The peaks of Kinabalu

My visitor chart looks like the peaks of Mt K.

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You wouldn't believe this...

... but I actually RAN FOR THE BUS today! Or at least trotted for it. Oh wonders of wonders! Each day just gets better. And that's my new year's wish for all of you: that each day is better than the last.

All this euphoric trotting for buses is making me one to make a resolution list, so here goes:

In the year 2006, I hope to, God-willing,

1. Get to work on-time.
2. Keep my desk clean.
3. Clean out my room.
4. Keep the fish tank clean. (and the fish alive)
5. Run the full marathon in December 2006.
6. Eat less fatty meat and fast food.
7. Make an effort to cultivate/ mantain friendships outside my comfort zone.

And other quiet resolutions only between me and God.

I am such a sloppy girl -- three out of six of the above deal with personal tardiness! Tsk. Aw well... who keeps resolutions anyway? ;)

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Play speed 1/2x

I am having a terrible case of I-don't-want-to-do-this-right-now, even though my other boss just reminded me of an important project that needs to get started by yours truly, I am still sitting here typing, day-dreaming of a day when my legs don't ache, and thinking about going Christmas shopping.

I had a surreal moment last night. A bulging bladder woke me in the middle of the night and I sat up in bed ramrod straight, staring at the route to the toilet. But I couldn't move. I was convinced that between the blessed toilet and I was a series of steep downward steps and rocks that my poor legs could not manoeuvre. So I leaned against the wall and nodded off to sleep again. I don't know how long it took me to figure out that the steps were imaginary (all but one anyway) and mustered the courage to finally get out of bed.

But enough of these embarrassing stories. I figured that if you're reading this, you may have a bad case of I-don't-want-to-do-whatever-I-have-to-do -right-now too, so here are some links to aid you along the way.

• Do non-Christians really make the best "theological films"? Sometimes I really think so. Thom Parham makes an interesting argument in this article. (Thanks Jim for the link!)
• George Barna has gone from being a reseracher to a fiery doomsayer. He says the end of the local church is nigh. Read Barna's summary of his new book Revolution here, and Christianity Today's article on it here. It seems like a somewhat individualistic way of doing things to me.
• What a lot of "churchy links". Aw well. Will do different next time.
  

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Late Christmas Greetings

Feeling a little sick since I got back from Kota Kinabalu: slight headache, feverish, no appetite, no motivation to work or play, cannot stand, cannot walk, cannot climb, and certainly cannot walk down steps. This trip costs one grand, one Christmas, and comes with a lot of side effects; yet, so worth it.

Merry Christmas everyone... Hope everyone had a wonderful and blessed Christmas season.

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Mt. Kinabalu

What, or who, is this mountain?
In 1991, two climbers from Sarawak went missing and were never found again.

In 1994, eighteen British soldiers spent a month lost in the thick jungle.

In August 2001, two British teenagers missed a turning on the granite slope and got lost as the weather conditions detriorated rapidly. Most unfortunately, the 16-year old girl was found dead six days later.

This was the mountain we wanted to climb -- the highest peak of Southeast Asia at 4095.2km -- Mt. Kinabalu.

The local Dusuns treat the mountain with the deepest respect. Every year, seven white cockerels and seven eggs are offered to appease the mountain spirits at Panar Laban, which means "place of sacrifice" in Dusun language. While foreigners like me see a large, imposing nine million year-old granite mountain formed by the movement of the earth and grows at an average of 1cm every two years, Dusuns see the spirits of the mountain.

Even the British-Malaysia team that made the first full descent into the insurmountable Low's Gully in 1998 conceded that it was not so much that they had "conquered" Low's Gully as the mountain "allowing them passage". The team admited that their historic feat would have been impossible without the coincidence of an El Nino which kept conditions dry enough for the descent.

Who is this mountain? This is her Dusun name: Kinabalu -- the "revered place of the dead".

Mt Kinabalu, taken from a suspension bridge by the road

The route to the Park Headquarters
The trip from Kota Kinabalu to the foot of Mt Kinabalu took us about two and a half hours. It is a long and winding route and we had a driver whose idea of avoiding motion sickness is to put your seat down, close your eyes and relax. My idea of avoiding motion sickness is to NOT weave in and out of winding streets and NOT accelerate and brake like a maniac, duh. We passed by a large overturned trailer by the side of the winding road, glass shattered everywhere; it had been going too fast.

