rock bottom? think again.
Every time I think I have hit rock bottom in the fitness level, I discover new depths of physical lathargy. The other day, while doing rounds in my neighbourhood, I jogged about 4km only and had to stop 3 times to catch my breath! Three times! Not once, not twice, but three!!! I finished at the awe-inspiring sub-seven km/h pace. You know, after you've stopped once, you might as well stop three times. The heart feels better for it.
I love my table of distances and times. S doesn't like it cos I think she thinks it is too boring, but I like the numbers, especially when I want to re-live the over-20k weeks (like today when I'm feeling like all I can ever do is a sub-seven km/h pace). I like watching the numbers rise and fall over the weeks. The rise and fall of the numbers is inversely proportional to the fat around my belly, and also inversely proportional to the amount of overtime I'm doing at work. Gotta love it.
The run at CCK was great though. After a rousing game of badminton with A (forearm, shoulder and butt ached the next day), I jogged 11 rounds on lane 3 of the track. It was a beautiful, crisp smelling night. There were kids playing street soccer in the court off the track; it was dark; the track was spongey; sweet tinge of red rubber in the air; two aunties sitting on the sit-up bar talking; and running, hanging in the moment, without a watch.
I love my table of distances and times. S doesn't like it cos I think she thinks it is too boring, but I like the numbers, especially when I want to re-live the over-20k weeks (like today when I'm feeling like all I can ever do is a sub-seven km/h pace). I like watching the numbers rise and fall over the weeks. The rise and fall of the numbers is inversely proportional to the fat around my belly, and also inversely proportional to the amount of overtime I'm doing at work. Gotta love it.
The run at CCK was great though. After a rousing game of badminton with A (forearm, shoulder and butt ached the next day), I jogged 11 rounds on lane 3 of the track. It was a beautiful, crisp smelling night. There were kids playing street soccer in the court off the track; it was dark; the track was spongey; sweet tinge of red rubber in the air; two aunties sitting on the sit-up bar talking; and running, hanging in the moment, without a watch.
Posted
on Tuesday, November 23, 2004 at 5:22 PM.
:)
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