One life. One God. One faith.

Reflections from San Francisco

2012-01-02T11:53:00.002+08:00

3 week of brutal confrontation with the cold here in the Bay area, a fourth week of finally getting out on the roads, taking in the awe-inspiring beauty of California and making a merry lot of new friends, many of them decades older than I am; but way cooler, healthier and fitter.

It totally thrills me to see older men and women (in their 50s to 80s) keeping their fitness despite their age...

I see them working out at any odd hour in the gym, be it 5am, 12pm, 3pm or 5pm.

I see them riding on the roads, be it flats, steep climbs or death-defying, harrowing descends.

I see them happily married, working out together with their spouses in the gym or out riding on the roads.

What more can I say? It's incredibly heartening to behold such strength of the human body and soul, regardless of age. I am privileged, no, deeply privileged, to be where I am, doing what I do, seeing things I’ve never seen, learning things I never knew, experiencing culture and people that stretches my horizon out of a small square box I call ‘my mind’.

Sitting in an airplane

2011-11-17T23:17:00.001+08:00

Sitting in a crowded airplane is like being huddled in a community. We’re in this together, whether we like it or not, whether we like each other or not. You may look different from me, hail from a different part of the world from me, behave differently; you may take up more space than I’m comfortable making room for you for, but then I’ll watch a couple of movies, slip into a quick nap at the boring bits, then slowly fall into a slumber, and by the time I’m awaken by the discomfort of sleeping in a semi-upright seat, I would have forgotten the discomfort at the start of the flight. Now, I just want to catch some reasonable rest, because I’m so very deprived of a solid one.

I see a red jacketed elderly woman walking up and down the aisle the couple of times my eyes open involuntarily, my arm brushed briefly by passengers or cabin crew squeezing along the narrow aisle. I try to avoid looking into my watch because whenever I do, I’m aghast to find that what seemed like a four-hour deep sleep turns out to be only an hour of flight time! Well, after a time or two of checking my watch, I grow accustom to this unnerving truth.

I walk to the lavatory and spot the red-jacked woman. She is working out her sore legs from the inundating hours of sitting.

“Good to stretch a little, isn’t it?” I quip.

She smiles and nods. And we get a conversation in Mandarin going.

Originating from Guangdong in southeastern China, she moved to San Francisco with her husband and four young children over 30 years ago. Her children are grown up now, she’s a grandmother of two, and babysits her own grandchildren as well as that of others for a small fee. I noticed how pleasant her breath smells – she was chewing gum! At over 60! Gracefully, she offered me one, which I gratefully took one in view of my bad breath from the hours of flight and incapable oral hygiene.

Back in my seat, I'm thinking - sitting in a filled-to-capacity airplane is like paying (big bucks!) and voluntarily surrendering to physical confinement, albeit in supposed style and luxury. But really, what luxury is there strapped in a 0.5 x 1m seat?

The issue I realize is space. Confinement to a small space limits, frustrates and retards any living being.

Take nature for example. I remember my dad, an ardent gardener by pure interest, used to tell me that we can grow a square watermelon, instead of a regular round one, simply by planting the seed and soil in a small square crate.

The Japanese koi, I was told, grows as large as the pond in which it is put in.

The coastal redwood trees in western California (the tallest living things on our planet) grow to an astounding 100m because they have so much land space horizontally and hey, the sky’s the limit, that’s why they grow so tall!

Humans, confined, either retard; or get creative - retard to immobility; or creative to break the limitation.

It’s easy to travel around the world these days; it’s hard not to do so for global expansion. Concord planes at the speed of lightning are not yet possible for regional and global commute, in view of its devastating destruction to the eco-system every time if zaps into the sky, thus we have to content to fly the planes we do today, flight times as short as an hour or as long as over 23 hours.

What do we do onboard a constrained space for over 10 hours averagely, when the freedom to move out of the 0.5 x 1m seat is further restricted by the reluctance to disturb the passenger next to us when we need to move out of our seat to get to the washroom or simply to walk down the aisle for a quick stretch for the legs?

I realized that I enjoy multi tasking, especially when watching a movie. I experience a deep sense of joy when I’m not just sitting immobile in my seat and being sucked in the melodrama of whatever I’m watching, but to be actively engaging myself, either physically on an indoor bike trainer or mentally, writing in an airplane as I am now. I must be doing something right – at this very instant, a lady in her mid forties, from Guangzhou, sitting next to me in the middle section, who speaks very little English but extremely fluent in Cantonese, who keeps to herself, was marathon-watching movies on the in-flight entertainment and on her iPad, suddenly concluded her movies and started typing on her iPad. I take a quick glance. She’s typing some notes or journal of sorts. I smile. I’m glad to inspire you to turn the entertainment off and start writing, madam.

The sense of joy arises from the fact that I am being a good steward of the time entrusted to me, to make good and be fruitful, for the day is near.

---

For you movie buffs, here are 3 movies and a documentary I watched onboard Cathay Pacific Airways from Singapore to San Francisco:

Larry Crowne - starring Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts, about a man's quest for self progress after being laid off from his job - he enrolled in college, increased his knowledge and confidence, made good friends, and with his relentlessly good attitude, turned his life around.

Everything must go - starring funny man Will Ferrell as an down and out guy who lost his job and wife in one single day, stubbornly stuck to his guts, only to give in to his dead lock circumstances, learned to clean up his act (alcohol addiction) and move on.

Oranges and Sunshine - starring Emily Watson, who played the real life character of Margaret Humphreys, a a social worker in Great Britain who dug into the nationally covered-up child migrant scheme from Great Britain to Australia in the 1940s (over 140,000 children were deported to Australia in that period) and devoted her time to reuniting the children involved, now adults in Australia, to their parents still alive and living in Great Britain. My take from this true account is not to be afraid to dig for and confront the truth; and in doing so, you may be doing more for others than you ever think you could.

Page One: Inside the New York Times – a documentary that accesses The New York Times newsroom and exposes the inner workings of the media desk

Strapped Iron

2011-11-08T09:12:00.001+08:00

What is life?

What is a life worth pursuing?

What is life, and life more abundantly?

Have I been sold by the idea of capitalism and strapped by its system?

The need to have more, if not the best. The need for distinguished branding, looking crisp and sharp, the need for prestige and status, the need to be noticed and looked upon with respect with the acquisition of wealth, status and power.

No, back track a little. Wealth, status and power come as a result of BEING IN the system, and playing by its game, its rules. The fastest, fittest, sly-est survive and climb to the top of the chain. As it is in the animal kingdom.

The beasts of the field - hunt for survival. Trees and plants - grow for survival.

People strive for achievement, fame, even for 15 minutes. What is the value after? The feel-good feeling lasts only a little while, but consider, does the time, effort and resources put into the achievement bring lasting value than mere fame and recognition that fleet as speedily as the whiff of the wind?

Schools are built for education. Sports are implemented to better the physical, mental and social well being of students.

But why are competition implemented? To test if the physical system and training work to make the human body achieve outstanding results in the midst of competition and pressure. And the reward for such time, effort and training is the medal. The feel-good feeling lasts for a moment on the podium, and after, with celebratory meals and salutary claps and slaps on the back. The medal that adorns the living room glass cabinet is looked upon from time to time while watching TV and its visible shine catches your eye. But the real deal is this - you know you are capable of more. You know that if you put your heart and soul into training for something, if you train under the right coach, under the right circumstances, you can do better and achieve greater feats. You can break your own limits. You learn that nothing is ever achieved on your own accord. You learn that you need others to hep you in your pursuit - because we are born into a world made up of families, communities and societies. Just as it takes 2 individuals to produce another, it takes more than one person; it takes more than just you to make it out here on earth. But while here, don’t just work to survive. Work to live life. Work to enjoy all life has to offer. But do so, within your means. Do not buy into commercialism. Do not buy into systems that trap and enslave you. Always consider what moves you to a greater cause, take time to consider, reject and walk away from pure capitalism that distracts with the loudest sound horn of nothingness but pure financial gain for its creators.

What lies beneath the Iron facade?

The bottom line, in my humble opinion, should never be purely about money. The bottom line of any community and organization and system has to be about people. What makes the world go round isn’t money, but people. Yes, there is money to be made from people, with a smart system, but if money is the ultimate goal, the system is not sustainable and is likely to head for self destruction without a right motive to steer its course for sustainable growth.

Thus in my personal pursuit, if my motive is not right, if I’m not pursuing my Iron dream for people, I am merely a slave and tool of the system that has bought my soul, without paying me a single dime, but have me paying it lots in return. If I am not succeeding in touching lives, helping another, bettering someone else’s life through my pursuit, let me reconsider my next move.

Journey to Ironhood II: Week 24

2011-10-16T21:21:00.000+08:00

Week 24: 10-16 Oct

A humbling experience in my first North Face trail race on 15 Oct, where I encountered the first of many incidences never before experienced in previous races:

I started out strong and fast on a lovely Saturday morn, but barely 8km into the run, I threw up by the side path, emptying my stomach of fuel necessary for my run.

10km into the run, an excruciating pain shot through my right knee. Unwilling to give up and walk, I limped and hobbled the remaining 15km to the finish line, despite the pain that refused to subside.

Weaknesses humble us. It humbled me for sure. I hobbled in dejection as runner after runner overtook me on the trail - some looked back in sympathy and asked if I was alright; some zoomed past in a flash.

Still, I kept moving, focused on putting one foot in front of the other, fueled by a fire that wouldn't stop burning in my heart.

In the midst of my personal struggle, a guy struggling with both cramped legs dropped onto the side path and asked for help. I stopped to massaged his legs; before long another runner came along and gave aid. We didn't care much about lost time; in moments of struggle, human compassion overtakes it all.

As I ran/limped/hobbled along to the finish, I greatly appreciated the camaraderie among runners that day - the ones who kept moving forward despite their bodily struggle and pain, the encouragement from fellow runners to keep on keeping on, those who share of their supplies with others, and those who stopped to help others in need.

