Training for Half-Marathon: Part 1 of 5

TL;DR: I won a giveaway for a race entry to the NTUC Income Eco Run (NTUC must be my favourite local entity) on 30 April 2017, and to amuse myself*, I have decided to keep a training log for the five weeks leading up to the race  (I signed up for the half-marathon, not sure why).

*With reference to my previous post, I may find my work meaningful in general but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel weary from some of the more tedious and uninteresting matters, especially where I feel Legal is just being made use of.

Because I belong to the generation that overshares and generally enjoys kaypohing in other peoples’ business, here is Part 1 of 5, which covers almost all of Week 1 (Monday to part of Sunday).  You don’t need to read it, or even any of the subsequent parts, but if you’re bored and spend too much time on Facebook reading random stuff anyway, you can just skim this and look out for what I have underlined and made bold in the text. And of course, I will be sure to #haolian about this achievement which will take place #9monthspostpartum, regardless of how I perform.

P/S I am not very fast, sorry to disappoint.

Some more background: The week beginning 20 March, i.e. the week I entered the giveaway, started off really painfully. I figured I was burnt out from being a mum – when all you want is just 20 quiet minutes for a power nap and your toddler insists on marching around you as you lie on his bed, lustily singing THE ANTS GO MARCHING ONE BY ONE HURRAH! HURRAH!, then refuses to sleep unless he is curled into the crook of your back just so and you no longer find it endearing but have to resist the urge to shake him then give him a good spanking, something’s up. Plus I was a bit sick, and generally feeling that I wanted to get away from both Husband and the kids even though we had just had a wonderful family staycation together, to celebrate our fifth wedding anniversary! **

**Sarcastic tone.

So these five weeks of training, come what may, are my gift to myself. I’d already been training with a Ministry 10k in May in mind, maybe doing a half-marathon towards the end of the year, but since this came up – why not?

“Them” collectively refers to Daniel and Andrew.  

Week 1 (27 March 2017 – 2 April 2017)

27 March, Monday

Rest day. This is also the day I am informed that I won one of three race entries from @mokyingren’s giveaway for the Income Eco Run (so shiok that training starts on a rest day, hor?). I usually go for RPM on Mondays at lunch, but had to take a break today (see next paragraph). Also, I went for a stroller run the day before. Was, however, all haolianned-out from all the Instagram action and couldn’t bring myself to post about it. I think it was a good ~5k run at a good pace, considering that it was really humid and the stroller fan battery gave out about half-way through (it had already been used earlier in the day during the very long journey to and from church). Did 5x slope repeats at a not very steep slope (I hesitate to call it a “hill”) near my block after, and some small boys kicking a ball around peered curiously at my thankfully asleep baby in the stroller. Daniel also slept whilst we were out for the run, lucky Husband. 

I take half a day’s leave because my mum, our beloved PP, who is on Monday Them Duty, had a terrible bout of stomach flu over the weekend and although she was recovered, felt she might have needed some help. I contemplate doing an easy shake-out run, because how rare is it for my mum AND me to both be around with Them on a weekday evening?!  But I decide instead to have a nap, take my time making dinner, and iron Husband’s formal pants (he’s able to be mostly in polo shirts and jeans at work, thank God) because he is flying to the Philippines for business tomorrow night.

During my bedtime prayer with Daniel, we give thanks for my winning the giveaway. I finally acknowledge the thought that has been nagging at me the entire day, namely that I have absolutely no idea how training for this is going to go, because the quality of the training depends a lot on the boys’ health and sleep, but I know that this is entirely in God’s hands so I try to stop worrying about it.

I go to sleep at around 11pm, excited to do some intervals tomorrow (as I have been doing on Tuesdays since mid-January) with a goal in mind.

Note: The late hour was due to the fact that I spent some time drafting a snarky email to HPB highlighting to them Regulation 11(2) of the Infectious Diseases (Diptheria and Measles Vaccinations) Regulations, and undertaking to take Daniel for his second MMRV booster shot before he turns three, as he had his first MMRV shot after he turned a year old (our PD recommended delaying the second jab so as not to exacerbate his asthmatic tendencies whilst they were being treated. It has been about 9 months of Singulair so far. It is cheaper, and available OTC in Malaysia. FYIP).