If you are not car sick, thank God, the view on the route between Kota Kinabalu and the Park Headquarters is quite something. At one point, I think near Kampung Kelawat, the mountain rises dramatically as you round a corner. The sheer size of the mountain can give an otherwise normal city girl megalophobia, the fear of very large objects. We are going to climb that?!?

We stopped at Pekan Nabalu where our driver got his kopi while we snuck out to get the picture below. Shifting cultivation covers most of the hills here.

Clothes hanging out to dry with the peak of Mt Kinabalu behind

From here on, the weather gets cooler and the mountain peeks in and out of view as you go along. We caught sight of the impressive long trailing waterfall of the Kadamaian -- it looked like a large gash on the side of the mountain. The water on Mt. Kinabalu is freezing, as I would find out later...

Got to the Park Headquarters at 9am and stood around with the other climbers, anxious to start this adventure.

The Climb to Panar Laban
One of my favourite bits of this route is watching the vegetation change. It starts out looking like a tropical rainforest with a thick canopy, and as you climb higher, it gets sparser until you are surrounded by gnarled looking trees. Below are the variation by altitude:

Lowland dipterocarp forest	Rich with fruit trees such as rambutan, durian, and figs.
Lower montane oak-chestnut forest	Above 1,200m, conifers and oaks become more dominant. Oaks and chestnuts are important food for squirrels.
Upper montane forest	Above 2,200m, trees are thickly cloaked and shawled with mosses and liverworts dripping with moisture. Abundant orchids.
Sub-alpine zone	About 3,300m, the trees are gnarled and stunted, forming a shrub community with conifers and rhododendrons dominant.
Nothing zone	Above 3,700m, fierce winds and torrential rains make it impossible for plants to survive. A few bonsai-looking shrubs exist in sheltered places.

This part of the climb is remarkably enjoyable, with breath-taking views both of the peak as well as the valley below at various points of the climb. We stopped at Layang-Layang for a sandwich, chicken wing and boiled egg lunch. The last bit with the granite stones is steeper and more tiring, it gets colder too, especially if it starts drizzling, and it is a relief to see the Laban Rata resthouse finally in front of you.

The picture on the left is of a pitcher plant (Nepenthes), a carnivorous plant that traps, drowns and eats unwitting insects.

View from Laban Rata

The view from Panar Laban steals your breath away. The locals were playing sepak takraw on the ledge against a backdrop of sunset and clouds, undescrible! Literally, it is the same view as from an airplane, only that you were outside with the clouds.

Sepak takraw in heaven?

The mountain that steals your sleep
I couldn't sleep a wink. Nada. I had a headache, felt like I couldn't breathe, couldn't get comfortable, and lay there with my eyes closed and my mind running a mile a minute. I was actually grateful when I heard the first people getting up at the unbelievable time of 1:45am 'cos I was sick of trying to fall asleep. What an ominous start to a long day..

The *cough cough* race to the summit
We were up at 2am for a slice of bread with jam and a hot cup of coffee. I wore practically everything I brought -- one sleevelesss top, one t-shirt, one long-sleeve sweater, one windbreaker and one lined track pants. Met our guide at the breakfast hall and left at 2:30am.

I was a bit worried about climbing in the dark but after a while I realised that it was really just a matter of going one step at a time, and not worrying too much about what you cannot see. A bit like life I guess. ;P

The climb up is steeper than the day before. About one-third way, S got nauseous because of the altitude and took some maxolone. The nausea was worse when we stopped for a break. At one point, because of the dark and the thin air, I found it somewhat hard to breathe, but I think that was more like a mini-panic attack and it went away once I stopped thinking about it. :)

Our torches died twice enroute. In the end, we climbed by the light of the moon. Thank God it was a half-moon night! Because we couldn't see very well, I stepped into a large puddle of icy-cold water. Brr! I yelled at S not to step into it, but the next thing I knew, in her foot went as well. It is amazing how quickly you stop feeling your toes.

I will always remember looking back and seeing the little moving points of light behind us (like The Lord of the Rings!), and the little lights from the villages far below. Without the lights, the landscape is desolate and makes a person despair.

We reached the summit at 5:55am, 5 minutes before the sunrise. We were tired, cold, and wet, but the view was awesome.

On top of the world!