As my pain increased and my pace decreased, a group of guys ran alongside me and encouraged me to keep pushing - "only 1km to go" - they shouted. Like a turn of a switch, I ignored my legs, opened up my stride and increased pace.

I must have looked comical attempting to run with a limping right leg, and was half piqued that it wasn't 1 km to the finish line - it was about 2.5km. But I was thankful for those guys nonetheless - had it not been for them, I wouldn't have pushed myself to sprint to the end, and finished in a decent time, considering all the mishaps and stops during the run.

As I complete my first North Face 50km Duo Trail Race, I learnt that it's not always about winning or running the fastest split, but a humility in loving the sport and building camaraderie between fellow runners to overcome each of our own weaknesses and achieve our personal goals.

Journey to Ironhood II: Week 25

2011-10-13T20:16:00.001+08:00

Week 25: 3-9 Oct

I like staying in hotel rooms, not because of the comfort it offers, but because it is sparse, save for the essentials of a bed, table, hot shower and air con (nope, I don't care much for TV). Hotel rooms are bare and simple, unlike the clutter at home - furnitures, stacks of stuff, piles of items, layers of dust.

I dislike having and owning many things; things frustrate me. They appear as clutter that cramps my world and agitate the spatial part of me. I'd love to give away and dispose of many things that I own. I've even contemplated listing down all the brand new and charming things that I have; tucked away, forgotten and neglected; that I would like to put into hands that have better use of them.

In the same vein, I like triathlons because it takes me away from clutter; from the limitations that plague the mind and body. Triathlons demand so much from the athlete that it leaves little room for attachment to other matters while you're at it - be it during training or on the course on race day. I love waking up in the stillness of the morn at 4am to run or bike, and inflicting pain and discipline onto a tired but keen body, while most people are still fast asleep.

I love long runs where I'm alone by myself, my thoughts and aspirations. Running is my meditation time. I set goals for myself, visualize myself working at it and achieving it, overcoming obstacles and locking the door to can't dos and limitations.

I love long bikes because it takes me far away, speedily, from things that tie me down - the worries of each day, housework that I dread, bills to pay. On my bike, things are simple - I have only one goal - to go as fast for as long as possible and aim to complete 180km in under 6 hours. It takes a lot of me to accomplish that - I haven't quite gotten near, so I'm always chasing the wind and pushing the speed, and in the process, distancing myself even more from anything that I wanna detach myself from. It's the perfect, healthy escape!

I love swimming because it forces me to face my fear of not getting it right and fight the unseen force that limits my ability to swim efficiently and speedily. Of all the 3 disciplines, I perform the least satisfactory in the swim, and even more so, I am determined to hold a tight rein and master my weakness.

In a nutshell, tri-ing demands so much of me I have learnt to live with little, particularly possessions. And because it demands so much of me, it makes me appreciate, even more, things that really matter - my loved ones, family, my Master. The more I tri, the more I'm aware of my mortality, and the need to fully cherish life for its short breath.

Journey to Ironhood II: Week 26

2011-10-03T20:49:00.001+08:00

Week 26: 26 Sep - 2 Oct

Confession:

I tri because it makes me feel heroic. It's a magnificent feeling to be doing what's uncomfortable and painful to the general masses. I'm easily inspired and spurred, and seeing people attempting and accomplishing extraordinary feat on TV or reading about them in books, the news - well, that always leave me with a grinding feeling in my guts that I too, wanna attempt something bigger than myself. Attempting the IronMan with little base training under my belt is my way of spreading my wings and fly when I haven't quite learnt how.

I tri because I hope it would bring me places - so when I travel, it's not just all eating and sight seeing, but seeing the landscape the hard, grueling, challenging and sweaty way - swimming, biking and running. I dislike overt comfort, and the idea of a nice holiday. My idea of a holiday is to earn it - I gotta first sweat it out before I deserve that good meal; and I gotta explore the place not in a cushy vehicle, but in as natural a way as possible - on foot, on two wheels, with no carbon emission...

So back to tri-ing because it makes me feel heroic. Saturday morning saw me running my second ever trail run - an agonizing 29k. I ran my first trail just 3 weeks ago, and was over the moon to find myself accomplishing 21k feeling strong. Now 3 weeks later, I'm not feeling altogether that great. It was painful and I wanted to stop in my tracks over a hundred times. But pride got the better of me, and I kept up with the pace of the group (which was rather fast). I've always considered running as my stronger discipline, and have never quite injured myself on a run. But I did this time round. My legs were hurting all over but I kept pushing on, because I didn't wanna quit on myself.

During training, when the going gets tough and often times I feel like stopping and cutting short my work out, I keep going because that, for me, is mental training - in the real race, the desire to quit would come knocking too many a times. If I don't learn to persist through my agony in training, how would I grit my teeth and bash through the wall on race day? Of course, I have to be careful not to over push myself to the point of injury - it's a fine line between persisting and injuring.

Well, all's good - my legs are fine after a good rub and stretch, and boy, am I excited to train through Week 25!

Journey to Ironhood II: Week 27

2011-09-21T21:59:00.000+08:00

Week 27: 19-25 Sep

A tree cannot grow without first a seed that dies, falls to the ground, and re-planted back into the earth. That, would be a visual parallel to what I'm about to undertake in 27 weeks' time.

Following the misadventure of an Iron pursuit last month in the beautiful, historic city of Regensburg, Germany, and a broken heart quickly nursed back to health by a team of amazingly supportive spouse, family, friends and triathletes, I am back with a vengeance of training and preparing for a redemption race to take place in March 2012... the inaugural IronMan Melbourne Championships.

We never quite stop learning in this lifetime. Some of us never stop TRI-ing. So here I am, laying down my life once again on the line, and undertake to train the best I can, to find myself Down Under on 25 March 2012, amongst some of the best triathletes in the world, for a piece of the Iron pie.

I will, as I did previously, be posting weekly updates on the progress of my training, to share an intimate part of my sporting pursuit with those that care to join me in my adventure by reading and experiencing the thrills and kills, the highs and lows of my second attempt at attaining Ironhood.

Thanks for lending your eyes. Here's pressing on to Melbourne!

Reflections on Germany & London

2011-08-22T21:49:00.027+08:00

Why do we travel? For a number of reasons, one of which is to search for happiness.

Are we happy after our travels?
Sometimes we are, sometimes we're not. Sometimes we're elated at new experiences, sometimes we despair at bad encounters. Sometimes we find the joy contagious, sometimes we find the gloom a threat.

Why else do we travel? To see what's outside our box.

Do we see what we think we're missing? Sometimes.
Sometimes we're enlightened, sometimes we're disillusioned. Sometimes we're grateful for our good fortune, sometimes we envy the better well-being of others.

Why did I travel this time round? To race in IM in Germany and to reconnect with my sister in London.

And what have I learned from this trip? Lots. Below are some brief observations:

Every city has its beauty and flaws. London has its historical charm, but generally appears dark and grey with its old brick buildings and grimy streets. Munich, on the other hand, is covered with vast green farm land, trees, shrubs and the occasional flock of sheep grazing. The countryside of Munich is breathtakingly beautiful, and inspires afresh each time.

Yet, in every place, it ain't so much the physical manifestation of the geography & architecture that attract, but its people and culture that beckon a deep longing and etch a memory deeper than mere images in well-taken photographs.

I've spent too short a time, yet imprinted too deep a memory in both places, simply because of the people I've connected with, many of whom are strangers that turned into friends.

In somewhat a chronological order of my meeting them, here are the wonderful encounters I've had:

(1) A group of middle-aged cyclists from France, touring Germany on mountain bikes and heavy pannier bags. Cyclists in Europe are a dime and a dozen, but this group of French cyclists made an impression because they had very kind and friendly faces - in fact, if I may be permitted to say this without being stoned - I didn't find the Germans too friendly (at least not those I came across), so when a group of men and women in cycling attire and hardy bikes in the middle of a small German city (Regensburg) smiled at me, I smiled back and got a conversation going. In fact, I like them so much we took a photo together and I have one of the men as a friend on Facebook. Ah, the power of social media - connecting people across the globe. Simply awesome.

(2) An Israeli triathlete who has raced in Israman Eilat, ranked among one of the toughest long distance triathlons races, and IM Austria, before attempting his third in IM Regensburg. He did well - clocking just 12 hours in Regensburg.

(3) A French chef with a cheerful disposition who runs an all-day breakfast cafe in Regensburg with his long time friend, a lovely Spanish lady. A special mention of my chef friend, Marc Legras - he cheered me up when I walked into his cafe after completing my 3.8k swim and 180k bike ride, but disqualified from completing my 42k run, totally down and shattered - he sat down at my table with my husband and I, looked me in the eye and said: "It is better to lose a well fought battle than to win an easy one." An ardent rugby player and coach, Marc has an amazingly good heart - he runs a program that takes in children with attention deficit disorder and once a week, provides an outlet for these kids to channel their abundant energy by playing rugby and make some good friends in their team mates.

(4) A group of middle-aged German cyclists who handed me the news sports coverage of IM Regensburg (upon learning of my participation in the race) and posed for my camera on the train platform in Munich.

(5) An elderly woman sitting in an outdoor cafe all by herself at Tegernsee, a lake 46km southwest of Munich. I couldn't help but notice how alone she was, so I turned to her and gestured for her to come join us at our table. Despite her conversing only in German and we in English, we spent a lovely afternoon enjoying coffee, beer and cakes, relying on Google Translator to keep our conversation understandable. Marianne Behn is without kin - her husband has passed away and she has no children. Formerly a waitress, she is now retired and travels to vacation spots on the outskirts of Munich by train and bus. But that's as far as the travelling she has done - she has never flew on a plane before. I wished there and then I could put her on a plane and fly her to a destination of her desire - maybe Singapore, as she has never heard of Singapore until she met us.

(6) An Iraqi marine captain, Saud, on his way home after his job assignment across the Arabian Gulf, whom Jason and I conversed at length with while in transit in Dubai. His first hand account of the messy situation in Iraq and neighbouring Middle Eastern countries are sobering and a reminder to cherish the good and security we have in Singapore.

