Out running for the first time in weeks

Finally, finally, I found myself an hour to get back on the exercise schedule. Running in the 25th storey gym, one that has a view of nothing much, is no substitute. In fact it was still hot and even more dull than running can be; I’m not exploring anywhere on a treadmill and am resigned to watching Singapore’s Channel 8, the mandarin channel, with the subtitles on.
So, in an effort to start to explore this city and to improve my woeful sense of direction (talk to my Lady about that), I took myself out along clarke quay, still humming quietly at 8pm on a Sunday evening, out to the esplanade with its dual durian marvels of architecture, their pin-prick LEDs destroying any night sky that might be on display (for example the near-full moon), onto the marina promenade, dodging past groups of amahs and youths enjoying the darkness for a final meeting before the work-week kicks off at its full-tilt pace, underneath the spinning Singapore flyer (largest in the world, also filling the night with neon pink), the slick-tarmaced F1 pit-lane and finally underneath the soaring, harbour-crossing Benjamin Sheares bridge before turning round.
It was so nice to be out and bouncing along the busy city that I had kicked along Clarke Quay at a healthy pace wanting to get past the tourists. Even though it was evening, it was still warm. Actually it was on the hot side of warm. Warm enough that within 6 minutes I was sweating and within 15 minutes I was thirsty: the hot breeze was helping to evaporate the sweat but was also ripping the moisture off my tongue. I pretty much knew I’d gone out too hard and resolved to buy myself one of those waist-belt water carriers, no matter how short a distance I may be running.
Coming back past the esplanade, still heaving with tourists and locals alike, I am staggered by how bright everything is. For a country that just ‘did it’s bit’ to raise the green bar, by partaking in the Earth Hour, I didn’t see too many establishments turn off their lights for the ear-marked sixty minutes, in fact our own hotel simply dimmed their lights. I can’t say that at street-level Singapore is the greenest or most eco-aware country, but everyone has to start somewhere. Don’t get me started on the paucity of recycling facilities, I’ll have to save that for when I have a little more knowledge.
Back to the esplanade, lit up like Changi runway, I took a right turn past the Fullerton Hotel, sitting gloriously in its little bubble of architectural history. It used to be the General Post Office and to be honest reminds me a little of the GPO in Sydney, a little nostalgia may have been the reason for what happened next.
After my right turn I suddenly realised I didn’t know where I was. Jogging slower, I saw a street sign that I recognised, Chulia Street, but that’s in the banking district. And then I ran past Raffles Place MRT, clearly now I had no idea where I was so I stopped at a coffee store and asked two guys where Circular Quay was. Blank looks. “Circular Quay?”, again mumbles in tamil, but nothing. A third chap joined them, “Circular Quay”? Nope, no idea either. And then it dawned on me, slowly, like the dehydration that had taken hold in the last 40 minutes. In my head I was asking about Singapore, but coming out of my mouth was Circular Quay, Sydney Australia. I apologised with a smile to the guys who duly cracked up with laughter and pointed in unison the same way down the street.
Off I set again, hoping that I was just a step away but reassuring myself that the longer the run the better it was for me. Too many noodles and the odd laksa here and there have added a few extra fat cells round my waist (although my doctor’s scales weigh me 4kg less than when I left the UK – I refuse to spend my time wondering why). Before I knew it, I was running onto Eu Tong Sen St, past Central Mall, across the Singapore River, past the 5G reverse bungy catapult contraption and back amongst the tourists of Clarke Quay, all looking like they were far more comfortable in the warmth than I was, despite my skinny runny clothes.
Sliding apart the hotel doors, the sexily cold air-conditioned lobby greeted me and in return my heart-attack face greeted the receptionist. Not wanting to stink up the poor man’s front desk, I skipped straight to the pool. The luxury of having a swim straight after a run in this hot stick country is not to be underestimated and I am looking forward to kicking along the East Coast in a couple of weeks when we move into our own place.
To be running by the ocean as the sun comes up and then to be able to cool off in our unit’s pool will be wonderful. The benefits of a regular schedule cannot be underestimated and I’d like to think (after a few weeks of trying to get my feet under not one, but two desks) that I can get back onto a good schedule, whatever that might be here. Here, where the sun comes up at the same time, sets at the same time and knows no difference on the weather, why would a schedule need to change?
Shovel