Sunrise from the top

Back down again



The trip down killed me. I have one tip: bring a walking stick. We didn't have one and by the time we got half way down, we needed all the help we could get. Our legs would suddenly buckle and we would laugh -- our legs were that far gone. I thought I would never get out of that god-forsaken mountain! Altogether, we took nine hours up and six and a half hours down, but the journey down feels so much worse.

It was made worse by the rain which made everything slippery. I think I slipped at least five times. One Japanese tourist slipped and fractured her leg and so had to be rescued. How awful!

Back in Singapore
Cannot walk, cannot stand, cannot walk down stairs, feverish, nausea, no appetite, but so worth it! :)

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I didn't get it

Went for an interview for this job and got a letter today that told me that I didn't get it. Now I feel like curling up with my bolster in a corner and flagellating myself with tied up bedsheets for being so useless.

Maybe not. But it is still disappointing.

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brown paper packages

I love the smell of sun on bedsheets. I love catching sight of a bird in a bush, the sound of a mynah's chirping first thing in the morning.

I love watching my parents laugh. I love holding your hand. I love watching people take care of other people, watching your children push you in the wheelchair.

I like being pampered when I'm sick, when you pet my arm and say, "Poor thing!" I like hot soup, porridge and kang kong, salty steamed fish cake and stir-fried pork ribs.

I like hearing you talk.

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Shelob

What has eight legs and is larger than my hand?




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This!



I saw her on the overhead bridge near my place. She had spun a gigantic web reaching from the top of the roof to the bougainvillea plant below and when I took this picture, she was in the middle of her web gloating over her trapped prey.

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blessed

Can't wait to go on holiday. Simply can't wait.

I know I have a good job when it is only 6:35pm and I am feeling that this is an unusally long and busy day. My shoulders hurt and I feel a little scattered and stressed from doing too many tasks at the same time all day, but I am grateful that I can go home now to sit with my family.

This blog is too mushy.

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Elliptical Machine

I tried one of these Elliptical machines at the gym yesterday. They are called Elliptical machines because your foot moves with the pedal in an elliptical motion, with reduced impact on the knees and other joints as compared to the regular threadmill. While this means that it is better on your knees, it also means that you burn less calories per hour because it is low-impact.

I did a 20 minute workout on resistance 9 at varying gradients. Although most people find a regular threadmill harder than the elliptical, I was quite done in by this machine.

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Training to climb Mt Kinabalu

Oh boy. According to Kevin Chia, you should start training two months before your climb.

The typical training programs (relevant if you are based in Singapore) are two months long covering the weekends and they consist of:

(a) Trekking at Macritchie Reservoir to Bukit Timah Hill (About 10 km) and Bukit Timah Hill Parks HQ to its summit (Take the steep slope up, rock path, dairy farm, jungle fall then summit) - This builds up your stamina for the Day 1 of Kinabalu Trek to Laban Rata (abt 6 km).

(b) Stairs climbing at 30-sty HDB Flats (You can choose Toa Payoh Lor 1. There are 40 sty blocks but we felt that the staircases were too short & winding) - This builds up your stamina for the Day 2 of Kinabalu Trek to Summit (abt 3 km).

Crud! I only have one week! If I start training now, wouldn't I be tired by time I get there?

Jame DiBiasio has a harrowing account of her climb up Mt. Kinabalu, all 4,095m/ 13,434ft (and growing) of it. Guess what's the sub-line of her article? "What ever made me think that I could climb Mt Kinabalu?" Ha!

What impulses drive people to go places where they're not welcome? Human beings have no business on mountaintops, even if the mountain is a relatively puny one like Kinabalu. There is nothing to eat, nothing to drink, nothing to shelter us from the wind and the sun, and not even enough air to breathe. The process is expensive and time-consuming and, at times, lonely. It's hell on your knees, your leg muscles, your lungs. Even sleep is denied you by the altitude and the thin air. You are stripped down naked, your willpower exposed. Jame DiBiasio

My only consolation is that I've been training for the half marathon so my cardio-vascular fitness shouldn't be too bad. Am a bit worried about getting altitude sick though. And it strikes at random! And it depends on something called "hypoxic ventilatory response", whatever that means.