(7) Most of all, I'm missing the extreme kindness my Sis extended to Jason and I during our stay in her apartment in London - her extravagant hospitality and going the countless extra miles out of her way to ensure we are comfortable in every way. A special mention of thanks too to my brother-in-law who took leave, drove for hours and miles to fetch us from the airport, and forked an expensive city tour in our honor. I don't think I've felt more privileged than having an elder Sis who loves me this much. Indeed, there's no place like home, and no love like that of loved ones. I'm glad I focused my energy and attention at cherishing every single moment with my Sis and her family during our visit, and wish to be reunited sometime in the near future.

What more can I say? I’m just plain thankful for this amazing season in my life where I’ve had the ultimate privilege of preparing for a very tough race in Regensburg, and though I didn’t fare as well as I set my heart and soul to, I gained a lot more from the defeat than an easy victory; I’ve had the richest privilege of visiting Germany and partake of its splendid scenes, people and food and above all, I’ve had the most intimate, quality, bonding time with my dear family in London - I learn what it’s like to give, and give some more, because children make it all worthwhile.

Regensburg 7 Aug 2011

2011-08-11T05:55:00.004+08:00

While riots broke out in London on 7 Aug, the chilly wind, relentless rain and steep bike climbs, plus my initial slow swim, wrecked an awfully painful riot within my system in Regensburg.

I was thoroughly ill prepared for all that lay ahead of me as I stood at the starting line that cold Sunday morning. I was anticipating a 1.45 swim, as I felt strong and good in the water, but came to shore at 2.07.

Onto the bike, I was wrecked physically and mentally by the furiously cold wind and merciless rain; even more so, the steep bike climbs between 10-30k burnt my muscles and killed a little of my spirit with each slow ascend.

No, this wasn't what I envisioned my inaugural IM race to be.

Thus, despite being officially disqualified from continuing the race at the halfway mark of the bike leg at 90k (I missed the cut off time by 10 minutes) I refused to concede defeat and rode the remaining 90k unaided, without any supporters or aid stations along the long, rolling, hilly and lonely course. All I had were tears and the pouring rain for company as I struggled to keep myself going mentally, hoping to make it back to Transition 2 and perhaps my persistence could move the referee to allow me to carry on with my marathon.

The remaining 90k was an intense battle between the discouraged heart that wanted time and again to give up, raise a thumb and hitch a ride from passing vehicles, and a relentless mind that wanted to keep pedaling to Transition 2. The emotional me lost pieces of my heart out there on the bike course.

Unaided and running low on water supply (thankfully I had sufficient energy bars with me), I had to stop strangers on two occasions and asked for water to refill my bottle.

At 150k, with only 30k to go, I was stopped by 2 policemen on motorbikes. My violation - riding despite being officially ruled out of the race. I was asked my name and where I'm from. After some time, I was permitted to go, but not without first being warned that I was out of the race and would not be able to carry on with the run after the bike. I nodded and pedaled off. If I had carried even a flicker of hope of being able to run despite the cut off time, the policemen sealed my fate with an absolute No.

Finally, after having swum 2 hours and rode 8.5 hours, I rolled into Transition 2, surrendered my timing chip and proceeded slowly to collect my belongings.

I would have given anything to run 42k, but realized my disqualification from running doesn't make me a loser; it gave me perspective to learn and grow.

This defeat has taught me more than if it had been an easy day. It was a really tough day, but that didn't kill me. Instead, it toughened me and made me wanna come back stronger to conquer what defeated me once.

But more than that, it taught me that IronMan is not everything... love is. I chanced upon my husband at the finishing line (amongst thousands of people and with no prior arrangement on time), he gave me a hug and I cried in his arms. His love and assurance are steadfast. And with his full support, I'm setting my sight on the next race in the coming months.

So, finally, here's a great big thank you - to all of you - my family, friends, fellow triathletes, training buddies - I thought of you while I was riding, tearing and shivering in the cold. Your encouragement and believe in me kept me going on the course in Regensburg, and will continue to bring me to the finish line in my next race.

3 cheers to my Lord, family, my husband and to all of you - hip hip hooray! ;)

Journey to Ironhood: Week 28

2011-07-24T13:24:00.002+08:00

Week 28 (18-24 Jul):

Turning points in life aren't always earth-stopping miracles. Often, they happen subtlely, and we may even scoff at its prospect. For me, it happened 3 years ago while repeating monotonous 3k laps in the pool (yes, even as a non-competitive athlete, I had so much unchanneled energy I expanded them all in the pool on a daily-weekly basis).

"You should be an IronMan!" the lifeguard at the pool pointed a finger me while I took a quick breather at the end of a lap. I had no idea what an IronMan was, but vaguely recalled it as a super human, unachievable sport, at least not for someone as mediocre as me.

Little did I (or that lifeguard) know, that 3 years later I would be chasing the IronMan and badgering myself to train for 7 months to get to the starting line of an IronMan race.

Oh how very bizarre and how very wonderful the events that color and vary our lives that we can't help but smile to ourselves at miracles that show up on an ordinary day.

With 2 weeks to go to race day (which coincidentally falls on my birthday.. how cool, right??) I thought it appropriate to dedicate my log for this week to the man who had no idea what seed he had planted in a girl's mind when he said "You should be an IronMan". To him, a great big thank you for taking time to wait by the end of the pool for me to finish my splash and utter those magic words.

When I cross the finish line on 7 Aug, I'll make it a point to savor that moment in tribute to you, Mr Lifeguard, for turning words into reality.

Journey to Ironhood: Week 27

2011-07-18T10:32:00.003+08:00

Week 27 (11-17 Jul):

I hate to admit this close to race day, but I'm stretched beyond my means to carry on, and I'm in desperate need of grace.

I've cut down my training by half for the past 2 months and it still hasn't help to get me strong on my feet again.

Sometimes I do it right, but most times I do it wrong by relying on my know-how, strength and resources.

Now with only 3 weeks to go, I'm hanging by a thin thread of faith. At this point I have to stop momentarily and recalibrate all that I am, or I doubt I'll make it well and strong till race day.

Journey to Ironhood: Week 26

2011-07-18T10:02:00.002+08:00

Week 26 (4-10 Jul):

A week of slow recovery from a big time downer from stomach flu last week.

Continued training throughout the week, though at a lesser intensity and volume.

Come Saturday morning, I still wasn't sure if I was fit enough to train with the guys, but decided to take the plunge.

In total, we accomplished a mini triathlon feat: 3.2k swim + 80k bike + 10k run, at a huge struggle though.

Swimming in a full body wetsuit in Singapore's tropical weather drained me substantially. By the time I hoped onto my bike, I was breaking out in cold sweat and in desperate need of food and water.

The bike leg proved a major challenge. Riding conditions were stacked against the 3 of us. Traffic was chaotic, intensified by long stretches of road works along West Coast Highway, and we had to keep absolute focus and a tight grip on our handle bars for fear of being blown off course by the zooming trucks and strong head wind. The guys had to make a number of stops to drink and recover because I was running dangerously low on energy.

Running in the heat proved to be the greatest obstacle, and I contemplated many a times during the one-hour run to stop in my tracks and just give up.

Throughout the entire session, I struggled with self doubt and frustration. Here I was, doing a mini triathlon that is merely a fraction of the actual race distance, and I wasn't feeling like a million bucks, but oh so human and vulnerable against the forces of environment - the traffic, pollution, noise, wind, tiredness, scorching heat.

Now I'm thinking, in nervous anticipation of 7 Aug: Do I? Will I? Can I?

Journey to Ironhood: Week 25

2011-07-05T19:55:00.002+08:00

Week 25 (27 Jun - 3 Jul):

It's fascinating how much of a microcycle the past 7 months have been. I've shot up to the moon, danced on cloud nine, sizzled among stars, and slapped hi-five with the sun.. figuratively speaking, of course. What I meant to say is I've been training hard, enjoyed every session of it, experienced peak performances, and relished in the gratifying reward of intense training and the adrenaline it brought.

Alas, life is a cycle we can't alter its course, and all things that go up must come down.

I have my fair, large share of diving into an empty well, scrapping at the bottom of the barrel, sprawled on a thirsty, dry land, in search for water, nourishment and any form of life. Translate this to my training: I have had a couple of bike crashes, bruised my body from lack of rest, fell terribly ill and subjected myself to my own sanctioned iron prison.

Sometimes I'm confident of getting to my dream, sometimes I doubt my own ability, simply because the journey there has been a tumultuous one.

"Do not be anxious, for the battle belongs not to you, but to the Lord."

That which matters most to you, lift it up and leave it into the hands of someone who won't screw up - your Creator.

So into Your hands, Lord, I commit the remaining 5 weeks.

Journey to Ironhood: Week 24

2011-06-28T09:29:00.006+08:00

Week 24 (20-26 Jun):

I've been asked a lot if my husband mind that I spend many an hour training, away from him and with other men.

So just the other day, after a long 188km bike ride and almost an entire day of absence, I turned to my husband and popped him the question.

With a smile, he shook his head.

Why not, I asked. I mean, the long hours apart, the company of men I keep, etc.

You set my heart at ease, he said.

In other words trust.

Besides, I get to do my own work too, he added.

He's a man of intense focus, and when he works on his projects, he does so unflinchingly.

Your temper has improved too, he concluded.

That came as a surprise. An improved temper with sports? As I thought about it, it made sense.

You see, I've always had trouble channeling my abundant energy to good use.

From the day I learnt to walk, I've been zipping in and out of the house, doing anything and everything perceivable to put my limbs to constructive use. Apart from an extremely varied sporting involvement in school, I frequently found myself at a loss for activities to engage in, sometimes getting into trouble; often times restless and listless.

Thus with a newfound devotion and commitment to a single sporting event that demands all the energy I could offer, my husband saw the good triathlon is doing me, and our marriage. Both he and I could focus our strengths and energy on things that matter to us; projects out of which we derive our greatest fulfillment. And with that, we have lesser opportunities for conflicts and argument, given that whatever time we have between us is valuable.

