“THOMAS! Stop splashing others in the face or we’re going straight home!” thundered a forty-something man at his son whose age was probably about a tenth of his father’s.
We all feel like that sometimes!
Instead of taking heed of the threat, however, the kid immediately proceeded to intensify his splashing on all the other children around him in the swimming pool. Not only that, but he started snatching their floating paraphernalia (foam noodles, kicking boards) and chucking them all over the place.
“RIGHT, THOMAS, YOU COME OUT HERE RIGHT NOW, AND ALSO SAY SORRY TO ALL YOUR FRIENDS!” screamed his father from poolside.
I’m not sure whether any of the other children were his friends but none of them appeared thrilled that this Thomas boy blatantly ignored his father and refused to get out of the pool. Certainly, my younger son, C, was no friend of Thomas, having had his little goggles repeatedly fogged up by unwanted splashing in his direction. Continue reading →
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 went for another long run early this afternoon, in preparation for my marathon next month. It was a 30-degree celsius day but felt like at least 35, as the cloudless sky gave no respite from the fierce sun.
At around the 23km mark, I really began to suffer from the heat. It didn’t help that my mind
Run, Jogging Dad, run
started to be unkind, niggling me with remarks such as: “You’re tired already? After only 20-odd km’s? Do you realise that you’re barely half-way through the distance that you will be running next month“?
So I decided to give this mind of mine something to think about, something to dwell on instead of needling me on the preposterousness of running in this heat. I challenged it to come up with the most inspiring books and films on running that it has come across. Continue reading →
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.
Last Saturday, Sydney was drenched in torrential rain which frequently veered sidways due to hurricane-strength horizontal winds. Trees were falling and roofs were lifting, while the occasional sound of fire engines rushing off to emergency calls competed with periodic roars of thunder.
This was an opportunity too good to pass up, given my fetish with running in the rain.
So, as soon as C went to his afternoon nap and L settled in front of the TV, on went my trusty pair of Brooks joggers and out went my ass. Continue reading →