Beyond mere huffing and puffing, some people begin to suffer such symptoms as headaches, nausea, and lethargy as low as 8,000 feet. Above 12,000 feet or so, virtually everybody suffers a bit, at least initially. As altitude increases, symptoms can become more severe, including potentially fatal cerebral and pulmonary edema. Oddly, altitude sickness seems to strike almost at random; a vegetarian marathon runner may be laid low while the fat chain-smoking slob in the next tent does just fine. One theory says that one's susceptibility to altitude sickness depends on one's involuntary background breathing rate, or hypoxic ventilatory responses. The higher yours is, the better. A Mountain Climbing Primer

The tips to combat altitude sickness sound just as scary:

The most important thing is to ascend gradually once you get above 10,000 feet or so—ideally, no more than 1,000 feet per day. This gives the body time to acclimatize by building up extra red blood cells and growing more capillaries. Altitude acclimatization days are an inherent part of any mountaineering expedition above 15,000 feet. Acclimatization on Everest takes weeks, with climbers returning to base camp several times to recover before pushing on. Your success as a mountain climber may well hinge on your ability to adjust to a low-oxygen environment.

Secondly, guzzle water like there's no tomorrow. This helps to keep your blood at the proper level of acidity, which affects your natural breathing rate. Thirdly, take Diamox, a prescription diuretic that has been shown to prevent or delay altitude sickness in most people. A Mountain Climbing Primer

Great lah. Laban Rata is at 3,273km (10,738ft) and the climb to the summit is another 822m (2,696ft) which is about 2.7 times above the recommended altitude increase a day.

Since I don't have time to train, I'm willing myself to grow more red blood cells. Does anyone have any tips?

---

Update TrainofThot thoughtfully gave the links to two articles on mountain climbing. This article has good tips on treating altitude sickness, and this article has tips on what to bring.

The article reiterates that above 3000 metres, you should not climb more than 300m a day. Brilliant. It also states the side effects of the drug Diamox, and a second drug Dexamethasone that apparently makes you euphoric!

The prescription drug Diamox has been in use for over thirty years as preventative medication for high altitude sickness. It stimulates an increase in breathing, thus helping to maintain oxygenation and aiding acclimatisation. Many dose regimes have been effective with the most common being 250mg twice daily starting at least 24 hours before ascent above 2500m. However, there are possible side effects that include tingling of the lips and fingertips, blurring of vision and alteration of taste. Dexamethasone is a steroid drug that is also used to prevent AMS, although it is not as popular as Diamox and does not aid acclimatisation. The recommended dose for adults is 4 mg every six to eight hours and should be taken at least 24 hours prior to ascent. Short term use of dexamethasone is relatively free of side-effects, although it is usually associated with a euphoric feeling that may mask symptoms of HAPO and HACO.

Interestingly, lots of water, carbohydrate and garlic helps with altitude sickness. Yep, you heard right, garlic!

This, though, is the clincher. It made me laugh out loud. :)

Rapid accent to high altitudes often results in the syndrome known as acute mountain sickness (AMS). The first recording of mountain sickness was in the History of the han Dynasty (Ban gu) in 30 BC, where Chinese travellers named their climbed mountains "Mount Greater Headache, Mount Lesser Headache and Fever Hill".

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Singtel Internet SMS sucks!

Singtel has apparently outsourced their internet SMS services and there is only one word for it: it sucks!


The log-on screen looks crappy. What's up with the multi-coloured background and the low-res picture of the fella playing golf? It gives an "unable to connect" screen when I try to register for a password. And when I finally get my password and try to login, nothing happens.

I'm still waiting..

... (five minutes later)

... (ten minutes later)

Quite unbelievable that they have turned a simple one-step process into a multi-pop-up window nightmare. I understand that this is a free service provided by Singtel and users don't have the right to complain but these are the little professional touches that sets Singtel apart from its competitors! Easy, efficient internet SMSing was the one reason I would have chosen you over M1.

Hope you know what you are doing.

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Survivor: Down to the final three

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No wonder I feel like crap

I live right smack in the doldrums!

“The doldrums are a belt of very still air near the equator that stalled sailing ships. The doldrums are located between 5 degrees north and 5 degrees south of the equator. The doldrums are also known as the Inter-tropical Convergence Zone (or ITCZ).

Early sailors named this belt of calm the doldrums because of the low spirits they found themselves in after days of no wind. To find oneself becalmed in this region could mean death in the era when wind was the only motive force available, and it was certainly a depressing experience to be isolated, in the middle of the ocean in a hot muggy climate.”

Thanks Joan

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Sunday Lunch

Celebrated my mother's birthday by catching a free wind ensemble perfomance at the esplanade, and then heading to Siam Kitchen for a bounteous Thai buffet lunch.