So there, for the many things I've been blessed with: a great nice big playground in Malaysia to grow up in, many a spanking lessons from my parents for getting into trouble, many a medals and trophies for putting my energy to effective sporting use throughout my schooling years, great and supportive friends and athletes that form a gregarious community to train and laugh with; above all these, I'm blessed with perhaps the largest hearted, most understanding, encouraging, edifying and visionary husband... thank you Larling!!

Journey to Ironhood: Week 23

2011-06-19T11:37:00.013+08:00

Week 23 (13-19 Jun):

First mistake: Riding against the traffic of a one-way street.
Second mistake: Speeding.

With these 2 mistakes set up against me, it was inevitable the obvious happened - an oncoming car approached my speeding bike, and in a state of panic, I squeezed my brakes and crashed to the ground, landing on my back and hitting my head hard against the road.

As I lay on the road, I was more angry than in pain. A second fall in just 3 weeks! How could I be so careless? Why do I keep crashing when I've only weeks to race day?

Questions, questions, questions. I'm not sure what cracked my helmet - the impact of the fall, or the bursting questions in my head.

Soon, help came - my riding friends, the driver and her passengers. I was helped up, my bike laid on the grass next to an ant-infested area, and I was made sure I hadn't broken any bones. All I sustained was some abrasions on my back and elbow.

A trained nurse on the way to a family day event, the driver brought a fully packed first aid kit, and very quickly got round to dressing my wounds. She was so very kind and friendly, I was overwhelmed with gratitude.

Now, what are falls if not to learn lessons from? Here are the lessons learnt:

1. Can any man be an island? No way. We live and grow in a community; we struggle and shrivel alone.

2. Falling makes me human; and realized I am no almighty speeding demon. Not that I attempt to be one, but in my bid to improve my speed and ride faster, I lose the sense of clarity and focus sometimes - and what a price I have to pay for that!

3. Be thankful, always, every time. Our lives are wrapped in a bubble of protection because we have a destiny ahead of us, awaiting fulfillment. I know I am preserved from harm and danger for a cause, a very big cause.

4. IronMan training is more than just physical; it's also mental and emotional. I'm only just beginning to grasp this fact, 7 weeks into race day.

Apart from the agonizing fact that I have to endure long periods away from the family and a familiar weekend routine of breakfast and pockets of quality time, it's absolutely essential to train up a strong mind and heart - sometimes we fumble and tumble, sometimes we crash and burn; but which journey to greatness isn't filled with frequent obstacles and the occasional road blocks?

So, 'nuff said - failure is not fatal; giving up is. With that, I'll keep going, keep training; and keep TRI-ing.

Journey to Ironhood: Week 22

2011-06-14T16:55:00.005+08:00

Week 22 (6-12 Jun):

One of the beauty of training for an IronMan race is that you keep learning... because you're never quite there. Even if you're a pro triathlete, there are always better participants striving to outdo you, other competitors, or simply, themselves.

I'm appreciating this season of being down, down, down. No, I don't mean emotionally, but physically and mentally. I'm in a state of flux. Learning, applying, persevering, striving, overcoming, bettering. Acquiring physical and mental muscles to get me up, up, up for race day. Even then, I can't guarantee that I'll indeed be fully up come August when I stand nervously at the shore of the lake, as I behold over a thousand super fit and ripped triathletes about to lunge into the lake as I would, and battle out our bodies and hearts on the course for some 8-16 hours.

All I can say is, as long as I make it to race day, and stick the course, come what may, whether I cross the finishing line or not, I stand a champ for having worked hard and given my very best.

Journey to Ironhood: Week 21

2011-06-07T16:39:00.004+08:00

Week 21 (30 May - 5 Jun):

What goes up must come down. This applies also to fitness. In sports, it's commonly understood that training + rest = improvement, and while athletes typically train 3 weeks and rest a week, we're expected to bounce back stronger in week 4.

Unfortunately, this isn't the case for me. After a week's hiatus following my fall while riding, my body spiraled into an all-time low. This shouldn't normally happen to one who has been training consistently the past many months, and fitness is not something that is lost overnight, or a week. But it happened alright, and I'm forced to evaluate my training regime. Planning a training regime for maximum results is an art, as any craft that desires to tune something as complex as the human body into precision, conditioning and performance would.

I'm on a continuous learning process. Even after 5 months of training, I still haven't gotten all of my training right. What can I say? I'm a work I'm progress, or more precisely, iron in the making. ;)

Journey to Ironhood: Week 20

2011-05-31T16:11:00.034+08:00

Week 20 (23-29 May):

Ultra hyped up during the week. Swam on Monday despite it being a designated rest day. Ran intervals, stairs and tempo the next 3 consecutive mornings despite it being an unadvisable thing to do - that's too much stress on the leg muscles and insufficient time to recover. Will I ever learn my lesson?

Apparently not, because I was taught another lesson on Sunday. Riding on a flat road at just 30 kph, I was resting my arms comfortably on the aero bars, charting my training regime while smiling to myself at the prospect of increased mileage and training sessions on a week long holiday, when I veered off the road onto the pebbled area by the side and in a desperate attempt to steer my bike back onto the road, I lost control and crashed superman-style, with my hands stretched out front; scrapping my chest, hands and knees as I landed with a great big thud that alarmed my two friends riding ahead of me who quickly turned around to my rescue.

Lying face down in the middle of the road, unable to move with Scotty on top of me, I peered up at two oncoming cars that screeched to a halt. Out came a big man who quickly ran towards me and lifted my bike off me. I got up unattended, relieved that I have not broken any bones, and sustained only superficial injuries.

My two friends quickly sat me down and took care of my injury, washing it with water and fixing my bike, joking and taking pictures of my wounds.

Through this experience, I'm further convinced never to ride alone, because there is safety and rescue in numbers.

But more so, I'm convinced by the value of my friendship with them who takes tremendous care of me at all times, whether I'm at my strongest at the peak of my training or I'm at my weakest, when I crash and tumble.

I'm thankful for men - for the capability and security they provide, and for the responsibility they take upon themselves, to look out and care for friends and fellow triathletes alike.

Motivation leads; determination drives

2011-05-24T07:22:00.006+08:00

Motivation leads me to dream;

determination drives me to strategize an action plan.

Motivation leads me out of bed;

determination drives me out the door.

Motivation leads me to the starting line;

determination drives me to excel.

Motivation leads me to lofty aspirations;

determination drives me to conquer mountains.

Motivation leads me to where I am now;

determination drives me to finish what I set out to do.

To IM Regensburg come August! ;)

24 hours to running your first marathon

2011-05-23T10:50:00.012+08:00

I jotted down these pointers for a friend running the Adidas Sundown Marathon this Sat, 28 May 2011, and thought I'll just open this and share it with anyone preparing to run your first or subsequent marathons. Of course, do take note of the difference in the race starting time - Sundown starts its race at 12 midnight; other races typically start at 5am; so adjust your sleep timings accordingly. Otherwise, all other pointers remain the same.

Basic principle

Our bodies are like cars. In order for a car to travel fast and far, especially to last the distance, it has to be fueled up. Likewise, our bodies need to be fueled up to keep running for a long time. Knowledge of sufficient nutrition and hydration is critical. If we prepare our bodies with this in mind, we'll have no problem completing a seemingly daunting 42km marathon (of course, training is the even more critical component here, but that will be covered separately). So here goes...

Sleep
The Adidas Sundown Marathon begins at Sat midnight/Sun dawn. You need to rest the whole of Sat, enjoy the day, do things that you like, eat well, eat happy, and get sufficient sleep. I know it’s hard, especially when we’re not used to napping, but try to sleep a couple of hours on Sat evening leading up to your race at midnight.

What I did was to sleep from 5-9pm on Sat and get up to make it to the race site by 11pm.

Nutrition
Carbo load on Friday. Eat a little more than you usually do, loading in more carbs – rice, pasta, bread, potato, etc.

Happy breakfast on Sat. Indulge in pancakes, waffles, wholegrain bread, peanut butter toast, etc. Refrain from milk or dairy products as they are likely to make you wanna go to the loo.

Have a hearty lunch – pasta is always a good and a preferred choice by most athletes prior to their race. Pasta is good carbs for a long race.

Have a peanut butter sandwich 2 hours before the race. Or any sandwich you like. Peanut butter is also good carbs.

Take a power gel an hour or half an hour before the race, i.e. 11pm or 11.30pm. Gels usually kick in 15-30mins, depending on individuals. Take the gel to give you that boost to start your first few kilometers of run.

Take a gel every hour. Be religious about this, even if you don't like it. A lot of people dislike taking gel after a few, coz it’s not exactly the tastiest thing in the world, but it is essential to fuel you through the distance and hours.

Make sure you drink sufficient water to wash down each gel you take. Otherwise you might have stomach bloatedness from indigestion of gels.

Water and 100Plus are provided at hydration stations (100Plus at every alternate hydration station). My general advice is to hydrate yourself at every station. Take whatever is offered. If it’s water, drink it. If it’s 100Plus, drink it. If it’s 100Plus plus water, drink both. It’s extremely important to keep your body hydrated during the race – your body is going through a lot of stress and needs to be frequently hydrated. Remember that 100Plus is also extremely important to provide sodium to avoid your muscles from cramping. So if you can only down so much water and have to choose one, between choosing 100Plus and water, always choose 100Plus. You need sodium, otherwise cramps are inevitable. Why? Because your muscles are working extra hard during a long race.

General
Attire, socks & shoes – do not try anything new on race day. Stick to the attire, socks and shoes that you have been wearing while training, or risk abrasion or discomfort which can be magnified manifold on a long run on race day.

Run light – avoid carrying items with you, except your gels. Wear a fuel belt if possible, to carry your gels with you on the run.

Keep a consistent pace - don't go too fast nor too slowly. The key is a sustainable pace to get you to the finish line.

