I am not much into accessories when it comes to running.
“You ran without me”?!
A cap? I can do without it, particularly as it tends to trap my body heat trying to escape through my head.
A pair of sunglasses? Don’t need them, for they often slide down the bridge of my sweaty nose.
A Garmin watch? A fantastic gadget that often reminds me to kick up a gear, but is certainly not indispensable. Continue reading
Can’t run without it.
I have been sent a number of emails since this Blog began in October last year, asking me one question. Actually, I lie. I say “a number of emails” only to give the impression that I have a big following in the blogsphere. In fact, I have had just three emails in all that time asking me to explain or elaborate one aspect of my life. The question is actually quite mundane and merely reflects the curiosity that these three much-valued readers (a rather material percentage of my readership) has about this strange person called The Jogging Dad.
However, before I address this question (which will take just a couple of sentences), I just want to ramble a bit on another mundane aspect of my life – something that I sporadically talk about but in no way does justice to how much of an integral and personal part of my running life it is, namely, music. Continue reading
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
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