Not drinking gin

After work I ran to the National Stadium, but somehow took a wrong turning and went out of my way by most of a mile, which wouldn’t be so odd if I hadn’t been running the same route so often for the last six months. When I got to the track, I had to run a 30 minute time trial: lap after lap of the track, after which I had the happy news that my threshold power is almost 10% higher than the last time I tried to estimate it. Which is possibly bad news, as it means I should up my intensity from now on.

I got the train home, feeling sweaty and exhausted, to find my wife and a friend of hers drinking gin. My dear, precious gin. The girls were both being loony and so as the only sober adult I ended up trying to get them both to sleep. Apart from histrionics (“I love you so much you can’t leave!”) from La Serpiente, which lasted until I’d prised myself off her bed and left the room, the bigger challenge was Destroyer, who wiggled and demanded milk and Chicka Chicka Boom Boom and to sit on me and to talk about breakfast until 10pm, while I was desperate to go and have a shower, or eat some cake, or just recover from my run.

Instead of which I got to be sweary when I finally got out of the girls’ rooms, and then I ate a bag of cheesy poofs because I’m so serious about getting down to my racing weight, and so on and so forth until I was in bed. Tomorrow, I’m sure I’ll be more rational.

Off track

I ran to the National Stadium track today to do a run at race pace. I’m only aiming for 3:30 for the Bagan Marathon, which equates to 2 minute laps at the track (except track pace is probably faster than real life pace, especially if Bagan is all sand) but given how out of training I am at the moment, I just wanted to see if I could knock out a reasonably consistent session.

It was a bit of a slog; not too much, mind, apart from people standing in the track and not looking where they were going, and sweating like mad, and feeling slightly sick, and running at 5 minute pace being ever so slightly boring, but after 30 minutes I kicked it up to a harder pace, and realised that doing 1:40 pace (something I’d usually see as dreadfully slow) was actually really quite hard work.

But I did it, and then headed home, just as everyone else was arriving for the main training session, which meant I did the suboptimal double of missing the social cameraderie of training in a group, but still left so late I was neglecting my parental duties at home. Tsk, tsk.

But to punish me, my Garmin decided it wasn’t going to communicate with my phone any more, for no particular reason, and so instead of the data I thrive on looking at, I spent a maddening hour trying to pair Bluetooth devices. Because that’s how I relax after a long day at work.

Karma, it turns out, is quite snide sometimes.

Still living in the present

Today was Youth Day so La Serpiente had no school. That meant I could desert my kids and scuttle off to work to eat scrambled eggs. My parental duties were not entirely neglected, as my wife brought both girls to the office later.

La Serpiente was very solicitous of my welfare. "Daddy, you must eat candy" she insisted, although I’ve given upbsuagr for the day so I had to turn her down, and then turn them out into the street to go to the library. There, Destroyer ran in circles while counting to 12, which I think is pretty good going for a 2-year old.
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Tastelessness

The antibiotics my wife and I are taking have stopped us tasting anything. Smoothies made with fresh fruit taste no better than wallpaper paste. Pasta is like cardboard in our mouths. The only advantage of this state of affairs is that it’s also borked my wife’s sense of smell, so she can leave a fully loaded nappy on a shelf in Destroyer’s bedroom and not notice the stench. Oh, hang on, was that an advantage? Continue reading “Tastelessness”

Old Man’s Sports Day – Singapore Masters Track And Field Championships 2017

Today was the day of the annual Singapore Athletics Masters Track & Field Championships. For the last two years I’ve completed, starting off with the 1500m and running a 4x400m relay against some dastardly competition, but last year and this year I’ve concentrated on the 800m.

The championships has usually been held in the autumn, but this year they shifted to May, for no particular reason, and then moved from the grandiosely named Home Of Athletics near the National Stadium, back to the stadium at Toa Payoh. (Maybe that’s because the track is already falling apart at the Home Of Athletics, but that’s another story.) Either way, it has the air of a school sports day, especially when they announce the winner of the long jump competition at 1.05m, or when the 3000m race walk minces away from the line for an interminable “race”.
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Track work

Tonight’s training schedule was 4 to 6x1000m, at 4:17 pace, with 4:15 recovery between each one. Or rather, that’s what I had from my Enormous Book Of Running Advice. When I got to the track, 59 hours after running a 19:35 5k, I was told taking it easy was not an option, and instead of being able to spend a nice evening sandbagging, I got promoted back to the A group, after plodding around in the B or B+ group for the last year or two.

Tonight, that meant running 6x1000m, but at no slower than 3:45 pace, on 5:45 repeats, which meant you’d get a 2 minute break (or more, if you could make yourself go faster.). So this was rather quicker than I had planned. I also had to wait an extra half hour for the fast session to start, which time I put to good use by doing up my shoes through an extra shoelace hole to make them more secure.
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