Getting bent into shape

This evening I went for another appointment at the physio. That was 45 minutes of somebody palpating the muscles in my neck, which is another way of saying I lay there in abject agony while I got stretched and adjusted, and then I walked home, groggy and dazed, my head slightly more mobile and my neck more sore than when we started. Continue reading “Getting bent into shape”

Throwing Around

I almost threw La Serpiente out of her bed this evening. I was tired, I put her into her bed and read her three chapters of Despereaux, then she told me to lie on the floor, then she told me to lie next to her, then I fell asleep and then I woke up with one of those sudden all body jerks where you convulse and almost chuck your sleeping child on the floor.

Thankfully La Serpiente survived unscathed and unthrown, and I sneaked out of her room and went out for my evening run, a gentle 5k after taking off yesterday to recover from Saturday’s brutalisation.

Today was a bit of a grind, partly because after spending Sunday in the office you don’t feel so excited about being back in the office on Monday. I achieved about half of what I wanted to (a recurring theme at the moment) and then went home, pretty exhausted – but I expected that, after the weekend and after La Serpiente keeping me awake last night by punching me in the eye. I don’t know, maybe she was predicting this evening’s entertainment and wanted to get her jabs in first.

And so to bed…

Hard start

I got up at 5 this morning for a run, a bad idea as I’d been up late the last few nights, and was still pretty sleep deprived. I haven’t really run all week so theoretically I should have been fresh and ready for a 26 km run, but the truth is I was neither.

I staggered along for ten or eleven k, forced to carry on by running with somebody, but after an hour it was clear I was in no shape. I got on the next rental bicycle I could find and pedalled slowly all the way to East Coast with my friend. Then I forced myself through another instalment of Parkrun, and it’s a sign of how slow I was that a 25 minute 5k was a victory of the will today rather than just my slowest run of the year.

Six weeks to go until the next marathon. I’m sure it will be fine.

This morning we had a birthday party to go to at a children’s playgym, Waka Waka, where there’s an indoor bouncy castle, an enormous soft play maze on several levels, and an enormous toucan head that Destroyer loved to climb in and peer out of. So that was nice. It certainly wore out the kids and by 2pm La Serpiente and I had fallen asleep in her bed. The only flaw was at 3 I had to get up and trudge up to Bishan Stadium to get a race number. Really, really wanted more sleep…

We had a second birthday party in the evening. At one point all the kids rushed the stage for an impromptu performance of "Let It Go" from Frozen. They did not excel. But perhaps my standards are too high.

And so, home to bed to massage my legs and wonder if I should be putting in another run tonight or not…

Slow start to the week

The girls both came into our room by five this morning, so I went and slept on Destroyer’s bed. Somehow, even though we moved super sluggishly, I was out the door with La Serpiente by 8, which gave us ample time to take the bus to Tiong Bahru, feed her an entire pain au chocolat, and then amble to school. I even managed to find a hire bike and get myself on a train into the office, arriving promptly at just after nine. The day was going like clockwork.
Continue reading “Slow start to the week”

Scale down

Yesterday afternoon while the girls napped I sneaked away to a new climbing wall in the basement of a shopping mall, and had a pleasant half hour falling off things onto a crash mat. Then in the evening I drank the remainder of our Australian gin trove, and woke up this morning with a sore head. Continue reading “Scale down”

A Night At The Races

This evening we went to watch the horse racing. The races are at the Singapore Turf Club, far north near Krangj. Unfortunately our taxi driver, breaching at least one stereotype, didn’t know where the Turf Club was and drove us erratically through rush hour traffic, lurching with every lead-footed stomp on accelerator or brake, for an hour, until we arrived tired and nauseous at the Turf Club. Hardly the most glamorous of starts.

Betting on horses makes everything more fun: do you choose based on prior form? On the horse with the silliest name? (Our pick of the night, Sir Reginald, placed, though we’d bet on him to win, a consistent mistake throughout the evening.) Or do you just choose completely at random?

Whatever and however you decide, you have to bet in cash. And there’s no cash machine onsite, a canny move by the Singaporean authorities, no doubt, to ensure nobody empties their bank account and maxes out their credit cards trying to win a fortune on Mr Ed in the final race.

That did mean that we went through all our cash (well, all my wife’s cash) in four races, not winning anything to offset our losses. Then all that remained was to eat copious dessert (sesame strudel, a dark and strange combination, beloved by my wife but revolting to me, alongside profiteroles, eclairs, sundry other cakes…) and then mosey down to the trackside to watch the final race thunder over the finish line.

After that, we took a car home to bed. I’d drunk as much beer as I could (carbohydrate loading for tomorrow’s run) so I felt a little dyspeptic, glad to be back from the wastelands of the far north, ready to sleep.