I am not much into accessories when it comes to running.
“You ran without me”?!
A cap? I can do without it, particularly as it tends to trap my body heat trying to escape through my head.
A pair of sunglasses? Don’t need them, for they often slide down the bridge of my sweaty nose.
A Garmin watch? A fantastic gadget that often reminds me to kick up a gear, but is certainly not indispensable. Continue reading
What is ‘it’ all about?
I have a hobby.
A hobby that could be viewed as pointless, given the amount of time that it takes out of an already hectic life.
One that can be seen as selfish, as it ostensibly benefits no one but myself.
A hobby that has no end goal attached to it, and no clear place in the grand scheme of things that is life.
A rather mundane form of exercise that can, nevertheless, both frustrate and exhilarate, often at the same time. Continue reading
If you are a keen runner and you live in Sydney, it is very likely that there is a recurring appointment on your calendar every August. Judging by the record 83,415 people who particpated last Sunday, the appointment appears be on the calendars of even those who don’t live in Sydney.
That’s me right there, in the white cap!
I am, of course, referring to City-to-Surf, an annual 14km fun run which starts from the middle of the Central Business District and ends at the world-famous Bondi Beach, with some breathtaking habour and ocean scenery along the way.
For me, however, “Fun run” is such a misnomer when it comes to describing this event. Continue reading
Despite being a keen runner, I am not very adventurous when it comes to running routes.
Never know who you may come across on this long, winding path.
During the week, the pounding usually takes place on a path that stretches along the picturesque Sydney Harbour, either around the Opera House and its nearby greenery, or near Pyrmont and its surrounding waterfront properties. On weekends, it is always along the Cooks River where a walking/running/cycling path meanders past several municipalities, through serene reserves and beautiful parks.
It is on this second route during Saturday and Sunday afternoon runs that I often come across various familar faces. There is the guy who is always practicing the art of La Passeggiata while wearing a typical knock-about Aussie attire, namely, a cricket hat, a football jersey and a pair of shorts that is way too short. Continue reading
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!
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
JOGGING DAD 