Missing out

Staying up late and drinking isn’t part of the training regimen of most successful runners. I was meant to do 26 km this morning with a friend, and we’d arranged to meet at 5:15 so we’d be done before breakfast. I hauled myself out of bed with 4 hours sleep in me, got dressed and went down for my run.

My friend never turned up.

After 15 minutes waiting, I set off on my own, figuring if I didn’t start, I’d never finish. I still didn’t finish.

I did 20 km less than intended, at glacial pace. When you’re aiming for 5:30 kilometres and you’re doing two minutes slower, something is very wrong. I tried to push myself to go faster; I got slightly slower. I planned to run four laps of the Marina rather than do a long out and back; I managed one lap, then packed it in, standing next to a building site that stank like raw sewage and seemed to be a breeding ground for flies.

Broken hearted, I slowly crept back home in the dark.

On the corner of Shenton Way, where a new shopping mall has opened and through the glass I could already see staff, at well before 7, setting up in the cafĂ©, my friend appeared from the gloom, jogging on at reasonable pace. There’d been a missed text: he’d rescheduled our start for 5:30 and so we’d just missed one another. He tried to get me to follow him, but he was doing 4:30 pace; I was broken alright, and doing any more would just break me more.

I walked home, passed out on the sofa, sweating into the cushions. At 8, my daughters came and played around me, but couldn’t wake me. At ten, I woke, inexplicably returned to my bed. The day was just begun, or already over. Who’s to say?

Inbound to Heathrow and then on

We’ve not had such an easy flight since before we had children. Maybe it was the extra boost conferred by having a wife in a wheelchair that made Changi easier, but when we got on the flight the kids didn’t go mental, we weren’t carrying so much stuff that there was no space to fit our feet under the seats (now both girls get their own seats, we have a higher ratio of cargo to space) and when the children sat down, they dutifully watched TV for a couple of hours then actually _asked_ to be allowed to stop and go to sleep. Continue reading “Inbound to Heathrow and then on”