What can a slack runner say in response to that?
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been a whole month since my last run.
Go on, my son.
For some reason, I have a real bad case of the guilt. Which is funny, because I have never promised to run for anyone, nor does my lack of running adversely impact anyone.
But I take it you run for yourself. Perhaps that explains the feeling of guilt, my son … that somehow you are letting yourself down. That’s perfectly understandable, especially given how much energy your have expended into this particular hobby in recent years. Continue reading
2 weeks ago, I ran a half marathon.
I finished in 98 minutes, more than 5 minutes off my Personal Best.
I had mixed emotions at the end of the race.
On the one hand, I was satisfied with the run, especially after the confidence-sapping efforts of my last race – a marathon in which I walked the last 6-7 km due to severe cramping. Continue reading
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.
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