A last bit of unpleasantness

I got up this morning to do a few intervals, my last set before the race. I wasn't looking forward to them much: I really struggle with the faster paced ones now. Back when I was sprinting round Happy Valley in October they seemed much easier.

Still, I managed to keep close to pace on the first two, but died a death trying to run a k at 5k pace - I was making all kinds of horrible noises as I ran, like a cat that had been beaten with a broomstick.

I imagine.

Sweaty in Singapore

This morning I woke up before 6, and because I couldn't get back to sleep and couldn't think of anything better to do, I went out for a run. I've run every day that I've been in Singapore except for last Saturday, when I was hungover, and the routes are beginning to merge together.

Running, enraged

Another day, another run. And just as the days grow shorter, so do the runs. I was running around the jogging track (a little clearer of people walking very slowly at six-thirty) when a guy in a sweat-drenched t-shirt overtook me.

Well, I wasn't having that. A burst of aggression and rage sent me past him, and kept me going for three more kilometres at (finally) above marathon pace. It's a shame this is half the required distance, and it required a head full of negative thoughts to do so.

The Problem With Perspiration

I went to the gym tonight for the first time in ages. With the competition behind me, I no longer have to feel stressed about not eating biscuits on the sofa and playing videogames rehearsing. This had precluded most exercise for the last few weeks, and although the last time I went to the gym I was so bored that I attempted to simultaneously row and read a book, I knew I had to go back and burn some calories.

Cycling in Hong Kong - again

I went for another ride on Lantau, this time demonstrating the truth of Noel Coward's maxim about mad dogs and Englishmen. As a sign of how hot it was last week, the midday heat was more bearable than 8am had been last Sunday.
Chi Ma Wan at Garmin Connect

Poetry and sweat

Today I went to the gym at lunchtime, which turned out to be a mistake. I assumed that after half an hour of exerting myself over the rowing machine I'd be suffused with a post-exercise glow that would keep me cheery through the afternoon. Instead, I read a perfunctory email on the way back from the gym and was in a huff for the rest of the afternoon, this state of mind worsened by having worn myself out. At least I had remembered a change of clothes, rather than going to the office in a nylon singlet and a pair of short shorts.

Broken

I'm lying on my bed, hardly capable of typing, staring at my toe which is turning a darker purple, and I'm worrying whether I've broken something or just bruised it really badly.

Here comes the hot (and sweaty) stepper

I commenced my training for the Taipei 101 run-up today, by going to the gym and using the stepping machine. I'm not sure if I could call this a success or not. I did manage to lose two pounds between when I went to the gym and when I came back, and I didn't vomit over anyone or turn grey and pass out, but on the other hand, if the stepping machine's display is to be believed, in twelve minutes I only ascended 5 floors. One sixteenth of the target.

Air Conditioning Man, a possibly sordid tale of cold air and ... things

I went to the gym today, because I'd been perturbed to see that even though yesterday I'd spent all day dehydrating, I still weighed two pounds more than I had in the middle of the week. 646 calories dutifully burned off, I staggered to the towel desk to hand back my damp towels. The woman behind the desk smiled and stared at me, and then read "I've almost finished ... my screenplay" and beamed at me. I've decided as a result of this that the Wan Chai California Fitness is the best branch, because they have the happiest person in charge of towels. Unlike the lady in Causeway Bay who gets cross if you put the towel an inch to the left of where her sign says it should be, or the uncommunicative chap in Central, in Wan Chai they have a cheery woman who'll read out the front of your t-shirt, as long as it has an amusing logo. Thanks Gerald!

(Gerald was the chap who gave me ten useful bits of advice, many, many years ago. And the eponymous t-shirt, more recently.)

Tennis

The South China Athletic Association have tennis courts available
across Hong Kong; there's some in Wan Chai, close to where I live for
the next week, and also up in Jordan, near my friend's place.

Now it's been over two years that I've lived in Happy Valley, in
reasonable range of a public tennis court, and in all that time I've
played precisely zero games, so in order to maintain this immaculate
record, I took the train to Jordan.