Monthly Archives: July 2013

When the wife is away

My dear wife was recently away in Connecticut and New York for 10 days. If you ever wanted to get as far away as geographically possible from Sydney, you go to Connecticut and New York. When she first dropped this bombshell, the woman said it was for work, that she needed to put in some “face time” with the big honchos in the head office and build some relationships.

Who put all this crap in my basket?!?
Who put all this crap in my basket?!?

I don’t know whether she realised it at the time, but she was feeding me the very same line that I feed her whenever I go away on some overseas junket. Judging by the hours she spent writing up her long shopping list, I wasn’t even sure where she was going to find the spare minute to put in any “face time” with colleagues, let alone build any relationship. Continue reading

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One day, on a treadmill

I am running on the treadmill in the gym. While pacing at 12km per hour, I stare at the music videos on the array of monitors in front of me. They feature mostly half-naked female “artists” performing suggestive gyrations, while doing very little of actual singing. I wonder at what point did the music industry turn into a semi-pornographic peep show for the masses.

No peeking at your neighbours!

No peeking at your neighbours!

A fit-looking guy without an ounce of fat gets on the treadmill to my right. He starts running. I sneak a peek at his display panel and see that he’s running at a brisk 13km per hour pace. The competitive instinct kicks in and I amp up my speed to match his.

5 minutes pass and I notice that his strides are faster than mine. Another peek at his display panel reveals that he is now travelling at 14km per hour. Not to be outdone, I also increase my speed to 14km per hour. “Come on! Let’s get it on, buddy” I secretly throw down the gauntlet. Continue reading

Reminiscences of a blog operator

Welcome back to the Ashley Judd Show. Our next guest is someone who refers to himself as the Jogging Dad. As the name suggests, he is a dad and a jogger who also happens to maintain a blog in cyberspace.

Good to have you on the show, Jogging Dad.

Ok, Lance and Oprah, get off the stage! Ashley and the Jogging Dad are ready for the interview!

Ok, Lance and Oprah, get off the stage! Ashley and the Jogging Dad are ready for the interview!

The pleasure is all mine, Ashley. And, may I say, you look as beautiful as ever.

Why, thank you. Let me start by asking, how many followers do you have for your blog?

Not that many. In fact, even though I have been blogging since October last year, my follower-count is embarrasingly low, particularly when compared to some great bloggers out there who have, like, thousands of disciples.

Why is that? Are your stories just not that interesting?

Well, I guess that’s a blunt way of putting it. I mean, fatherhood and running are not exactly the most riveting of subject matters in the best of times, let alone told by someone who is not very good at either of them. Continue reading

Excuse my fartlek

"You ready for some fartlek"?

“You ready for some fartlek”?

I want to run faster. What can do I do run faster?” I pestered a friend some years ago. This was just after I began running long distances. I thought the guy would be a good authority to seek advice from, given he subscribed to running magazines and was always crapping on about various techniques.

You should do fartlek“.

FART WHAT“??!!

Fartlek. It’s where you run fast, run slow, run fast, run slow“.

Why do I even bother asking you anything! You know, I ask you for advice on how to run faster and all I get is ‘run fast, run slow’. Even worse, you call it … what did you call it again? Fartlek! What is that? Shit, that sounds like something you do when you inhale vindaloo the night before a run and then have to exhale it out the other end during the run“! Continue reading