The audience at the performace irritated me with their hooting and other obnoxious behaviour. But it was all put right after a couple of plates of spicy pomolo salad.

Happy birthday, mum.

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Letters to the dead

12:44 AM. I wonder if she is asleep. The night makes me want to write letters. Letters to politicians, letters to friends, letters to dead people. To tell them what is wrong with the world, and what, exactly, is wrong with me.

12:46 AM. Dear so-and-so. There are three things I have never told anyone. 1. My letters are poisoned with sarcasm and misplaced wit. 2. I think I am funny. 3. But in these unwritten letters, I am king.

12:53 AM Have you ever seen the deepest clear grey eyes, in which you can see your very soul? As if you could drop a coin in, and you would barely hear the sound – the well is that deep?

12:55 AM Neither have I.

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naming the teh

teh ah-lia halia warms the cockles of my heart! :)

teh ah-lia halia is a hot indian tea with milk, condensed milk and ginger. Ahh... :) Last night, I bought a packet of teh ah-lia halia from the railway station after a run. When it had cooled down enough to take a large sip from the straw, it made me sigh aloud in appreciation. Ahh.. it warms the cockles of my heart!

These are the various types of tea you can get at in Singapore.

teh tarik	literally "pulled tea". The guy "pulls" the tea from cup to cup for a frothy cup of sweet milky tea.
teh-O	hot tea with sugar, without milk
teh-C	hot tea with Carnation brand evaporated milk
teh-bing peng	iced milk tea
teh-kosong	hot tea without sugar and milk
teh-ah-lia halia	hot tea with sugar, condensed milk, and ginger
tiao yu	Literally "catch fish", tiao yu refers to Chinese tea because dunking the teabag looks like fishing with a rod.

This is again repeated with the coffee: kopi, kopi-O, kopi-kosong, and kopi-bing peng. As far as I know, there is no kopi tarik or kopi-C. Though for kopi, you can get kopi-gao, which means extra strong coffee.

My friend mentioned that our names for our hot beverages is a mish-mash of languages. For example, "kosong" and "tarik" is Malay, "bing" is Chinese, and "C" is English. "Pak Giu" (Milo) is Hokkien. In fact, surprisingly enough, the English word "tea" originates from the Malay word "teh".

So, what do you like in your cuppa?

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Still looking back

Four and a half years ago, this was the objective on the top of my resume:

"To find a fruitful job that will help pay for seminary."

Gosh. How things have changed since then.

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Beginning the review: 2005

Stolen from Tym. This is the first post in 2005:

Welcome 2005!
I am glad 2004 is over and done with. There is a certain psychological satisfaction in entering a new year. It is almost as if there really is a difference between Fri, Dec 31 and Sat, Jan 1, and that somehow the grime, bad karma, depression of the previous year will be washed away. It rained all day yesterday too. It was a persistent rain, on and on and on and on, like a little energizer bunny, hosing the old year out.

And in this light, new year resolutions for 2005:

...

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Picture two

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A Prayer for Owen Meany

I bawled when I got to the end of this book. I had fallen in love with with the tiny, squeaky-voiced Owen Meany who SPEAKS IN A CAPITAL LETTERS, and it was heart-breaking to feel like you couldn't do anything to help or the change the way it was going to end.

What is it like to know the day that you would die? Is it how Christ felt like when he told his disciples, "They will kill me, and after three days I will rise"? What is it like to have the burden of having to suffer and die so that you could redeem the world, and no one, not even your closest friends, have any idea? I have never thought of it this way. No wonder Jesus cried in the Garden of Gethsemene.

Owen Meany is a Christ figure. Unlike Dostoevsky's The Idiot, Owen is not just the ideal Christian -- loving, submissive, and kind. Suprisingly, almost blasphemously, Owen is described to have the authority of Christ. The nativity scene in this novel brings new meaning to the last line of the Christmas carol Silent Night: "Jesus, Lord at thy birth". I don't think I can sing this line the same way again.

In many ways, this novel is an UNSPEAKABLE OUTRAGE, as Owen would put it, because it is blasphemous, seething with anger and a sense of impending doom. All of this is embodied in `Hester the Molester'. Yet, when Christ was born on earth, isn't that exactly how it is? An UNSPEAKABLE OUTRAGE?

