, but it is what it is.

But this absurd vanity has led me on a journey I would not otherwise have taken, and it has been a good one so far. I have met people I would not otherwise have met, participated in events I would not have given a second thought to just a few years ago and reached far beyond my comfort zone to discover a whole new subculture of triathletes.

This past Sunday I had the good fortune to participate in my second triathlon, this one a very different race than my first. This super sprint distance triathlon was part of the Ramblin’ Rose series of women-only events. The purpose of the Ramblin’ Rose series is to celebrate the empowerment of women and benefit charities that are focused on enabling women and girls.

At the Raleigh Triathlon there were approximately 850 female participants. Ages ranged from 10 to 69. Race officials estimated that for every race participant there were on average 5 to 6 supporters. In short, I was one of a whole lot of people!

My first triathlon was serious and competitive. Also a little intimidating. Pretty much everyone there looked like they had walked straight out of the pages of some athletic magazine. Not so at the Ramblin’ Rose event. Sure there were some serious athletes. But there were also a good number of pretty average-looking women — women for whom athletics might be an infrequent indulgence rather than a way of life. There were even some women who didn’t look like they could handle a sprint from the parking lot to the starting point, much less make it through a swimming, biking and running course.

It was a true cross-section of society – women of all colors, ages, shapes and sizes. Women at the top of their game, and women who, quite honestly, really need to rethink their decision to wear spandex and forego the extra support sports bra. There were many women there who had never before participated in such a strenuous exercise. But for one reason or another, each of these women chose to rise above whatever physical or emotional hurdles were in her path, give up her Sunday morning and put herself through the challenge of a triathlon.

With that many race participants, the event was a little nerve-wracking. Lots of bodies moving in close proximity are not always a good, or a safe, thing. But the beauty of this event was the atmosphere. It was one of camaraderie. It was celebratory. Women (and men) helping each other out, encouraging each other, cheering each other on. From those athletic few who came in first to the last huffing and puffing stragglers trudging to the end, every single effort was hailed a success.

After crossing the finish line, I watched hundreds of happy racers and their ecstatic family members and friends, smiling, hugging each other, marveling and rejoicing in their amazing accomplishment. And it didn’t matter to anyone about clothing choices or body shapes. It didn’t even matter that some really shouldn’t have been wearing spandex and definitely should have gone for the extra support sports bra.

These women of all colors and ages and shapes and sizes were all winners and they were all beautiful.