The pull-up bar at Freshie was still wet from the morning dew. I jumped up, knocked out the first set, dropped down. Fine. Second set, same thing. By the third round — after the run from Queenscliff, the burpees on the sand, the jog back up — I felt it. My tee pulling just slightly on the way up. Not much. Just enough.
That's when weight stops being a number on a spec sheet and starts being something you carry through every rep.
I've been running these Tuesday circuits for years now. Same route, same stations, same humid 6am starts where the Northern Beaches air sits heavy and the concrete's still holding yesterday's heat. What's changed is what I wear. Not because I'm chasing grams like some ultralight obsessive, but because I've felt the difference when gear gets it wrong.
A heavy tee doesn't announce itself in the first kilometre. It waits. It soaks up sweat during the run, clings during the burpees, shifts when you're trying to stay tight on the bar. By round three, you're not just fighting the workout — you're fighting fabric that won't keep up.
Modern performance gear has figured this out. The fabrics shake off moisture instead of holding it. Seams stay flat instead of bunching. Caps sit so light you forget they're on your head. It's not about being precious with weight — it's about building gear that moves when you do and disappears when you need it to.
We've been testing this across everything we make. Tees that stay put through burpees. Shorts that don't sag after a fast 5k. Caps designed for Curl Curl summer mornings when anything heavy becomes a liability. If it works through a full conditioning session out here, it's ready.
You don't notice good gear. That's the point. It's only when something's too heavy, too stiff, too slow to dry that you feel it — and by then, you're already compromised.
Weight isn't the only thing that matters in performance apparel. But when you're three rounds deep and the session's not slowing down, every gram you're not carrying counts.