The only time a man ‘moons’ without trying to be funny!
It has been four days of deep soul-searching, a humbling exercise precipitated by an extremely disappointing marathon performance last Sunday.
The extent of the soul-searching has been such that, at times, I even began to question whether I’m physically and/or mentally cut out for this human torture that is called the marathon.
The only consolation from the race is that I crossed the finsh line … barely. While the official time of 4 hours and 33 minutes was some 44 minutes outside my Personal Best, at least it was an improvement on my last shameful DNF effort over the distance.
Nevertheless, I feel like such a failure.
My iPod Nano died recently.
It passed away peacefully in its sleep – one from which it could not be awaken, despite much frantic efforts to resuscitate through charging, syncing and cajoling.
Yippee, I’m in!
Hi everyone. I’m the wife of The Jogging Dad.
He just abruptly left to go for a run. He does this quite often, whenever incessant questions start driving him up the wall. Questions like: “Daddy, what can we do? We’re bored!“, “Daddy, if God created earth, who created God?” and “Daddy, C just spilled milk again all over the floor! Can you please go and clean it up?” And those are just questions from me. You should hear the ones from our two little boys. Continue reading
“Come over here, KJ, I wanna talk to you“, said Vincenzo, motioning me foward with his crooked index finger.
At the time, I was just shooting breeze and breaking Chris’ balls about his new hairstyle. Or the lack thereof, as he had just suffered a number-two lawn-mower job at a barber’s in downtown Little Italy.
“Look, we’ve got a situation over here“, Vincenzo said as soon as I sat across from him at the table.
“Wait, you wanna drink? Why don’t you have a drink first?“
I refused. Continue reading
Running does a lot for me.
It provides me with an avenue to think and to contemplate.
It allows my imagination to run amok, and ensures my chain of thoughts don’t get stuck.
Not only that, but most of the nonsense on this blog are conceived as I’m pounding one foot in front of the other, whether along the picturesque waterfront of Sydney Harbour or around the serene parklands of suburbia. Continue reading