I got up this morning and went for a run. Because I knew I was light on willpower, I arranged to meet a friend part way round the route, to ensure I couldn’t wimp out. I didn’t have quite enough willpower to get up on time, so I was in a pointless rush to leave the flat. It was damp and almost chilly when I left (as chilly as Singapore ever gets) and so I made a good early pace, but there were obstacles ahead of me.
There was a ceremony down at the bay, and buses were disgorging half the population of Singapore to watch. I wasn’t sure if it was a dress rehearsal for National Day, or if everyone had just come out to get their free goody bags. I didn’t really want to be shoving past people, particularly in front of men in camp fatigues with guns, but I had to press on.
I made it to the National Stadium fifteen minutes late, and nobody was there. I hadn’t taken my phone with me, so I had no way to get in contact, and instead I kept on running, through the new building site where the Stadium car park used to be, and then trundled home, rueing my decision not to take my pass card with me and thus not being able to bail out early and take the train home.
At nine kilometers, I told myself I’d pack it in at ten. At ten kilometers, I told myself I could stretch it to eleven. At eleven, it was only two hundred metres to seven miles, and then it was only half a mile to twelve k, and then it was only half a mile to eight miles, and then I was back at the Army parade, and then I allowed myself to grind to a halt. I walked home, only discovering when I got home how I’d missed my friend by taking a slightly wrong route.
The rest of the morning was taken up with three breakfasts, before going back to bed. It feels like I’ve got this whole schedule thing all messed up. We struggle out again at three o’clock in search of ice cream, then had to battle back from the Botanic Gardens to clear the flat up for dinner, and of course after a placid day of sleep Felicity finally decided it was time to wake up and bawl for hour upon hour. We discovered that she likes Iron Sky, the only Finnish Nazis-on-the-Moon film that’s worth watching, and before passing out we did watch a pretty exciting motorcycle race from Germany, but this weekend rushed past us much too quick. Better luck next time…