“Here are your boarding passes, sir. I have three seats together in Row 12 and just one seat by itself in Row 13. I hope that’s OK with you and your family.“
See that little section on the upper right side of the pool? Our kids made it their own!
My wife and I looked at each other.
We both knew what this meant.
It meant one of us was going to have the luxury of travelling on a four-hour flight in total peace and comfort in Row 13, while the other was going to endure the torture of trying to entertain two sons aged 5 and 7 in Row 12.
Being the gentleman that I am, yours truly of course offered to take the short straw. Little did I know, I was the unwitting victim of a master plan – one that was activated when my wife complained on the cab ride to the airport that she felt nauseous. How could I let her suffer the the ordeal of pacifying our two boys on an airplane after hearing that? Continue reading
Running is hard.
You know what he would say, don’t you?
Even for people who are enamoured with the exercise, there are bound to be periods of trials and tribulations.
The physical toll on the body can be punishing, from unbearable pain on the joints and muscles, to excruciating strain on the heart and lungs. At times, one can literally feel the jarring of the bones and the pounding of the organs – so much so that you wonder whether this thing called running is in fact good for health.
As the mileage increases, even that physical distress can become secondary to the anguish on the mental side. Continue reading
I get the feeling my sons already know this
My two sons are now 7 and 5. Despite frequently giving me ulcers with their antics, they are generally very well-behaved and good-natured boys.
Granted, the elder one’s moodiness can put a girl to shame, while the younger one’s mischievousness is impossible to tame. But those traits, among many others, are exactly what makes them so much fun to watch and interact with.
That is, of course, until they start interacting with each other!
Tip #1: Don’t run in the heat!
I had an enormously enjoyable two-week break with the family over the Christmas/New Year period. Enjoyable because, from morning to night, the main thing on my mind was what we should eat, where we should go to eat it and how much of it should we eat. Indeed, our daily itinerary revolved around these deliberations on eating.
Then there was the drinking, ranging from the soft kind that requires multiple pit stops en route to a recreational destination, to the alcoholic kind that pretty much rules out venturing to any destination.
Wrong bin! Not even recyclable!
Where did the time go?
It is a question that I often ask myself as the calendar flips over to a New Year. And it is a rather ironic question, given that I spend most of the 365 days of the preceding year trying to hurry time along.
As a father, I sometimes foolishly wish time could fly. Fly so that my two boys would reach an age that requires less of my time, and frees up more of it to pursue a bucket list of interests.
As a runner, I continually wish time could accelerate. Accelerate during the interval between race A and race B, so that I can race and see the progress I’m making in this little hobby.
And, as a working man, I constantly wish time could expedite. Expedite in order for weekends to come around faster, seasons to go pass quicker and holidays to arrive earlier.