A little bit of evening culture

Today my legs were still sore from running MacRitchie at the weekend, so instead of going for a run after work I went home, and put my wallet down in the wrong place in the apartment, and then spent an hour looking for it, while my wife watched Sherlock on TV and I mumbled about how Kim Newman’s The Hound Of The D’Urbervilles’ was superior.
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Awake and struggling

Today I was on baby duty in the evening, as my wife was fairly exhausted by an action-packed day of baby wrangling. La Serpiente Aquatica Negra started yelling about half an hour after we put her down to bed, so I went in, picked her up and rocked her back to sleep, then went back to sitting on the sofa and wondering why my blasted database query was taking so long.

About an hour later, she woke up again and started yelling. This time, I went in just as there was a loud thump, which I assumed was her falling over in her cot and whacking her head on the frame. She howled some more. Almost inconsolable, the only way to get her down again was for me to lie on the bed with her on top of me, as in this position she stuck her head in the crook of my neck and immediately went to sleep. This was a bit inconvenient as I had other plans for this evening apart from having my daughter sleep on top of me. Perhaps that will be my epitaph.
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Early morning runs and the hypocrisy of taxi drivers

Instead of going to bed on time, I stayed up late watching rubbish on the internet, which meant when the alarm went at 6:30 I snoozed it, and struggled to be out of the door before 7:30. Still, I got a taxi easily enough and got to MacRitchie Reservoir super quick, and super cheaply: usually I seem to get charged 12 or 15 dollars, whereas this time it was only 8.

Today my plan was to take things steady: instead of overcooking it at the start and dying later on, I’d try to stick to five minute kilometres throughout. This can be a hard discipline to stick to at MacRitchie, with all those rolling hills that encourage you to go out too fast.
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Big Day Out

This morning I got up from the sofa at 6am and went down to East Coast Park to help out with the Parkrun. I had the glamourous duty of being the backmarker, running behind everyone else to make sure nobody got lost or left behind. As it turned out, I missed three ladies that had turned up late to the start, so I had to wait and then it took around 45 minutes to get all the way round the course: although that was terribly slow, it did leave me fairly fresh for the rest of the day.
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Oranges Are Not Good For You

I seem to have injured myself by eating an orange. I felt fine until about four-thirty this afternoon, when I ate the orange, after which I’ve been wracked with abdominal pain. Too low to be something in my stomach, it feels like I must have inadvertently stabbed myself while slicing the orange open, but in such an absent-minded way that I forgot I did so.
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