I wake early with adventure on my mind. About 23km away, on the other side of Malaga, there is an outdoor Olympic sized swimming pool. Me being me, I decide to walk there along the coast past the suburban beaches towards the city. It's really pretty in Malaga, I never knew, lots of Spanish restaurants and bars, not an English menu in sight, just me in the midday sun. I start to doubt my own sanity, turn up my shirt collar to protect my neck from the scorching rays and determinedly walk on, every bit of shade is my friend.
About two miles from Malaga I take a well earned swim, it's in my contract.
At this point I could mention that I don't have a map. My point of reference is a cursory glance at Google maps a few weeks ago. The pool is on the Calle Marilyn Munroe, somewhere next to some water, I should be OK, I expect I'll just stumble in to it. I don't even know the name of the pool. Four and a half hours later and I'm still going, I'm on the boutique side of town. A sign says it's 38 degrees.
There's a massive yacht in the harbour, probably belongs to Mr. Abramovitch, I wonder if I sing a few Chelsea songs he'll give me a lift or sell me some shade to hang out in.
I find the Club Mediterranean, they've got a 50m pool, it's private, I stumble on.
A lovely senorita in tourist information tells me it's another 5km to my destination. I accept defeat and ask about the bus, it stops outside, it goes all the way. I have a renewed sense of purpose. I could have asked her for a map, nah, that's cheating.
By late afternoon I'm at the door of a massive sports centre. Oh the horror, there's a photo of an indoor pool in reception. I've walked the length of bloody Spain for a swim in an indoor pool. I bet Laurie Lee didn't have this much disappointment. I do a quick circuit of the building and to my relief I spot the outdoor pool.
Time to speak a bit of Spanish. Nine Euros for a swim? I hope I get breakfast and my own lane included in the price. I'm so hot and my legs and feet are sore. I find an indoor chill-out pool and jacuzzi where I spend an hour gazing at nothing in particular. I feel baked, boiled, bbq'd, basted, battered, blistered and bewildered and I really don't feel like swimming, especially outdoors.
Eventually, always eventually, I make my way poolside, the surrounding concrete is so hot I can't stand still. Nine big, beautiful beautiful lanes, one of which becomes free. Starting blocks, zero to eight, gotta dive, gotta be done, my goggles slide down my face as I hit the water, false start. I start again cautiously and slowly, it feels great to be in such a big pool, lane to myself, I feel happy again. Mile or a kilometre? Sod it, let's swim 2km today, I can do it, free and easy.
I take the bus home, doesn't take long.
About two miles from Malaga I take a well earned swim, it's in my contract.
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| The Fall and Rise of Poolside Percy |
There's a massive yacht in the harbour, probably belongs to Mr. Abramovitch, I wonder if I sing a few Chelsea songs he'll give me a lift or sell me some shade to hang out in.
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| Carefree wherever you may be |
I find the Club Mediterranean, they've got a 50m pool, it's private, I stumble on.
A lovely senorita in tourist information tells me it's another 5km to my destination. I accept defeat and ask about the bus, it stops outside, it goes all the way. I have a renewed sense of purpose. I could have asked her for a map, nah, that's cheating.
By late afternoon I'm at the door of a massive sports centre. Oh the horror, there's a photo of an indoor pool in reception. I've walked the length of bloody Spain for a swim in an indoor pool. I bet Laurie Lee didn't have this much disappointment. I do a quick circuit of the building and to my relief I spot the outdoor pool.
Time to speak a bit of Spanish. Nine Euros for a swim? I hope I get breakfast and my own lane included in the price. I'm so hot and my legs and feet are sore. I find an indoor chill-out pool and jacuzzi where I spend an hour gazing at nothing in particular. I feel baked, boiled, bbq'd, basted, battered, blistered and bewildered and I really don't feel like swimming, especially outdoors.
Eventually, always eventually, I make my way poolside, the surrounding concrete is so hot I can't stand still. Nine big, beautiful beautiful lanes, one of which becomes free. Starting blocks, zero to eight, gotta dive, gotta be done, my goggles slide down my face as I hit the water, false start. I start again cautiously and slowly, it feels great to be in such a big pool, lane to myself, I feel happy again. Mile or a kilometre? Sod it, let's swim 2km today, I can do it, free and easy.
 |
| Lane zero for heroes |