Set mini goals along the way, for example, “I’m going to run to the next street lamp”. Or “I’m gonna overtake this guy in front of me”. Or I’m gonna make it to the turn around point at 21km and increase my pace a little.”

Enjoy every step, even the painful ones. It's a great privilege to run a marathon. You are blessed with a healthy & strong body to undertake this challenge, so enjoy the process.

And finally, come what may, please, please, please do enjoy the run. Run strong, run well, and beat the sunrise! ;)

Journey to Ironhood: Week 19

2011-05-23T08:49:00.003+08:00

Week 19 (16-22 May):

Be ambitious, but also be realistic.

Faith is a strong leader, but she must be carried on the hands and legs of hard work.

Life's journey is one of work (growing up, learning, getting educated, building a career, family, social network) - what makes an IronMan journey any different?

Week 12 has been a week of re-strategizing my training regime for the A-race in Regensburg come August.

An overly ambitious me need to push my body to the limits, while considering my time and commitment limitations, and avoiding the risk of injury.

With extremely experienced and helpful fellow triathletes I have the privilege of calling friends and mentors, I'm ready for the next 11 weeks of focused training and push to Ironhood! ;)

I have... a vision

2011-05-17T15:05:00.002+08:00

I want a vision that I can pursue my entire life; no brakes, no full stops.

I want a vision that I can lay my life on the line for, and having fought a good fight, I stand victorious, satisfied at steps taken closer.

A journey that I relish every moment of, and not desiring the finishing line to come close.

A vision that I wake up excited to every morning, and makes me see life differently - in bright HD colors and 3D intensity.

A vision that so sparkles in my eyes it jumps out at people I talk to and draw their interest and support for mine.

I want a vision equipped with hands and legs to touch many, to give flight to those crippled by their circumstances; a vision that benefits and better others while I move along mine.

I want a vision that keeps my progress in check; one that makes me put one foot in front of the other, and moves me forward every time.

Journey to Ironhood: Week 18

2011-05-16T22:33:00.003+08:00

Week 18 (9-15 May):

What was supposed to have been a 20-week journey to IronMan China has now become a 32-week journey to IronMan Regensburg.

As one plan foils and another emerges, I take steps to put things in place. Yet through this time, new issues arise, particularly my many character flaws.

In my bid to pull out of China and register for a fresh race in Regensburg, Germany, I did so swiftly, brashly and selfishly. I did so, afraid of slots being sold out, and did not first discuss the matter over with my husband. I acted like my life was my own and I wasn't married. My husband, calm and composed, made me see the light and how my single-minded pursuit of the IronMan was potentially affecting our relationship. We ironed this issue out over breakfast, and now sorted, I'm thankful for timely interventions like this that burst my self-inflated bubble and keep me in check every time I dangerously steer out of course.

With 3 months to go till race day on 7 Aug, I'm glad for a longer training time to better prepare myself for this race. I'm ready to give my best shot in the remaining days and bring myself strong both to the starting line and finishing tape.

Journey to Ironhood: Week 17

2011-05-09T09:43:00.008+08:00

Week 17 (2-8 May):

Weak start to just 3 weeks away from the big race in China. Plagued by a sore throat and a body badly in need of rest. Saw a doctor and told to take it easy. Tried to do nothing much but read. No, I don't know how to totally rest and relax. I have to be forced by circumstances to do so. Perhaps it's the kiasu (fear of losing out) and kiasee (fear of losing it altogether) mentally I've grown up with.

A journey to any dream is filled with discoveries, self evaluation and corrections. I realized that I'm measured, not just by my success in one area, but by my ability to balance a wholesome life: family, work, friends, sports, health. For that which I've neglected these past months of intensive training, I'm bearing a burden of guilt towards, and hope to make up progressively.

Realized also that I'm a hardcore Type A, only when it comes to sports. Not so for other necessary traits like a special grace and patience for household chores! I have to contend that we're all created differently. I may have tenacity and discipline in one area, but not the other. But we are brilliant just the way we are.

Rode 162km in Desaru and Singapore on Saturday. Clocked my personal best bike time to-date - glad for that! My last race-pace push. And this much I'm certain - I love the sunny, hot and long stretches in Desaru, and fear for my life with the treacherous traffic in Singapore.

But for now, it's back to rest and more rest. Body's breaking down a little, and I'm forced to listen and take many steps back.

Anxiously looking forward to THE DAY!!

Journey to Ironhood: Week 16

2011-05-05T12:30:00.007+08:00

Week 16 (25 Apr - 1 May):

Mon morning 3am greeted me with a hot flushed body. There was no way I was gonna push myself to run 32k so I sat down, evaluated my condition and decided the best thing to do was to sleep in. I have 4 weeks to go and the best thing I could do for myself was to make sure I'm in tip top health.

Am sleep deprived - truth is, for many weeks now, I haven't

been sleeping well - my mind keeps its engine running even while I'm supposed to be sleeping! Checked my heart rate - below 50 resting heart rate - a good sign that I'm not overtraining.

Tue evening: Disheartened with my lack of progress. Unmotivated. Hit a wall. Slept early at 9.30am. Woke up at 4am on Wednesday and suddenly I was alright. A good rest is all it takes to cure an ailing heart.

May Day weekend: Rode in the cold wind, a painful 180km. If I may be plain honest here - riding over 6 hours on your butt ain't a pleasant thing, no matter how much I love triathlons and biking. I contemplated how my body's gonna hold up and bring me through a full marathon after a 180km ride. I have no idea how - I just have to trust that my training the past 4 months have conditioned my body to perform on race day.

Stayed over in the simple town of Sungai Rengit. No matter where I go, one factor always draws me in - the presence of communities - families fussing over their young children, friends chatting over food and drinks, coffee drinking elderlies, rowdy beer buddies.

Sitting at a table having a cuppa by myself while the rest of the gang were still fast asleep, I watched a young family with 2 kids. This could be another Ironman journey of it's own - except it lasts a lifetime. No, not a bad idea.

And there and then, a smile broke across my face. I was thrilled to be right where I was - watching people, watching lives, watching love among families, watching bonds being built; and being oh so thankful for each moment I live.

Journey to Ironhood: Week 15

2011-05-03T09:00:00.003+08:00

Week 15 (18-24 Apr):

Recovery week. Lots of rest and less of training. Made dinner plans with friends, worked a little later and tried not to think of training. Was fine for a day or two, but came the third day, I felt restless. Or more accurately, distracted. I wasn't training and applying my mind to focus, and my mind spewed various voices that threw me slightly off course. Oh, the danger of not watching and guarding your heart and vision! I had to battle them for a number of days after, and reinstate my vision.

Yet through this week, I learnt an invaluable lesson, and it's one that I've been forewarned countless times by many well-meaning triathletes that have treaded the path before me - in your pursuit of Ironhood, do not neglect the other aspects of life that matter - family, friends, my other interests, etc. Admittedly, I haven't been diligent in ensuring this, and found myself tipped off balance; my emotional and social well sidelined and compromised. The result - a healthy and fit body, but an empty soul.

Thankful for the realization that came in the nick of time, to rescue me from sliding into an abyss of despair and destruction.

Now, with 5 weeks to go, let's rumble (actually, as I'm writing this, I've only 4 weeks to go, as my journal is always a week late - ha!)

Journey to Ironhood: Week 14

2011-04-25T09:24:00.008+08:00

Week 14 (11-17 Apr):

This is an extremely late entry. It's been a whirlwind of a journey, the past many weeks of training and strategizing for the upcoming race in May. I'd love to say I'm well prepared for what's to come, but the truth be told, I'm not.

Am still working out my nutrition plan for the long bike leg. Realised that power gels alone do me no good. Am terrified of them already! Will have to have a combination of gels, sports drinks, biscuits, chewies, sweets, raisins, 100 Plus, Coke... basically anything with high sugar content.

Pushed myself on a 160km bike ride in Desaru last Sunday with a bunch of mostly newly acquainted cyclists. And this is the thrill of this sports - not just new friends, but fit ones! And for those looking for a healthy tan - look no further! Check this out! ;)

Now if I may just take another moment of reflecting on my journey (as I always do), it's remarkably heartening how things work in favor of those in pursuit of their dreams - somehow, generous and sincere people come along to help you get there. It's such a defining aspect of my journey that I find myself repeating my gratitude time and again.

Well, please bear with me, for here I go again: Thank you, to all of you great men and women, in your own ways, who has, and is continually helping me reach my dream.

Journey to Ironhood: Week 13

2011-04-11T19:44:00.010+08:00

Week 13 (4-10 Apr):

I've been eating, sleeping, thinking, dreaming, planning, strategizing, talking, formulating, executing IronMan the past many weeks. Never before have I been so consumed by a single desire that totally takes over the course of my life. While I wouldn't say this is entirely advisable and sustainable; well, certainly not sustainable; I might have finally understood what it means to be 100% focused. And can I say, I love being in the zone, staying in the zone, building my Iron laboratory day by day, week by week.

On a lighter note, here's a list of food I totally dig these past couple of weeks:

Bananas, taken before each workout
Soya milk, a great recovery drink, especially after a strenuous workout
Oranges, a great thirst quencher, especially at night
Bread, my all-time favorite companion
Vege, in huge quantities
Rice, an essential I can't do without, in considerable quantity, or I'll not be able to sustain through the day

It may look like a pathetic list, but seriously, it isn't. I'm happy eating simply, but sufficiently, and keeping myself fueled through the day. It's incredibly gratifying to eat, sleep, train and work the way I do.

Oh, come now week 14!

Journey to Ironhood: Week 12

2011-04-08T21:50:00.003+08:00

Week 12 (28 Mar - 3 Apr):

Push a little further, go a little farther. And that's basically what I do to get from swimming 1km to 4km; running 6km a day to 42km; biking 40km to 180km. Each sporting discipline is a progressive build up of endurance training day after day, week after week, month after month.

I may have just discovered a cure for my restlessness - push myself further!

And certainly it's been nothing short of pure joy and exhilaration than to keep pushing myself to the edge of progress, living on an absolute resolute that sheer focus, relentless discipline and utter faith make the impossible, possible.

