OAP

"Sorry sir, but I need to ask. Are you an old age pensioner?" This is what the receptionist at the Lido asked me this morning. Not a good start really. Before you ask, no I am not an old age pensioner. (I guess I must have looked like one this morning though.)

I could imagine looking like an OAP after a freezing swim, with wheezy breath, bright orange and pimply skin, and hair that's frozen into a style that's part punk and part perm. But, first thing in the morning I hope I look young and fit. Maybe that's my next target, getting the receptionist to ask me if I'm a student (not a mature student, but a young and virile student, a young and virile student who looks ready to swim for Britain). Or maybe I should just be content with sneaking anonymously into the changing rooms (which is difficult when you're one of only two swimmers going into the pool).

9.7 degrees this morning. Positively baking compared to last week. In the playground this afternoon, someone suggested monitoring my heart rate before, during, and after a swim. What a great idea. I just need to dig out that old heart rate monitor ... OAP? Just wait. A heart rate to die for. (Maybe not.)