4 April, 2016 23:13


Tonight we got the kids down earlier, starting their baths at seven, and, less some squawking complaints from La Serpiente when I wouldn’t acquiesce with her demands to stay next to her bed for an hour, they both went to sleep pretty quickly. That gave us time to watch an entire MotoGP race before, inspired by two-wheeled antics, I went out for a ride on my bike.

Riding around at ten at night is strange. I love being alone in the darkness, out on the far side of the Marina Bay, looking back at the gleaming skyscrapers, away from distractions. But to get there I have to ride past the Marina Bay Sands, through troupes of idiots on fixed-gear bikes, and past parents taking their kids for ill-advised late night strolls. Don’t they know they should be in bed?

I get an email every week from one of the sites that tracks my running, and this one has (usually) encouraging messages, but this week it reminded me that by not running for 12 days my cardiac output has declined by at least 7%. Well, thanks for that.

Such dread tidings were probably what made me ride for almost an hour tonight. I’m now feeling a bit knackered, but then I’ve eaten at least three hot cross buns today (one chocolate and toffee, one orange and lemon, and one ginger – damn Marks and Spencer’s variety mounds of baked goods) so I needed to burn some energy off.

This is the first test of the Fitbit for exercise tracking. I don’t care that much about its ability to track working heart rate (I bought it primarily for sleep tracking and rearing heart rate) but it’s strange that it just loses my pulse from time to time. Or perhaps I died recently and didn’t notice. It is meant to automatically recognise what kind of exercise you’re doing, but apparently my riding a bike for most of an hour included 2,000 steps, so I don’t think they’ve figured it out perfectly.

Then again, as yet the Fitbit hasn’t broken or given me a nasty rash, so I guess we’re doing better than could be expected.


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