My drafting of said email was hampered to some extent by Husband, who kept coming up to me in 10- minute intervals to tell me that I was abusing my legal training, and reminding me that I was responding to a computer-generated letter which I told him I felt insulted by because I felt it insinuated that I: (i) did not want to vaccinate my child against measles because it causes autism; and (ii) had broken the law by not doing so. He disagreed with my reading of it, pointing out that it was computer-generated and that we had in any event complied with the law. I ignored him, but because he distracted me, I later found two errors in my email, which annoyed me further. Want to be snarky and take moral high ground must be grammatically and factually correct, correct?  

28 March, Tuesday

2am: Daniel wakes up because he wet the bed (despite the fact that he was wearing a diaper). After cleaning him up, we give him some milk and cajole him back to sleep.

4am: Daniel wakes up and comes to our bed. He nudges into Andrew whilst he is worming his way up the bed to lie down next to me, waking him, and they both ask for milk. Or rather, Daniel asks for milk in the Most Whiny Way Possible, and Andrew just makes a heckuva lot of noise so we make him a milk to keep him quiet.  It works. They both go back to sleep.

6am: Andrew wakes up, and to get him to go back to sleep, we make him another milk. After finishing the milk, because we are derelict parents and it’s like 6am and I can wake up earlier than that for a run but not to burp my baby, we do not make him sit up so he can burp. He tries unsuccessfully to sit up but Daniel and Husband are blocking his way. He coughs a few times, and regurgitates most of his milk onto the k’Tan carrier I decided to leave on our bed for convenience. A good part of it lands on our bed anyway.

I get a towel and wet wipes, we wipe Andrew’s face, place the towel over the wet patch, calm an excited Daniel down (“Didi votited!”), and go back to sleep. To avoid getting kicked in the ribs, I shift myself to the foot of the bed, where my head is at Husband’s feet and I have to curl up, but in a not uncomfortable position.

8am: Everyone except Andrew wakes up. After I do last night’s dishes, I clean Daniel up because he has pooed, and hustle Husband out of the bathroom so I can take a shower. Whilst I am showering, I hear a thud, followed by a cry. I hope against hope, but it turns out that Andrew has rolled off our bed (again) (I told you we were derelict parents).

8.40am: Jon has carted Daniel off to his parents’ place, and although I am already late for work, my mum has not yet arrived, so I take the time to play with Andrew. He is pleased. After a while I smell poo, so I take him to the bathroom to wash him up. I take off his diaper, and note that there isn’t very much poo.

As I am preparing to wash his bum, he poos in the shower.

There is a lot of poo.

I manage, through sheer force of will and what I think is laudable acrobatic ability, to get the roll of toilet paper off the top of the cistern whilst holding on to my squirming baby. I manage to tear off a length of toilet paper, and proceed to pick up the poo. I pick most of it up, but when I try to toss the poo-filled toilet paper package into the toilet bowl, I miss. It lands on the toilet seat, and due to the semi-liquid nature of the poo, some spatters on the wall. The next bit of poo I scoop up and try to toss into the toilet bowl also misses and lands on the floor next to the toilet.

I momentarily lose my grip on Andrew and he slides onto his back in the shower. Some poo gets on the sleeve of his romper. He cries unhappily.

I take off his romper, give him a bath, douse the affected areas of the bathroom floor and toilet with Dettol (neat), and hope for the best in terms of the spreading of poo germs.

Haolian of the day: I manage not to get any poo, and only a minimal amount of water, on my work clothes.

12.30pm: After a painful morning of reading some very long comments (why does Microsoft Word keep collapsing them?!) and drafting, I finally head off with some excitement to the gym for the first interval workout of this admittedly very short training cycle. Today’s workout consisted of:

• 20 minute warm-up at 6:00/km (~3+km)
• 8x800m at 5:15-5:21/km, for an average speed of 5:19/km in effort. Took 1 minute breaks in between, at 6:00-6:19/km, and after each interval from 5-7 I had to hit pause for about 40 seconds each time. But who cares, I managed to finish all 8 intervals.
• 1 minute rest at 9km/h

-          Total distance – 10.98km (let’s call it 11), in 1:02:24.

After I am done, I feel a little like vomiting, and I remember why I set myself a measly sub-55 10k goal 1 year post Andrew. But what to do, won race entry and signed up for half-marathon already.

3.43pm: I am typing this at my desk and trying not to fall asleep.

