Wrong bin! Not even recyclable!
Where did the time go?
It is a question that I often ask myself as the calendar flips over to a New Year. And it is a rather ironic question, given that I spend most of the 365 days of the preceding year trying to hurry time along.
As a father, I sometimes foolishly wish time could fly. Fly so that my two boys would reach an age that requires less of my time, and frees up more of it to pursue a bucket list of interests.
As a runner, I continually wish time could accelerate. Accelerate during the interval between race A and race B, so that I can race and see the progress I’m making in this little hobby.
And, as a working man, I constantly wish time could expedite. Expedite in order for weekends to come around faster, seasons to go pass quicker and holidays to arrive earlier.
Every night between 10.30 and 10.50, I perform a task. It involves tiptoeing into my six
No, no, no Mr Joggin Dad, you’re doing it all wrong, wrong, wrong!
year-old son’s room, carefully carrying my sleeping first-born in an upright position to the bathroom, with his head resting on my shoulder. Once there, I pull down his pyjama pants and sit him on the toilet so that he can do his night-time relief – something he rarely fails to do even though he is usually still in dreamland. I then carry Prince #1 back to his room, tuck him into bed snuggly, and repeat the whole exercise with Prince #2, my precious four year-old second son.
“You know, you shouldn’t do that! You should allow your children to learn to visit the toilet at night by themselves“. Continue reading
I have an affinity with running, one that has grown over the years to become a passion. That passion, at least for me, is rarely motivated by the reasons that people commonly assume are behind the act of running. To lose weight? My weight is just fine, thank you! To improve cardiovascular fitness? What’s that!?! To win races? Yeah, right! To clock ever-faster pacing? Couldn’t care less!
A privilege to have a hobby that puts THIS in my head
Don’t get me wrong, I always strive to beat my PBs in every race that I enter and my mood swings depending on whether I succeed or not. But I can honestly say, hand to heart, that wanting to become a better and faster runner is about the further thing from my mind whenever I lace up my trusty pair of Brooks and head out for a jog.
So what is it, then? Why would anyone put himself through the drudgery of running, putting undue pressure on the joints, unsightly sweat on the body and unattractive grimace on the hills? Why would anyone do this, often for an hour or two at a time, when there are so many more pleasant things to do in life?
Fucked if I know!
But let me put it another way. What if you were blessed with the opportunity to take up a hobby? Continue reading
Ever since our two boys L and C arrived on the scene, I have rarely managed to talk to my wife like we used to B.C. (Before Children). Back in those days, our conversations were spontaneous and fun. Most importantly, they went back and forth in a coherent sequential string.
Enter the Children!
Everybody, talk at once
Now that they are 6 and 4, going on to 16 and 14, my wife and I can’t for the life of us converse in a normal human way when these little ones are around.
To begin with, there is no eye contact. This is because our attention is constantly diverted by the boys’ needs, be it gluing together their cardbard ninja swords or breaking up their no-holds-barred ninja fights. Even during those brief moments when our eyes do meet, I know hers are preoccupied trying to see through mine, so that she can keep a watch on the mischief the kids are up to behind my back. Continue reading
“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