“Hey, have you heard of this guy who calls himself the Jogging Dad“?
“Yeah, I didn’t know him from a bar of soap either, until I literally ran into him while I was on my morning running today“.
Could’ve been like this!
“Wait a sec, if you don’t know him, how did you run into him“?
“No, hear me out. So I was running, minding my own business, turned a sharp corner and BAM! I almost ran straight into this middle-aged guy who was coming around the other way. I don’t know what he was on but, boy, he looked mighty chirpy for someone who was panting so hard.
Anyway, he apologised, I apologised and then I noticed he was wearing a running singlet with “joggingdad.com” in small letters printed across the back. When I got to work later that morning, I naturally checked out the website and found that he blogs about running, parenting and a bunch of other horseshit“. Continue reading
“So, we meet again Mr Jogging Dad. How are we this time around?” He said in an annoyingly nonchalant tone.
“Fuck off, I’m in no mood for this shit right now” I replied.
Crushed by Him, again
“I must say, you’re looking rather well, certainly better than the last time I saw you at this point. Still, looks can be deceiving. Let me just wonder insider your mind to see how you really are, shall I?“
Before I could abuse Him again, everything went silent except my own heavy breathing which, by this time, was gradually drowning out the music coming through the earphones.
Then He was back but, this time, with a much more malicious edge to His voice. Continue reading
Last Thursday, Roger Ebert passed away in Chicago. For those who don’t know him, you may find this post to be as boring as bat-shit, perhaps even more so than my usual ramblings.
What’s the matter with you?!
I have been following Mr Ebert’s film reviews since I was in my late teens, a time when I lived and breathed movies, so much so that I was even foolish enough to have dreamt of becoming a movie director one day. Fast forward 20 years, I now live and breathe being a family man, so much so that I no longer dream of becoming anything. However, the love for films has remained to this day and so has my habit of reading Mr Ebert’s film reviews. Continue reading
Running, parenting – all for love
I have a marathon next month in Canberra, the capital city of Australia with a population of about one-tenth of Sydney – perfect for holding a 42.2km race without the need to disturb any traffic or anyone.
In preparation for this event (my second attempt at the distance), I decided to go for a long 24km run this afternoon. Not nearly enough but neither is the availability of time, what with my weekend bathing duties with the kids and the witching hour that is dinner.
At the risk of sounding self-congratulatory, it is amazing how far I have come though. If someone had told me in 2006 when I picked up running again, that I would reach a stage where 24km of non-stop pounding of the pavement and the heart will become as nonchalant a task as cleaning the car, I would have laughed at his face. I still remember the enormous struggle I had just to run 4km in those early days, and suffering the next morning as if I had done 40.
“I firmly believe that any man’s finest hour, the greatest fulfilment of all that he holds dear, is that moment when he has worked his heart out in a good cause and lies exhausted on the field of battle – victorious“. Vince Lombardi.
Vince, I now know what you were talking about!
I have participated in many fun runs, ranging from 8km all the way up to 42.2. For me, the emphasis has always been on the “fun” part of the endeavour, as opposed to the time taken to complete the “run” part. The atmosphere, the camaraderie, the scenery, the opportunity to pace behind a foxy female runner with exquisitely toned legs and mesmerising pony-tail sway… how can one not but have fun in such a setting!
However, there is one thing that completely ruins the fun and makes me sulk like a sissy after a race. It is when, having passed the finish line, I know deep inside that I could have pushed myself harder, that I did not give my all. Continue reading