Apresdeluvian run


I went to MacRitchie Reservoir for a run today. It was an easy choice; the Formula One race means any running route near Marina Bay is needlessly complicated, running to Mount Faber would be horrendously boring, and although MacRitchie is hilly and humid, it’s also fun to be running down a rocky path where you’re not entirely in control.

I was too tired to run it this morning, and it would have been impossible at night as they lock a gate at one end, making it really difficult to do a proper loop, and it would be in the dark with a bunch of angry monkeys, and I’d never sneak out after bedtime anyway, so I left at 4.

Just as a huge rainstorm came in. The sort where it gets cold in Singapore, and where you can’t see much further than the windscreen of the car you’re in. So hurtling to MacRitchie was rather fun.

I arrived, the rain stopped, everything was lovely. Perhaps this was a sign that the general shittiness of the weekend to date had now abated.

The run itself was quite tough. I was keeping my pace slow as I can do MacRitchie in an hour, but then I’m ruined, so I did my first lap in just over an hour, then discovered that although it’s a reservoir, water is hard to come by, and either dehydration or tired legs made a mess of the second hour for me. I did have my Camelbak with me, but the water bladder had some suspiciously old water in it, so I’d left that at home.

I did have the My Dad Wrote A Porno podcast to listen to, which is a great solace while running, but maybe not good for overall performance. Still, it kept me going, fnar fnar.

Finishing, I got a taxi home, legs well and truly wrecked (the rough ground plays hell with everything below the knee), but I had been smart enough to pack a change of clothes with me, so I didn’t stink the vehicle up. I looked a state though: tight t-shirt and baggy shorts are something for a Spice Girl twenty years ago, not a middle-aged man today.

Then, as penance, I had to sit on Destroyer’s floor to get her to sleep, when getting up from the floor with knackered legs is a matter of hilarity and idiotic pain. And so to bed.


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