Day One Hundred: Eduardo’s Road To Fitness

“Free beer for life, room service meals made by Ferran Adrià of el Bulli, Hollywood style sexual gratification on demand served by Angelina Jolie and Adriana Lima. The offer sounded tempting but….

But. There was a ‘but’. Changing the cat litter is possibly the worst task in the world, so I had to decline the bribe. I would have to think of a better offer. It struck me that to consider such things whilst swimming a kilometre offshore was perhaps odd.

I have told people before that when I am exercising, be it free-diving or cycling up in the mountains, my mind usually wanders. Wanders? I think my mind does more than wander. It wanders in a way that Marco Polo, Ferdinand Magellan or Vasco de Gamma ‘wandered’.

I looked down as I swam and could see nothing but a deep purple below me. The ocean floor had long since dropped away to a depth of over two hundred metres. I spotted the delicate light emitting form of a siphonomore, hanging in ‘space’ below me, I moved slowly to one side to avoid being stung. It was a member of the Erenna genus, which typically does not have long tentacles. Better be safe than sorry I thought.

My mind was wandering again but the dull ache coming from my broken toe, that I had painfully squeezed into my fins was doing a good job of preventing Angelina Jolie from feeding me beef carpaccio in bed. Two days earlier I had been in a car crash. Whilst my perky blue Kia Rio had been sent to a car graveyard I had survived with nothing more than a broken toe and a fractured finger as a reminder.

I stopped swimming and looked at my crooked finger. The dark purple backdrop coupled with the strong Caribbean sunlight provided for high contrast viewing. My hand looked brown, the skin on my fingers was shrivelled, a result of a long time spent in the water. My finger was definitely crooked – I should probably make a splint for it when I get back, I thought.

I began swimming again and wondered how much further out I should go. Another fifteen minutes? Time had stopped a long while ago. How long had I been heading out to sea? Half an hour? I turned around and looked back at land. I could not see the beach, it had dipped below the horizon but I could make out the salmon coloured apartments on the top of the hill to the West and could see the de-salination plant to the East. I turned around. I was a long way out and my therapy session was over.

Exercise for me is therapeutic. Some people grow plants. Others make replica sail boats out of wood and place them in glass bottles. Me? I take myself away to another place, a place where I dine in bed with Angelina whilst gorging myself on Beef Carpaccio.

It beats changing the cat litter.