As a sincere mark of respect to all his running soul mates in Boston, there will be no blog posting by The Jogging Dad this weekend. What I had in mind to write about just seems even more trivial than usual, in the context of what just happened.
Rest in Peace to those killed in the incident, and best wishes to those injured.
Even more important than ever, keep on pounding.
I just returned from a week-long family holiday in Bali, Indonesia. The number of highlights from
Lost track of time running on Bali sand
the trip easily matched the number of mosquito bites that I sustained (that is to say, abundant). One of the highlights that you won’t read in any Lonely Planet guides is the beach run that I did on the very first morning on the island, from north (Seminyak) to south (Kuta) and back.
It started out unremarkably, perhaps even stressfully, as I had to negotiate the busy main street leading up to the beach, side-stepping pot-holes and dodging motor-bikes while trying to get used to the stifling heat (even at 6.30am).
Then I hit the beach and everything changed. Continue reading
Hi everyone, my name is L. I am The Jogging Dad’s 6 year-old elder son. He left this thing called WordPress/Joggingdad.com logged on (he’s becoming a little forgetful at his age) because he’s attending to my little 4 year-old brother who is chucking a hissy fit. My brother always chucks a hissy fit when jigsaw puzzles don’t look like a Picasso, if you know what I mean!
That’s not me but that’s exactly what I’m doing on daddy’s blog!
Anyhow, I thought I take this opportunity, while he’s not looking, to write some gibberish on this blog thing that my daddy spends an unhealthy amount of time on.
I rarely hear him talk about his work except that he stares at these numbers on computer screens everyday. He tells me that when these numbers go up, he sells some things, when they are go down, he buys some things. I usually roll my eyes and switch off at that point, and I think he does too. I also rarely hear him talk about his hobbies except that he runs around the park every now and then, comes home all sweaty without a shirt on, and then stares into the distance while sitting in the backyard guzzling down a Coke. However, I do see him quite often typing away on his laptop or scribbling away on his little notebook. I’m thinking that that has something to do with this blog thing that I’m currently mucking about with. Continue reading
Mention the words “a long run”, people either conjure up an image of messy struggles in the restroom after an exotic meal, or one of tortuous struggles out in the open, endlessly pounding the pavement. In either case, the reaction usually involves a moan followed by a groan. Even for an enthusiast like myself, heading out for a 90-120 minute jog requires a certain fortitude – the lack of which I compensate through my sheer love of the activity … and some artificial assistance.
Nothing like a Fat Boy Slim beat to make my Torpid Heart Pump!
MUSIC. This is the reason why I would never be welcomed into any hardcore running cliques. I enjoy listening to music while I’m on a long run. Not only does it drip feed the occasional boost to my pace with inspiring beats, but it also acts as a comforting companion while I mentally negotiate the long stretches of solitude.
I am, of course, aware of those purists extolling the benefits of running and learning to listen to your breathing at the same time. But I would rather not listen to my heavy breathing, especially when I’m on my own and engaged in something which does not lead to the kind of climax that usually follows such heavy breathing! Continue reading
My elder son L had his 6th birthday party back in September while my younger son C enjoyed his 4th last month. Children’s birthday parties are always fun to be involved in and fun to watch. Unlike adult gatherings, there is no pretension in kids’ actions, nor tension in their conversations. It is just unadulterated pleasure of going absolutely crazy over simple little things like lolly treasure hunt or bashing the proverbial out of pinata – and all without any alcoholic assistance!
This will take longer than a marathon.
There is, however, one thing I dread about my boys’ birthday parties. It is the gifts they get. Teddy bears and Ice Age DVDs I don’t mind. But whenever my boys tear open the wraps to unveil a 500-piece Optimus Prime Transformer lego set or a 200-piece science laboratory extravaganza, my heart skips a beat while my chin drops a bit. The boxes from which these toys materialise from may say they are suitable for kids aged 4 to 8. However, they are only suitable after parents aged 30 to 40 have spent countless hours on the toys analysing and assembling. Continue reading