4.08pm: I decide to get an overpriced ice lemon tea from FunToast at Star Vista. It’s not bad, at least it tastes like they bothered to extract the juice from the lemon instead of just sticking some slices of lemon into a cup of teh-o-bing siu dai.

6.40pm: I arrive home, buzzing from my second caffeine high of the day, and find that Andrew is slightly feverish. I give thanks for the extra caffeine boost, because I know I’ll be needing it.

29 March, Wednesday

Last night’s sleep could have been better – but sleep with two little kids, especially one fighting a mild fever, can always be better. It was as good as it gets in the circumstances.

I went for RPM at lunchtime with my favourite instructor, G. I have a soft spot for this class because I attended it religiously throughout the year off I had after Daniel was born. It played no small part in helping to keep me sane, and I formed friendships (well, acquaintance-ships may be a more accurate description) with people I would otherwise never have gotten to know.

7.36pm: I heat up leftover chicken macaroni soup, and sit down with the boys in front of yet another episode of Dinotrux (we’re repeating them already) to eat.  By 9.30pm, we’re ready for bed. Except that sleep is for the weak, and for those who are not teething. Or fighting off another virus. Or teething, I’m sure it’s teething this time. I hope those dratted two lower front teeth make an appearance ASAP.

30 March, Thursday

I suppose last night could have gone a lot worse in that I could have not gotten any sleep AT ALL, but what transpired (as I posted on Facebook: many times extended puppy pose, rolling around my bed whining and refusing to be carried, me praying that the boys wouldn’t wake each other up) was enough to make me remember why I decided that my 1-year goal post Andrew was simply to do a faster 10k, then work towards a solid sub-2 half marathon the year after (current best time – 1:57:13). You just can’t predict how the nights are going to go. I still intend to go for a long run tomorrow, but it may have to be shortened somewhat if tonight is like last night. Husband is back from the Philippines tonight, so he will need to get some rest too.

There’s been a Buddhist (Taoist?) wake at our void deck for the past 3 nights, and while I am all for religious harmony and really proud of Singapore for its stance on racial and religious tolerance, last night I really wondered whether the authority issuing the permits thinks about how many young children there may be in an HDB block who would be affected by the noise at night. I was so annoyed that I brought the boys downstairs and stood some distance away looking balefully at the entire proceedings. But what to do? Like that lor. I am not proud of how I reacted; I was very irritated and shouted a bit in our house (no one could have heard me over the din, and anyway the windows were closed), and I thought I was a very bad example to Daniel, who first “sang along” with the funeral band and went “dong dong chiang” whilst hitting an imaginary drum, then kept an uncertain quiet after I shouted and after asking me “Mummy, who shout?!”

This morning, when the funeral band played 世上只有妈妈好 – a surprisingly pleasant rendition, given the instruments used – I took the chance to tell Daniel that I had been “naughty” last night because didi wasn’t doing too good, and he had to always show respect to other religions. I hope I haven’t turned my child into a Christian snob.

Haolian of the day: Managing to leave the house not looking like a total train wreck (thank you, Love Bonito) after marinating some minced pork for tonight’s dinner, and turning into the office carpark just before 9.45am, despite having only left the house at 9.09am to drop Them off at childcare (“Mummy! I don’t want to go to school! I want to SLEEP!” You and me both, Daniel, but unfortunately, you can’t always have your way.)

 I usually do strength training on Thursdays with a PT (a relic of my second pregnancy), but I have an offsite meeting (which just means I will be away from my car) that’s expected to extend over lunch, so I plan to come back to the office and take a nap with whatever time there is left remaining of the lunch hour(s).

11.25am: Just before my meeting is supposed to start, I receive a call from childcare telling me that some spots have developed near Andrew’s mouth (and over the rest of his body), and I need to come and take him to the doctor to be certified HFMD-free***. Since the car is not with me, and I think my boss needs support at the meeting, I ask if I can come in about one and a half hours or so, and the teachers thankfully agree.