Pushing on to week 13 and beyond!

Journey to Ironhood: Week 11

2011-03-31T21:13:00.003+08:00

Week 11 (21-27 Mar):

There are many things I can do without - diamonds, luxury goods, exotic holidays; but one of the few things I can't do without is physical exercise.

But that's exactly what I'm meant to do the week after Aviva 70.3, my first attempt at transforming my flesh into iron (kidding of course - Aviva 70.3 refers to a half IronMan triathlon race).

Forced to refrain from physical exercises to allow my micro tissues torn during the race to heal, I took the backseat of training, allowed indulgence to pilot its course, and guffawed in amusement as I found myself doing things I normally wouldn't (watching 3 movies in a row); eating stuff I usually don't (instant noodles, Cornetto ice cream); and thinking thoughts I usually guard zealously (a half IronMan is strenuous enough... a full IronMan? Twice the gruel, pain & perseverance? Are you sure you're up to it?)

Well, all of life's an experience and though I wished for the speedy departure of the week of rest and recovery, I appreciate the good it does me - reviving my vision and recharging my body for another 9 weeks of battle till May when I step onto Chinese soil for the first time, for the big IM.

Journey to Ironhood: Week 10

2011-03-21T18:56:00.007+08:00

Week 10 (14-20 Mar):

Love makes all things possible. I owe all I accomplish to nothing but love and support from friends and loved ones, my husband and God especially. The amazing experience just yesterday at the Aviva half IronMan is yet another, in what I hope would be a lifetime of greater feats and accomplishments.

I have never been more focused, elated and thrilled than to be on the course, swimming my lungs out against strong currents and getting mercilessly thrashed by thousands of stronger, well trained men and women during the 1.9km swim leg; fixing my gaze on the road ahead as I biked what seemed an endless 90km loop and feeling my heart sink each time I was overtaken by thousands of speeding bikes; and running my heart out in an elusive 21km track that finally saw me tearing as I was just 1km from the finishing point - utterly overwhelmed by His glory, His strength and might that brought me on this incredible journey.

I love endurance sports because it brings me to the core of my being, laying nothing on the race course but my rawest physical ability, mental strength and a total dependence on my Master.

When the hand is set on the plow, there's no turning back. It sets the mind, soul, body and spirit into a propelling motion to achieve greater and greater heights of physical, sporting endurance.

And Aviva 70.3 is just the beginning. As I press on to longer, further distances, may what I do not be a definition of my own dreams and aspirations, but a reflection of what the human body is capable of achieving, when we set our sights above.

Journey to Ironhood: Week 9

2011-03-16T10:03:00.001+08:00

Week 9 (7 - 13 Mar):

Made a final push for a long 121km ride in Desaru despite being unwell. Thankful though, for the good company I was in, who encouraged, rode with me, laughed and joked and dissipated the initial struggle I had with my weak body.

Struggled with a weakened health (attributed to my weeks of rigorous training and insufficient rest) for most part of the week, but always found strength in relentless support and encouragement from fellow triathletes.

With the upcoming Aviva 70.3 race just round the corner, a midpoint of my journey to Ironhood in May, I’m a pretty nervous wreck, I must admit, a thousand thoughts racing through my mind, fighting a mental challenge of completing the race in good form.

Yet through it all, I find tremendous strength in His Word: Having done all, stand.

So stand I will, and trust I will. All’s well. Let’s rumble!

Journey to Ironhood: Week 8

2011-03-07T20:09:00.005+08:00

Week 8 (28 Feb - 6 Mar):

More than anything else, it's time away from the family that training demands. And for that I repent for the long periods away from my husband and family - slow breakfast on weekends, chat sessions over coffee and tea, a stress-free me.

But it's not all sob stories. I thoroughly enjoy wakin up at 4am every other weekday and weekend to train, each and every long ride under the scorching sun in Desaru on weekends; coming home with abrasions and sun rash that last for a week, recovered and to recur again the following week after another ride; but more importantly, getting to know amazing fellow triathletes, many of whom are graciously kind and generous souls.

That said, it's the tenacious human spirit that inspires me each time.

Just yesterday, during an epic 180km ride in Desaru, I came across a couple in their late sixties or even early seventies (judging by the saggy skin and deep-set wrinkles), who strapped large pannier bags onto their touring bikes and were in the midst of their bike tour from Bangkok to Singapore, covering a total distance of over 2,000km. A pair of grandies cycling over 2,000km! I pray my husband and I would embark on such adventures in our old age!

What more can I say? I'm humbled by so many who have gone before me, journeyed the road less travelled, and prevailed only to keep coming back for the challenge of competing in yet another Iron Man, season after season, year after year. Salute! And so here I come, treading after their footsteps.

Journey to Ironhood: Week 7

2011-03-02T21:09:00.005+08:00

Week 7 (21-27 Feb):

As I progress in my journey, I'm meeting more and more fellow triathletes, many of whom are multi-time Iron men, and can I say, they're all extremely nice people. Is it any wonder that doctors encourage sports because it benefits not just our health, but our entire well being? Here are some of the fittest people on the planet, and they're also the kindest and most generous souls around.

I have been a fortunate recipient of their kindness, and I know my dream to Ironhood is not possible by my sole effort, no matter how hard I train; but it's made possible only with the help and support of an entire team of fellow cyclists, former and aspiring Iron men and women who train with me week after week, share their invaluable experiences and resources, sincerely and truly going the extra mile to help me accomplish my dream; and whom I now have the privilege to call as friends.

To all of you amazing triathletes, Dawn Riders, runners, Iron men and women - you know who you are - thank you.

Journey to Ironhood: Week 6

2011-02-23T08:30:00.008+08:00

Week 6 (14-20 Feb):

This week saw me attempting something very silly. I've read about it, been advised against it, yet I turned a deaf ear and did it anyhow. I went on a low carb diet for 2 days. Given the intense and daily training I'm undergoing, it's rather insane to go on a low carbdiet - I'd need all the carbs I can get to fuel my muscles. For every silly decision that you make, you'd have to pay a price for it. I did - my energy level dropped to an all time low; I could hardly walk or stand and needed to lie down to rest because my head was spinning wildly.

I couldn't train for a day and even when I tried to eat, I couldn't take in much. Yet, despite my weak condition, I forced myself to swim the next day, rode 45km the day after and by the third day, I rode 150km from Singapore to Desaru with a group of fellow triathletes, surviving on power gels and chocolate, and lots of adrenaline.

I have since picked up my carb diet, although my appetite hasn't increased dramatically.

All good for now and pressing on to Week 7!

Journey to Ironhood: Week 5

2011-02-14T09:13:00.005+08:00

Week 5 (7-13 Feb):

In all your getting, get wisdom. In all your training, get efficient. And undergird them all with sustainability. That, in essence, is a major lesson learnt in week 5.

To put it simply, here's how I build up my training; in fact, this model undergirds every other aspect of my life, including work and personal life.

It's hard to stop learning, when the more we learn, the more we realize how little we know. So as I progress in my training, I'm acquiring life's lesson to better myself not just physically, but wholly.

Journey to Ironhood: Week 4

2011-02-05T09:23:00.007+08:00

Week 4 (31 Jan - 6 Feb):

It's hard for a type A personality to slow down, and this scheduled week of rest and recovery has been a trying one!

As I'm writing this now, the sun is shining brightly outside, and I'm fighting the urge and a hundred good reasons why I should be out swimming. I literally have to turn away from the window and quell the desire to pack my swimming gear and head out the door. Because relationships with people are just as important, if not more important. This IronMan may be a significant event to me, but I wouldn't have been able to push through the strict training regime if not for loved ones who built a nest of warmth and support around me, to enable me to train, guilt free.

So this week is dedicated to them - first and foremost, my husband; and secondly, my parents in law - sorry for all the mornings I couldn't have breakfast with you guys because I was out training! And larling, let's head out for coffee later! ;)

Clothes maketh a man; humanity maketh a society

2011-01-31T09:27:00.007+08:00

Where in the past families were poorer, hand-me-down clothes were treasured possessions fought for by siblings; in these modern days where new and fancy clothes are easily affordable, second-hand clothes are looked upon with disdain and to be quickly discarded.

I wonder if this speaks true only in better-to-do economies. What about under developed countries where basic necessities are still lacking?

It's so easy to replace convenience with economic wastage.

Or perhaps it's not economical to transport old clothes to under developed countries.

So why are we fixated with having everything new? Why the fixation with gloss and shine? Why do aesthetics appeal so much to the human eyes?

Our practices are a culmination of our cultural environment. Singapore, a small nation run on human resources and break neck speed progress, fixes her gaze at only one thing - to get ahead of all competition and be nothing but the best. It's people, regardless of citizens or foreign workers of the economy; are likewise, conditioned to be single minded in the pursuit for greatness; in the process of which, it is inevitable that secondary things get sidelined. Secondary things which are often values that make us human; values that are found only in the species called man. Values like compassion, humanity and kindred spirit.

Consider China. In its desperate attempt to grow exponentially to make up for the years of closed economy and catch up with the superpowers of the world today, how often do we read of unscrupulous acts of officials and businesses that strove for economic gains at the expense of general health, safety and compassion? To picture this graphically, imagine a sprinter that rudely shoves off his screaming and adoring fans lined at the side of the track, within touching distance of him, who clamors and tries to get a hold of him; the sprinter doesn't look back once. He surges on ahead and even if he has to trample on a member of the crowd that has fallen into his track, he will not stop, but continues sprinting forward - he cannot stop, because time will not stop for him. Such is China, India, and dare I say, our nation, if we lose sight and emphasis of our humanity.

Journey to Ironhood: Week 3

2011-01-30T09:21:00.004+08:00

Week 3 (24-30 Jan):

Started the week on a high - barely slept for 2 hours, woke up at 4am and ran 14km. Fueling up more on fruits & vege these days. Added tomatoes to my list of new best friends. The small and crunchy ones. They fight anti-oxidants which abound in an athlete's body. Brilliant!

