Monthly Archives: February 2013

Rain Man in the house

Rain Man meets Mr Men

Rain Man meets Mr Men

A few days ago, I was shaving in front of the bathroom mirror while my two boys were in the background, mucking about. They like to muck about in the bathroom whenever my wife or I are in there, turning what used to be our only private refuge into a public arena.

Anyhow, this is the conversation I overheard:

My 6 year-old boy, L: Who’s number 7?

My 4 year-old boy, C: Mr Snow.

L: What about number 31?

C: Mr Tall.

L: Okay, if you think you’re so smart, who’s number 10?

C: Mr Silly.

L: No, YOU’RE Mr Silly! Haha!


C then proceeded to tackle his older brother and both of them fell to the ground, wrestling. Continue reading


Pre-race jitters and all that matters

The most popular place before a race

The most popular place before a race

Over the past 6 years or so, I must have slogged through a dozen half-marathon races, 6 heart-breaking trips from Sydney city to Bondi Beach (the famous City-2-Surf), a countless number of fun runs, and even a 42.2km legal torture that is called the marathon. I can honestly say, hand to my heart and Brooks runners to my thighs, that I enjoyed every one of those races. The atmosphere, the camaraderie and the official recorded time that provides a progress report on my running ability – these are all factors which entice me back to the starting line again and again.

But … there is one thing I have yet to master before every race. And that is the pre-race rigmarole which, to this day, I still struggle with. Continue reading

Daddy’s blog – hacked … again!

My daddy's not this bad!

My daddy’s not this bad!

Hi everyone, my name is C and I am Jogging Dad’s younger 4 year-old son. I just found out that my big 6 year-old brother, L, somehow hacked into daddy’s blog back in December last year and wrote up some gibberish.

NOT FAIR! How come L gets to write on your blog and not me?” was my immediate bottom-lipped whinge to daddy upon this discovery.

He tried to calmed me down by offering me a jelly-snake (a bribe which I gladly accepted), while denying ever letting L get anywhere near his blog (a lie which I brusquely rejected). After swallowing the jelly-snake, I pouted and complained some more about the injustice of it all, at which point daddy suddenly put on his pair of joggers and rushed out the door for a run. Continue reading

Body over mind

There is this exercise concept called “Listening to Your Body“.

In technical terms, I think it means one should go easy on exercising whenever he feels the body needs a little break. That way, no serious damage is inflicted physically and no angst is endured mentally. And, believe me, I’m in wholehearted agreement with this principle, what with foolish injuries sustained from running half-marathons while nursing sore knees, to lifting weights while nursing a sore back.

Listening to your body or to what you wanna hear?
Listening to your body or to what you wanna hear?

However, I do at times abuse this “Listening to Your Body” philosophy. I invoke it whenever the temperature is too low to wake up early and hit the gym, or the stress too high to get off my backside and hit the pavement.

That’s right. Despite my tremendous passion for running, there ARE occasions when even I, the Jogging Dad, want to skip a run, all in the name of “Listening to Your Body“. The truth of the matter, I hate to admit, is that it is invariably just an excuse. A very good excuse, mind you, one with a ring of Confucian legitimacy to it and virtually impervious to criticism. But it is still just an excuse, at the end of the day, to hide the fact that I just feel too lazy to go for a run.

Continue reading