***ZOMG

1.15pm: With some effort, I make it to the end of the meeting. I have asked my parents to go over to the childcare first… And after I make it back to my car and fly over to the childcare, I end up meeting them carrying Andrew to the car – and he doesn’t look particularly spotty to me. Because I am not convinced it’s HFMD, I take him to the cheap and lousy GP instead of our usual nice and expensive PD, which turns out to be a mistake because the cheap and lousy GP is cursory in his examination (though he finds no spots IN Andrew’s mouth nor are there any on his hands and feet), and he also decides to swab Andrew’s mouth, just in case. That’s fine, but the swab will go to the National Swab Lab (or whatever it’s called, haha) which is FREE so it will take some time for the results to come. In the meantime, Andrew can’t go to childcare. If I’d gone to my usual PD I suppose the results would have come back more quickly. But it’s too late, I’m too tired to bring him for another doctor’s appointment, and anyway they are closed.

This may reinforce the idea that I am a derelict parent, but one of my foremost thoughts is whether I will be able to make it out of the house for a run tomorrow morning at 5.30am.

Andrew is very pleased to be at home alone with me on a weekday, and proceeds to try to get me to play with him once we get home.

8.40pm: I get home from dinner at my parents’, hurriedly clean everyone up (there are 2x poos), and hustle us all to bed. Andrew, surprisingly, falls asleep pretty easily after drinking a good 240ml of milk (leading to more doubts about whether he has HFMD). I fall asleep around 10.30pm. Part of my bedtime prayer today is that I will be able to go for my long run tomorrow morning.

31 March, Friday

Sometime in the wee hours of the morning: Husband is home!

1.30am: Andrew wakes up, and falls asleep after guzzling a bottle of milk.

4.45am: Just before my alarm goes off, Daniel stirs and I wake up with him. After making him a milk, I surreptitiously change into my running gear. Andrew stirs and gives a small cry, so I carry him and successfully get him back to sleep.

5.45am: I actually leave the house!

I contemplated Runkeepering the run, but I’ve been thinking a lot about why I run and eventually decided not to. When I took the picture for the giveaway, Husband kept asking me why it meant so much to me. Being competitive and obsessed with my body image is one thing (and I don’t deny that I am both), but I don’t think that alone can be sufficient motivation to spend practically all my weekday lunches more or less isolated (except for when I’m at a class or working with my PT) and committing to training despite not being guaranteed a good night’s sleep. I thought back to when I did my first sub-2hr half-marathon in 2013 (at the postponed 2XU one, an AGC colleague gave me her slot!), and I remembered that I didn’t care about achieving a good time or anything – I just wanted to enjoy racing. Of late, being overly concerned about distances and times has started to kill the enjoyment for me, especially with all the stuff I see on Instagram. So I left my phone at home and headed out with only a standard army-issue black Casio watch (Jon’s).

This is my first long distance early morning run in a while; my favourite part of it is the stretch past Dempsey to the Botanic Gardens. Just for that less than one kilometer, waking up at such a horribly early hour is worth it. Mist hangs from the trees, and there’s barely anyone else out running. There’s something about being up and about in these hours, racing down roads which are usually teeming with people, enjoying the sound of your own breath in the morning quiet before the sun rises, feeling your perspiration flick off your skin. When I was still at AGC, running to work in the morning was one of my favourite things to do.

Distance covered: At least 15-16km, but I’m not sure. I went down one side of the Ulu Pandan PCN from my house, down Holland Road, past Holland Village and down past Dempsey. Turned left at the Gleneagles junction, ran down past CCAB to Dunearn Road, ran down Dunearn Road, turned to go past Ngee Ann Polytechnic and Maju Camp, and back to my house.

Time: 1:43:17. I don’t think I ran THAT slowly either, hence my estimate of the distance covered.

Husband and I finally have a date night sans children (thank you, beloved PP!), and we join our friends to celebrate DMC’s birthday. I have a Mojito, a tequila shot, and about half a glass of frozen Margarita. I am buzzing pleasantly.

Update on Andrew’s health: He has a grand total of one pimple-like spot on each of his hands, but has been steadily guzzling milk. HFMD? What gives, man?

1 April, Saturday

There are only two things I have to say about Saturday:

1.  I had a hangover. Going for a quick swim didn’t help.
2.  It is irresponsible to overestimate your alcohol tolerance when you have young children to look after.

I hope I don’t have HFMD. The hangover is not helped by the slight fever I have.

2 April 2017, Sunday

I wake up with a slight sore throat and a grand total of three small pimple like spots on my left hand and one on my right, so whatever Andrew has, he passed to me. (HFMD??) I feel much better, though I think I’m going to call it a rest day instead of going for a short run. We’ll see.

Someone remind me again why I am doing this?