Just got started on interval (run) workouts. Intervals aren't exactly fun - they drive you like a slave master, and you often feel like bailing out, but if you stick your guns, you'll be thankful when you see marked improvement. Learning to recognize and appreciate good teachers, like intervals.

Enjoying long Saturday rides with my speedster friends, only to find myself pretty worn out and napping for an hour or two after. Like a hyper child made to nap and recharge - ha!

Journey to Ironhood: Week 2

2011-01-23T10:14:00.004+08:00

Week 2 (17-23 Jan):

Body is beginning to feel sore and stiff. Occasional headaches. At work, things are picking up pace, so longer hours at work plus intensive training is draining me a little. Keeping myself happy by eating well. Eating averagely 5 smaller meals now. Bread and oranges are my new best friends.

Sustained a fall in the bathroom on Thursday after my bike ride (a sign that I'm lacking rest - currently sleeping averagely 4.5 hours each night). Thankful that accidents happen at home, not on the roads.

Caught a flu on the last day of week 2 - didn't manage to run and swim as planned. Can't wait to be back on track... looking forward to week 3!

Hard worker

2011-01-21T08:34:00.007+08:00

Looking at her, I'm sure she will get somewhere someday. She may just be working in a bread shop toasting bread and serving them, but she does them brilliantly fast and well. I'm intrigued, watching her intent focus and speed on the job. A seemingly menial and low paying job to most of the office-working patrons in the financial line in this area, she may look insignificant, but her excellence in her work far outshines the mediocrity of it all.

Her name is Joyce (she wears a name tag), and she works at Toast Box at Plaza Singapura. Do drop by for breakfast if you're in the vicinity in the mornings, and tell me if you notice the most outstanding worker of them all in the shop.

Journey to Ironhood: Week 1

2011-01-19T21:22:00.006+08:00

This is the first of 20 weekly updates from now till May 29, the day of my IronMan race in Tianjin, China. Am keeping a journal to share my experience in this arduous journey to Ironhood... stay with me! ;)

Week 1 (10-16 Jan):

All good - week 1 went very well. Very excited and had to resist the urge to clock above and beyond the planned mileage. Only slack was my Sat 90k ride - woke up 45mins past 4am and only managed to ride 60k with the Dawn Riders. That's how much you lose in an hour - 30k. Wow.

A Literary Love Affair

2010-11-25T09:06:00.005+08:00

We live in a sea of resources that doesn't quite run out, no matter what economics tell us. There is always alternatives, and ways to make things work good, if not better. There was abundant oil reserves, it runs out, no problem, we research and discover alternative sources of renewable energy.

Likewise, books. They don't run out. We are a fortunate generation living in an advance age of unprecedented technology and communication and never found wanting of media resources.

I always cherish good books like I do a precious, new found treasure, and as much as I relish every word read, I dread every page turned, because that spells the end approaching. As I bask on cloud nine each time with a terrific book, I fall into bouts of despair at the end of each read. I'd caress the book gently, re-reading the cover page and back credits, and skimp through the folded pages which bear lines and sentences that I favor much. After a day or two, I reluctantly drag my feet to the local library and watch the bookdrop swallow my friend whole. The vicious cycle doesn't end there. I'd mull about aimlessly, like a ship without anchor, lost in a sea of restlessly, until I start running and listening to podcasts on books and authors and make a mental note of titles that piqué my interest. I'd hunt the title down on the library online catalogue, find the book and reserve to pick it up; or if it's dead urgent, where I gotta have the book instantly as if my life depended on it, I'd make a special trip to the library during my one-hour lunch break, never mind the rush, and march triumphantly out of the library, with my new book-bride in hand.

Yes, I'm eccentric, and I make no apologies for my frequent, short-lived, literary love affair. If anything, my husband wholly supports it.

Running places

2010-11-08T08:56:00.002+08:00

Maybe, deep down, I feel that running might bring me places - across the Great Wall, the Gobi, the Sahara, the Copper Canyons. Maybe, just maybe. And that dream fuels my running everyday.

I'd always wanted to travel; to experience cross cultures. When a lack of finances deprived me from studying in Australia after high school, I held on to a dream that I would visit Australia still - somehow, though I didn't know how then. And sure enough I did, albeit 10 years later, on my honeymoon.

That's just one small example of how my achievements in life don't usually take the typical route, mostly due to financial depravation, but God is mightier than both my internal and external limitations. He has been gracious all these while; and even more so with each passing day. He makes me stronger as I wait, and eventually manifests His multi faceted way of doing things. Indeed, He's never late; He's right on time.

Of course, I haven't quite gotten acquainted to His timetable. Maybe that's because I like to know what and when to expect; while He's more relaxed than I am and unfazed by how desperate or impatient I am. He's cool while I'm not - I'm hot headed and am always wanting to get ahead of myself. It's time I trust Him a little more with my aspirations. Or much more. Or entirely. Because I'm sure what He has in store for me's gonna blow my mind. Simply because He's big and I'm in His plans.

Running for You

2010-10-31T19:52:00.005+08:00

When I run, I feel You near; I feel Your joy.

I am free to be who You've created me to be; to pursue my dreams and passions and use them for Your glory. There aren't fixed set rules on how I can glorify You with my pursuits; I listen to the still small voice and pulsing heartbeat that rhyme with peace.

I am not mediocre and will not remain so. I am built for success, great things and much more than I'd ever imagine myself accomplishing. I run to begin the journey of discipline and pursuit that You've placed in my life.

Something marvelous happens each time I run - I end each run feeling bigger on the inside than when I began. My spirit grows bigger and bigger; my dreams higher and higher and my reach wider and wider.

I experience internal transformation I've never experienced before, and the intensity of such encounters heighten with each struggled morning run. It's as if the greater the resistance to run each morning, and the overcoming act of running still; no matter how painful, unfulfiling or unsatisfactory my performance may be; I develop internal muscles of discipline, tenacity, grit and can-do.

What Teddy taught me

2010-08-30T20:55:00.003+08:00

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory or defeat.

-Theodore Roosevelt

Running Prayer

2010-08-25T09:34:00.001+08:00

It’s a great pleasure to be able to run like I do - to have the support of my husband and in-laws in the pursuit of my fitness and running goals; to sleep by 10 each weekday night and wake by 5 in the morning; to still wake up by 5am on weekends for longer, harder trainings, despite sleeping later on weekend nights, simply because lingering in bed past sunrise irks and frustrates me so.

Thank You Lord, for peace and security in this country that enable me to run early and safely everyday.

Till the day I outrun this tiny island-state from end to end, bring me to bigger pastures and more magnificent landscapes to begin a fresh journey of running and exploring the beauty of Your creation.

Let me never stop running, and may I add, cycling and swimming. Let me never stop, but with every breath of life, let this human body never be limited.

Bigger, better, higher

2010-07-19T09:07:00.006+08:00

I need something visual in my life, something that will remind me everyday of the gift of life that I've been generously dealt with. And that is why I write - to draw remembrance and gratitude for all I have, scars from points I've fallen and lessons learnt from them.

Love is the foundation from which dreams are built and visions take flight.

My God, being the magnificent Father that He is, decided that not only would He give me the best possible man to live an amazingly great, fulfilling and rich life; but also incredible support from his parents who love me like their own. With this enclave of an existence of life and destiny (from my God) and this rock solid foundation of love (from my husband and in laws), it has become impossible for me to live nonchalantly, not taking stock of what I do with my time, gifts, talents and abilities.

Discontent at non-progress rattles within my bones. I work, with a vision of expansion. I run, with a vision of position. I give, with a vision of mission. I live, simply with a vision of Him - and as long as I do, I keep dreaming bigger and stepping onto higher plains.

His legacy

2010-06-24T09:50:00.004+08:00

As I sat sipping my coffee and munching my toast, with a pen in hand to write my usual morning reflections, I saw a middle-aged father walking in with his teenage daughter. He was dressed simply in a grey collared tee and dark blue berms, carrying a black backpack slung over one shoulder. She was in a bright pink top and white shorts. He ordered breakfast for his daughter and himself, and repeatedly turned over to check that he had ordered sufficient food - he wanted to ensure she had enough to eat. She had rice, while he merely had bread and coffee. They ate mostly silently, except for a few exchanges of animatedly-spoken Indonesian conversation.

The sight of them reminds me of my dad, and created a wishful longing for quality time and intimacy which has been missing from my life for over 10 years.

As I thought of him, I'm puzzled myself that I did not long for a similar intimacy with my mom. Though she played the crucial role of sacrifice in the family (my only recollection of her is just that - lots of hard work and sacrifice), there was almost no exhibit of intimacy, support and encouragement; no providence of knowledge and recreational fun. She was constantly labouring away, making sure there was money for household expenses, the children's education, and savings. There was never a moment of indulgence or luxury. Everything was spoken in terms of money saved. Growing up, she never told me she loved me, was proud of me and never indicated the need to spend time with me, to bond with me.

My dad, on the other hand, though an extremely hard, stern and ready-to-punish man, gave me what every child needed - love, support, encouragement, knowledge and recreation. His declaration of love and demonstration of fatherhood was never conventional - while maintaining a stoic and practical demeanour (at all times - he has never let up or changed, all through the years), he supported me in my love for language; brought me books (from relatives, having not enough money to buy them); encouraged me to read and write extensively; was a strict teacher at home to ensure my good grades; made me read the newspaper and watch the news at nine every night; prohibited me from watching drama serials which to him were a complete waste of time and uneducational; played with me; encouraged me to play with kids in the neighbourhood, saying all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy; brought me and my friends to places adults wouldn't usually bring their kids to - abandoned houses with drug addicts, seedy back lanes of red light districts - in an effort to teach me 'general knowledge' and expose me to the 'real' world.

For all of that, I am very grateful. He was very real, very human. He never tried too hard to become anything he wasn’t. And when I say he was a hard man, he really was. And still is. For all the fond memories he brought me, so many more were painful, for I endured excruciating beatings for my disobedient ways and constant rebellion. My sister was often privy to the display of my bloody wounds, now healed with time.

