When I went to bed last night, I did worry that I might struggle to get to sleep. I didn’t have any inkling that I’d be wide awake until four in the morning. If I’d told anyone this today, they probably would have shrugged and remarked on how new children invariably lead to sleepless nights, but they would have been wrong. I hardly heard a squeak out of the baby all night, I just couldn’t switch myself off.
At some point, the misery of being awake at idiot o’clock was too much, and I comfort-ate an entire bag of tortilla chips, staining my mouth and fingers red. Every so often, I heard what was either two men, or a man and a dog, having a protracted argument in the street below.
Perhaps I hallucinated the sound of pile driving. Nobody does construction work at three. In the ayem, do they?
When the cuckoos started up at four, I knew there was no way I would be getting up at six for my run. Instead, I got out of my wholly unhelpful bed, dressed, and went out to put in some miles.
There was a light spattering of rain, hardly worthy of the word mist when I went out. At four on Monday morning, there aren’t many people on the streets. A couple, extravagantly embracing on a bridge. Three guys and an acoustic guitar sheltering in the tunnel leading into Esplanade Park. A gang of unlucky sods responsible for stringing up Christmas lights round Marina Bay, a couple of apparent holidaymakers and two men fishing under the bridge near the Formula One pits, and that was it.
I ran past them all, some of them deigning to acknowledge me, some ignoring me. At least on the way back, I got a head nod from one of the guys sat down in the tunnel. It’s the little things at 4:30am that keep you going.
I was intending to do five k at a a moderate pace, but after about ten minutes I went a bit mad from lack of sleep and started running at 10k speed, possibly amazed that I was still upright. When I got back there was still a little rain, but I was a billowing cloud of heat.
I stumbled back into the flat and went to bed, eschewing a shower for fear I’d wake the baby. I didn’t actually sleep until 5:30, giving me just about 90 minutes until I was awoken to be passed the baton in the baby-raising race.
Predictably, I wasn’t in top form today, almost incapable of speech, barely avoiding weeping at my desk. On the positive side, that’s 6k down already against this week’s target. Another 7 and a half sleepless nights and I’m sure to hit my goal.