Go read the book. At points it gets tedious, but it is worth it in the end. This book comes in number one spot with The Cider House Rules for me. The plot is less interesting, but Owen Meany, as a character, is riveting.

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Picture One

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silent night

Strangely sentimental. Possibly because there isn't anyone else in my department, and it is just me and an incomprehensible powerpoint cacooned together in an air conditioning cubicle on a hot tropical afternoon. Possibly because of the Christmas carols crooning from my computer, sad sentimental words that I've forgotten about between last Christmas and this.

By the end of this month, I wouldn't want to go near a Christmas carol with a ten-foot pole, but right now, in this cool cacoon, the words mean something.

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Can you see this?

Very strange. I can't access any page on blogspot, yet they are allowing me to put up a new post. I hope it is a problem with blogger's server and not because my organisation has banned access to blogspot pages. That would be sad.

Update: Problem solved. :)

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The day of the big race (21.1km)

The day started for me at 4am. Woke up bleary-eyed, brushed the teeth, boiled the water for the coffee, and sat down and had four pieces of Jacob's Sunlife Breakfast biscuits with Gold Roast 3-in-1 low sugar instant coffee. My father was also up -- he was up 'cos he thought it was 6am already, the poor guy! -- and he was making soft-boiled eggs for breakfast, so I had one as well.

Dad was talkative so early in the morning already. He told me a story about how my uncle died during the riots of the 60s. Surprisingly, this was a story I had never heard before. Finally I excused myself to get into my running gear. I had laid out the clothes the night before so all that was required to put it all on and slather on the Vaseline. I put the blessed Vaseline everywhere -- between my toes even -- and I was glad of it, because after the run, I was abrasion-free, which is a big deal because I chafe easily.

Smole came to pick Jamie Oliver and me up under my block. Her dad dropped us a distance from Esplanade and so we had to walk the rest of the way there. Jamie Oliver decided to wait for us at the bus stop while we went to the baggage area, which turned out to be a bit of a stresser, because by the time we came back, there was a barricade between us and her, and the guy adamently refused to let us pass through the barricade so that we could proceed to the start line together. We pointed to where we would meet but by the time we got there, we couldn't find her anywhere. We looked and looked. By this time, the race had started and the 10km people were already hoarding the starting line. We waited 10 minutes and finally decided to start running. Had to squeeze through the 10k folks to get to the starting line. Eventually they parted to let us through. Two walls of people looking at us as we passed, as if we were crossing the finish line like that!

Smole was pretty peeved about losing Jamie Oliver, but thankfully, we caught sight of her as we turned into Marina, and so it was all good.

One of the best things starting a whole 11 minutes late is that you get the entire road to yourself. And you get to overtake loads of people along the way. We saw the elite runners coming the opposite direction while we were running along Shenton Way. Boy did they look good. The sun was rising at that point -- Marina South was beautiful -- at least until we joined the hoard of u-turning 10km runners. Then it was overtake, squeeze, overtake, like atoms squeezing through to the bottom of the jar.

Had the powergel at the 12km mark. Yuck. I hate how that stuff tastes. But I supposed it helped cos I wasn't too tired at all the whole route. Nicole highway was hot. We stopped and asked one of the officials to help us take a photo -- Smole carried the camera the whole way.

The last bit was hard on Smole. But we carried on running, anyway, despite Smole's unusually high heart rate and the pain in the knee. We stopped to walk about 10 metres at the 20km and the 21km mark, but other than for that it was a slow plodding all the way. We crossed the finish line in 2hrs 35mins, in the heat of the 9am sun. Jamie Oliver finished the route too. I'm so proud of us! :)

There is something about running in a race that is different from running on your own. It is being a part of the moment; it is running in the same race as the elites; it is altogether exhilerating. Everyone runs their own race -- everyone struggles to finish on their own in their own time -- yet everyone struggles together. That is the wonder of it -- it is every man's race.

The news on TV didn't seem to capture this sense. It showed two shots -- the first man and the first woman running in, one Kenyan and one Russian. Where are the ordinary people?

It was well-organised. Lots of water and cold 100-plus at the finish line. The baggage claim was a bit of a foul-up, but not a biggie. We went home to shower first before coming back to claim our bag as we didn't want to queue. The smell at the end of the run was overwhelming. Eeuw.

