Health Goddess

Ouch, says the foot

I popped over to the gym today after work, determined to pound some treadmill and chalk up some distance. While I managed to push myself to run/walk for 40 minutes, beyond my usual comfort zone of 30 minutes, I could only manage 5.5km, 0.5km short of my targeted 6km.

A pity, really, because I had been in fine form during the run. I had no real pain in my side and I forced myself to breathe regularly through the nose rather than just gasping for air. The music roaring in my ears, via my iPod, was making the run on the treadmill more enjoyable than usual.

But curses, my right foot started hurting and I was practically running in pain before I decided to stop playing hero and walked for the remaining period. I had aggravated the injury, picked up a week ago while running, by pushing my speed from 9.2km/h to 9.6km/h.

Robert, the PT, told me I had better lay off running for a while so as to let the injury heal. Since it had not recovered fully in a week, I suppose I had better rule out any high-impact exercise for the next two weeks. His advice was for me to replace running with swimming, the elliptical machine or the stationary bike.


This totally sucks.
I was so looking forward to my weekly run, building up for the eventual 10km that I would have to pound for the Standard Chartered Singapore Marathon. I had to limp back to the office to dump my gym gear while sipping my milo and feeling very sorry for myself.

The only good news is that I had weighed myself after the run and downing many paper cups of water, and it was exactly 40kg. I had put on weight! The five-meals-a-day routine is starting to work.

Here’s how:
8.30am – finish breakfast of bread and tea, and bugger off to work
10.30am – half a cup of cereal in milk or a muesli bar (plus an occasional banana)
1.00pm – lunch
4.00pm – half a cup of cereal in milk or a muesli bar and tea
9.00pm – dinner

[Let’s play tag! , , ]

The organised chaos

Music 4 Mondays (9): The one about you and me

So there we were, sitting across each other at a hawker centre on a Friday night, with a bowl of bak chor tang hoon between us on the table. Not quite the romantic date anybody else would have in mind, but something just right for us.

“You know,” I said in between bites of noodles, “Why is it that you never say things like ‘oh darling you are so gorgeous and I am so madly in love with you’?”

He paused in the act of sipping up his drink, turned slightly red and grinned. No answer forthcoming, though.

“Hello? So why don’t you say stuff like that? Huh?” I demanded, waving my chopsticks belligerently at him.

He turned redder still, and his grin got wider. Finally, he managed to muster a reply: “It’s all in the heart. You know it’s all in the things that I do.”

“Uh-huh,” I rolled my eyes, “Sometimes it’s just nice to hear things like that.”

He could only grin, like a cheshire cat, in return.


He was poking vigorously at my tummy, in retaliation for the abuse I heap upon his tummy almost every time we meet. Suddenly, he stopped, looked up and said, “Are these your abs?”

I stared at him, puzzled. “Err, what do you mean?”

“These,” he said, stabbing at my midsection. “These are your abs. I can feel a line and a distinct difference.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed. It’s probably from all the crunches I do during the conditioning section of my combat classes.”

“Little abs,” he smiled. “These are your little abs.”


We sat in the car in comfortable silence. He was driving me home and it was late at night. I dozed off without realising it.

Suddenly, I could feel his fingers stroking my cheek gently, willing me to wake up. I opened my eyes in confusion.

“You were biting your lip as you slept,” he explained. “I don’t want you to bite yourself in the event that you wake up with a jerk.”


We were sitting close together, his arm around me and my head fitting perfectly in the little crook between his head and shoulders. I was doing what I loved to do, that is, asking him inane questions about life, love and the universe in general. He was doing what he always did, that is, indulging me with his answers.

“So, if I didn’t change you as a person during these past six years, what am I doing in your life then?” I asked, biting my finger.

“Well, you changed my life. Now, I have something, someone to look forward to,” he replied.

“But that could be anyone, not necessarily me,” I pouted.

“But it’s you, not anyone else,” he pointed out.


We may not say the sweetest of words to each other.
But this is how we are, who we are.

This is You and Me.

You and Me Song by The Wannadies (AAC)
All the Small Things by Blink 182 (AAC)
Love is Strange by Mickey and Sylvia (AAC)

[Let’s play tag! ]