Chopsticks, a whole lot of yelling, and bed rest

La Serpiente greeted me at the door this evening, brandishing a pair of chopsticks that she’s learning to use. She had both a swimming lesson and a music lesson today, so by 6:30 she was brutally tired and manic, alternating bouts of weepiness with demands that we sat with her and read her a book about guinea pigs. Then she cried a bit, and sat at her table singing Japanese songs. As I remarked to my wife, her Japanese singing might seem impressive for an almost-four year old, but it looked like she was reading the words. (Disengage sarcasm now…) Continue reading “Chopsticks, a whole lot of yelling, and bed rest”

Nothing Day

Today I felt exhausted, and I suspect this was something to do with drinking coffee yesterday. I’m on medication that requires me to accompany it with an acidic drink (coffee, or orange juice, or Coke) which goes against the diet I’ve been trying to follow, and seems to have thrown off my sleep quality as a result. Which means I wake up in the mornings groggy and confused, and feel I need another coffee to get me going. So I tried not having one today, and lo and behold … I didn’t feel great. Continue reading “Nothing Day”

Glutton for punishment

I went to the track for the Wednesday night session; I don’t think I’d been once during my marathon training, which means it’s the first time I’ve been this year. And as my wife is starting an exercise class on Wednesday evenings from next week, it could also be the last time I’ll go this year. There’s always Monday nights…

I wasn’t feeling too bad after the marathon. Or rather, I think i have more problems with my head than my legs. I hadn’t really noticed until somebody pointed out I’ve been very quiet today, rather than my usual garrulous self. I hope people will tell me when I’m getting stupider as well as when I’m getting gloomier. 

Anyway, I knew going to the track could have been a big mistake, so I had no illusions about being able to sustain a stupendous pace for half an hour, and the 30 minute tests I’ve done over the last few months have taught me that even 1:40s are over ambitious, so I was content to be trying to run consistent 1:44 laps tonight. Ostensibly we were doing 1:46s, but that’s not divisible by 4, so what kind of madman would attempt that?

There were three of us running together; tonight’s session was 4 lots of 7 minutes and 30 seconds, with a 90 second recovery in between. This was a lot less horrible than the usual 6×5 minutes with a one minute break: that extra 30 seconds really helped me to recover. 

That said, the final 7 and a half minutes were a strange kind of hell. Going into it I figured I’d drop out in shame after a lap or two, so managing to grind out 4 and a quarter laps at basically the same pace I started with was some sort of victory. 

Afterwards, exhausted, I took the train home. I didn’t quite have the glow of adrenaline I get from running fast laps at the track, but at least I’d got out and run. There’s only 6 weeks until an 800m race – I guess I need to speed up. 

And back again

I think it’s the travel that does it. I felt mildly rotten the whole time I was in Bangkok and that didn’t abate after I’d flown home. I went to the office for meetings and then the wife and kids came to pick me up, and i struggled home with them. After two days without me, La Serpiente was totally bonkers, which was fun for a couple of hours but eventually collapsed into screeching. 

By the time she was asleep, I had another migraine, this time bad enough for me to feel like I’m going to vomit at any minute. I think that indicates that these trips are occuring too frequently for the good of my health. 

Still, I’m home now, and i can look forward to a bit of uninterrupted sleep. Just need to stay strong now until the marathon. One more Bangkok trip to go…

Home again, again

After 17 hours, I made it back to Singapore. My feet and calves are swollen to a revolting degree and my eyes are ready to drop out of my head. I watched the disappointing second half of The Accountant, the disappointing first half of The Mechanic: Resurrection, which has so scarce a plot I began to think I’d had a brain incident, and then I swapped between Futurama and Imperium, where Daniel Radcliffe becomes a skinheaded white supremacist.

Departing San Francisco at 9 means the destination time is 1am the next day, so I tried to get a long nap to begin with and then try to cope. I managed about four or five hours then spent the rest of the journey hurting in various ways.

On the positive side, I’m not now wide awake at midnight local time. Downside is that I’m basically half blind and exhausted. And so to bed…