Early morning runs and late nights


This morning I went for a run. I haven’t had any exercise (apart from lifting my child) for the last ten days, so I didn’t think I’d be doing too much.

I also haven’t been having much sleep, so choosing to start our run at 6am also wasn’t the happiest thing I’ve ever done. My wife looked at me like I was mad last night when I told her what time I was getting up.

Still, as La Serpiente Aquatica Negra woke up about 1am and cried until I picked her up, it wasn’t like I was sleeping much anyway. I dozed on her floor until about 3 or 4am, then got up and went to bed until 5:30, then had to get up, pull on compression socks and go out to the trails.

Today half of team Norfolk & Chance Singapore Shufflers made it out; that was me and Nathan, an Australian I’ve been running with once before. We have a 50 kilometre relay race in about four weeks to prepare for, so we ran up the Green Corridor to the Horticultural Park, then up a metal walkway to Mount Faber.

The Green Corridor was stiflingly hot; down in the ex-railway cutting it felt like none of the air was moving, and we were just running through humidity. The run up to Mount Faber was horrid as well, in a different way; slick metal walkways aren’t the most fun thing to run across, especially when your soles are already slippery from running through mud.

We went up and up and up, and finally were rewarded with running down Henderson Waves, a strange wooden bridge up between two hills, and then up another horrendous climb, before running down some miserable staircases (concrete, sloping downhill so you’re in perpetual terror that you’re about to slip and pitch yourself face first into a series of concrete angles that will batter your bones to pieces. After that, the run home alongside a main road is pretty pleasant, even the part where a passing car blew a piece of grit into my eye.

At least we were quick. Ot at least we didn’t stay out too long. We did about 12km in about 75 minutes; dire by my usual standards, but that would be when I was fit and fully rested. Which was probably a good few years ago.

I got home, entertained our child and then went out for brunch. We had brunch in a restaurant with no other customers (never a great sign) and I had a horrible, horrible coffee and an acceptable batch of pancakes. Then we passed out for a few hours.

For the first time in months, we made it to a Sunday swimming lesson (usually our daughter sleeps right through them all) and she impressed me by living up to her aquatic sobriquet. We had a nice evening together, pit her to bed … and then she was sick again. Now we’re a pair of paranoid parents, waiting for the next wave of vomit. Oh, happy Sundays…


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