So it was a wonderful day. Everything I expected and more. I felt better this time than during the Sheares' Bridge so I'm quite pleased with that. Very pleased with our training plan before the race as well. Went for lunch, then to the Sports Expo to collect our free Nike socks, and then to look at Christmas trees, before heading home for a long nap. At times like these, you feel grateful to be alive and well.

Congrats to Carine for finishing the marathon in 3hr 55mins. And to Taz, Penguin, Dream Runner for completing their first marathon. Way to go!

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The night before

Terribly excited. As if it is the night before an exam, except it is in an entirely wonderful way. Smole and I went to collect the race pack from Suntec Convention Hall this morning. The Tshirt that came in the race pack is cool. It is a bright blue Adidas climacool running top with three green stripes down the side, with a reflective strip at the end of the stripes. And, better yet, it is in the right size.

21,000 runners. It seems like everyone is running this year. We bumped into a mutual friend standing in line who will be running with his father. We stood around and talked about blisters and wet socks for a while, before going off to explore the “Marathon Village”.

The “Marathon Village” was large. Smole did the fitness test and we both got our body fat percentage tested. Smole also subscribed to the new local Sports magazine and got herself a pair of crocs for free. Crocs are those roomy, colourful, plastic shoes that originate from Boulder, Colorado that has become all the rage here. Smole got the black pair. Two lucky draw entry forms, two free bags of pasta, three race packs (we collected for Jamie Oliver too), two tiny cups of power gel drink, one magazine subscription, and two pinch tests later, we were more than ready for our Kenny Rogers’ lunch.

(What a good lunch. The chicken pot pie there is excellent. It is probably made of left over chicken, but it is bursting with flavour. I simply love this eat, drink, rest phase in training for a race! :) )

So it is the night before. Cooked some pasta a while ago and am putting my stuff together for 4am tomorrow. Shirt: check; shorts: check; EZ link: check; money: check; socks: check; Vaseline: check. Ah Vaseline, the runner’s best friend. Tomorrow I will oil myself as slick as a seal.

So adios! Wish me luck! Smole and I will be sticking together throughout the run, no matter how good or tired either one of us feels.

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Today

Sad news in the Singapore blogosphere.

Sad news at dawn.


“To lose the earth you know, for greater knowing; to lose the life you have, for greater life; to leave the friends you loved, for greater loving; to find a land more kind than home, more large than earth –– Whereon the pillars of this earth are founded, toward which the conscience of the world is tending – a wind is rising, and the rivers flow.” Thomas Wolfe

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"Sweetheart, you're going the wrong way."

I've been thinking of you a lot recently. How you like your tortellini stuffed with cheese, how you twirled me dizzy because you believed that you could teach my reluctant body salsa, how you left sweet notes by the door of our room, how we went on late night drives to nowhere because you needed to drive, how we pounded at Taco Bell's door past midnight for a $0.89 bean burrito.

I saw you too, at the airport the morning after your wedding -- I exhausted from a night of crying, you flushed pink from your first night with your husband. How would I have known that I would have bumped into you? Typically I was sending a forgotten international student off at the airport -- that was what I did that year with the car -- back and forth, back and forth -- I knew the 45 minute route between the airport and the college like the back of my hand. And that morning, as ironic fate would have it, I saw you.

I don't think you sensed how appalled I was to see you that morning. Though I saw you everyday for two years, that day was different, you were flying off, with your new husband, forever. And when you said, "xx, you should get married," and beamed in that way, a part of me died, and on the way back, I missed the exit and kept driving and driving, until my carload of international friends started yelling at me for going the wrong way.

It felt like life was going the wrong way, anyway.

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Need to

Need to, want to, have to run today, but it looks like it isn't going to happen, because it it 6:45pm and I am still at work. Unless I am super-motivated and go for a midnight run, I'll either have to be super-motivated and go for a really early morning run tomorrow, which isn't likely either. Help, I feel fat and unfit!

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We have links

The first face transplant took place in France this past weekend. Kinda reminds me of Irving's The Fourth Hand.

How to write for the web here, courtesy of The Fireant Gazette. I don't quite understand the article either. Quote:

You know you’re on the Information Superhighway to Hell if crap like enhance, leverage, implement, context, driver, focus, core, actionable, outcome and stakeholder crops up in your copy.

Everybody loves colourful bubbles!

Are you a Ravenclaw church, a Griffyndor church, a Hufflepuff church, or a Syltherin church? Find out here.

And finally, last minute announcements from the marathon organisers.

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