How very often I've tried to write about my mom, a woman far virtuous and gracious above any other I’ve known, but I have ended up writing about my dad instead. This is yet another instance, a true account of my life, even as I'm still searching for the right words to pen them all down and do justice to those whom I’ve not credited enough.

Innocence lost

2010-06-22T22:48:00.004+08:00

It's disquieting, this stew of fondness stirred in regret

The sidelong glance
The shy curves of a smile
The gentle moves of the limbs
The high regard of a trusting heart
The complete yield to a restless brute

Oh the tragedy of innocence lost

This Call

2010-06-11T19:22:00.003+08:00

It's been far too long now that my voice has been shut up within my bones, without a drop of ink to etch these words into permanence.

Today I hear a knocking on my door. No, it isn't so much a knocking as it is a persistent rapping; almost rude sounding, for it grows impatient everytime I ignore it. What you are born with will never let you go. It wraps its arms firmly around your heart, mind and soul - embracing your perfections and imperfections, and simply stands in its place throughout your lifetime, without so much as move an inch or yard. It is a reflection of the Creator's faithfulness to you - the calling is irrevocable.

Today I hear Him, open the door and sit down to write.

Creatures of comfort

2010-04-08T09:05:00.002+08:00

It's easier to be served than to serve. My eating breakfast at Macs most weekday mornings serve to confirm that. I could jolly well prepare my own breakfast of fragrant toast, wholesome oat and hot coffee, at very little cost, but no, I'd rather fork out a substantially steeper price for instant breakfast not even specially prepared for me like French cuisine usually is, but mass produced by retirees and students earning less money per hour than the cost of my ultra unhealthy n innutritious breakfast set.

This morning I was resisting the urge to buy a cup of cappuccino but bought it anyhow to prove a point to myself – that men (and by that I mean women as well) are creatures of comfort – we'd rather be served than serve. Unlike animals, whose primary instincts are survival, which includes hunting, preying and evading attack – they are creatures of service.

Yet to serve, to work, is an absolutely essential tool for survival in a highly competitive and rapidly progressing world. Which brings me to this point – much as we yearn for comfort, we weren't created for such. We are created for work, as animals and plants are. The need for comfort and relaxation comes as a reward for our hard work, not a natural given. In short, we should strive to serve, to work hard, and after all these, enjoy the fruits of our labor in moderate proportions. Then, and only then, will we be fulfilled as creatures of both service and comfort.

Covenant Song

2010-04-06T09:26:00.005+08:00

Lord give me one heart & one way

That I may fear You forever

That all may go well for me and my children

Make an everlasting covenant with me

That You will not turn away from me

Nor will You withhold good things from me

Put Your fear in my heart

That I will not depart from You

Yes, rejoice over me

Pour Your blessings over me

Plant me in this land, in Your house

Forevermore

adapted from Jer 32:39-41

Step into the sunshine

2010-03-24T09:04:00.006+08:00

Today I sit at Macs and take in the cacophony of sounds, especially the high decibel of chatter from secondary kids. What on earth are they doing here in the mall so early in the morning, invading the audio space of working adults preparing to get to work? Don't they have school?

It's too stark not to notice the gregarious bubbles of the youth, compared to the stoned, cold pillars of the adults, mulling over work while chewing on their sausage mcmuffins and sipping hot coffee.

Ah, the weight of the world carried on the shoulders of adults!

Have we grown from enthusiasm to sobriety?

What we lack, we desire.

What we desire, we envy in others.

How do we stop this vicious cycle?

Break the ice that locks you in a segregated and cold world, and step into the sunshine.

Welcome to a better, happier world.

The Book of Eli

2010-03-21T19:30:00.005+08:00

When was the last I watched a movie that significantly affected my mental & spiritual disposition? I can't remember, but I did today. The Book of Eli shakes the core of my beliefs in what I have been living by since the day I was born - my faith and walk with Christ.

The Book of Eli invokes a renewed love and reverence for the precious Word of God, an abiding guide to this walk of life and a very present help in times of need.

He is the voice that leads me on a journey of faith, my protector, my shield from harm, my deliverer. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for He is with me - He never leaves nor forsakes me. He neither sleeps nor slumbers, He is my constant victor. In Him will I trust, from this day till journey's end.

Running for Fitness

2010-02-07T22:51:00.002+08:00

For those of who have always wanted to start running for fitness (having read or heard that running burns the most calories in the shortest amount of time - yes, you've read and heard right) but lack the willpower to, here is a piece of practical tip on running that I shared with a friend recently. Read on for bite-size, manageable pointers to help you run consistently every week...

Here are some things I started out with, which you could replicate, but do tailor according to your own needs, ability and schedule.

Are you a day or night person? When are you at your best? You could start by running in the morning before you start school/work. Which means you have to get up an hour earlier than your usual time (tell yourself it’s not so bad; it’s just an hour – I can do it!).

Start by running 20mins 3 times a week, for a month.

By the second month, increase to 25mins, and if possible, run 4 times a week.

As much as you are able to push yourself, do push yourself to go further and longer, and more often. But don’t push yourself too much too quickly, or you might tire yourself out and stop running altogether.

Always remember “sustainability”. You have to develop a running regime for yourself that you can sustain for a long time, and not burn out too quickly. If 25mins 3 times a week is sustainable for you, then do that. As you progress through the months, and your body and muscles get accustomed to a regular running regime, you’ll want to, and good news, you’ll be able to run further and longer.

And on and on it goes. Before long, you’ll be running distances you never think you could run before. It took me a year and a half to be able to run 10km daily. So no hurry, be stern, yet, gentle on your body. It’ll take you places. Most importantly, have fun running! Put on a smile and watch how your smile brightens up someone else's day! ;)

She runs

2010-01-26T17:57:00.002+08:00

She runs on the soft green grass and falls. Rolling on its soft and moist cushion from the morning dew, she closes her eyes and dreams of lovely days now tucked far away in the crevices of time. When love and laughter filled her home. When dad and mom would talk about bringing her on holidays to beautiful places. When her sister would cook her favourite chips in tomato sauce, burning herself occasionally from the hot oil jumping on her arms from out of the old, worn wok. When she would play with her friends in the neighbourhood chasing down cats and burning their hiding holes.

She was rid of such joy the day her dad left home and her mom called, weeping.

Khon Kaen, Northern Thailand

2009-12-14T19:06:00.004+08:00

City

Khon Kaen is characterized by its many big and narrow streets winding through every possible corner of the city; bright colored vehicles; squiggly-charactered signboards hanging on run down, grim-looking shophouses; roadside peddlers selling all sorts of grilled and smoked meat including pork, beef and chicken; wandering stray dogs of various breeds and colors; and many a big-trucker 4WDs, amongst other vehicles mostly of Toyota make.

We for one, drove a rented 3-litre Toyota Fortuner for the 8 days that we were there. My friend, Andre, who's been to Khon Kaen annually for the past 7 years, drove us throughout our trip. He is a display of aggression on the road – he had to, else our 4WD would hardly move an inch amidst a flurry of big and small vehicles, motorbikes, pedestrians, stray dogs, narrow roads and bad traffic.

People

More importantly, the largest city in Northeastern Thailand is characterized by its extremely warm, gentle and humble people.

In fact, if humility has a face, the Thais in Khon Kaen wear it well. I believe I have never encountered a culture more subservient than the Thais in Khon Kaen (I can't speak the same for Thais in other cities including Bangkok and Udon Thani). They have need for little extravagance. It is common sight for peddlers to bring their children with them everywhere they go – putting little ones to sleep on dirty rags of mattresses next to their mobile stalls.

Accommodation

Our accommodation at Tonwa Resort is every bit a natural experience. A mere 5 mins drive from the city centre, Tonwa Resort is set amidst a village – I'd wake up in the mornings to the sound of sparrows chirping, open the door to my room balcony and breathe in the fresh cool December breeze.

Running

After a quick gulp of milk, I'd run the streets of Khon Kaen, attracting many a puzzled looks from the locals. Despite an international marathon held every year in the city which draws runners from all over the world, Khon Kaen has very few tourists. In fact, for the 8 days that I was there, I saw no more than 5 foreigners in the city.

As I ran, I was greeted by the sights and smells of a city deeply rooted in humility. Monks walked bare-footed on the grease stained roads, and on several occasions, I saw locals bowing down low on the ground at the feet of a monk as he chanted a prayer of blessing before making his way to collect more alms. Stray dogs are everywhere in the city – they roam every big and small streets. I was barked and chased by a dog once, ran into a nearby shop, asked the shop owner to walk me down the street and learnt not to run when I see a dog, but to walk on slowly.

Children

We attended a local church service conducted in Thai on Sunday morning, and though I did not understand the language, I closed my eyes and took in the presence of God, and wept at one point when we sang 'Amazing Grace'. Next to the church is Khon Kaen Christian School whose students are a lively bunch of friendly and gregarious boys and girls.

On the third day, we painted the fence wall of the Gerald Khoo Harvest Family Centre, a Christian foundation that reaches out to children in the slum areas adjacent to railroad tracks – providing love, care, shelter, protection and education for the children. I grew acquainted to a mischievous boy named Fhuc. He warmed up to us easily and by the next day when we visited the school, he leapt when he saw my husband Jason, ran towards him and hugged him tightly. I was surprised by the expression of affection from a young Thai boy, and took a deeper liking for this boy whom I have affectionately come to call 'my Thai son'.

Apart from Fhuc, I came to know many other boys and girls in the school who readily smiled and posed for my camera – a sign of openness to a stranger who doesn't speak their language. I wish to return to Khon Kaen again – simply for them.

Moral degradation

Each passing day makes me more welcomed and at home in Khon Kaen, until I learned of a secret that lurks behind the city door – a tale of moral and sexual degradation. A majority of married men in the city has; besides their wives, children, homes and businesses; young teen lovers who are either still in school or dropped out of school as soon as they could in order to earn quick, extra bucks in the sex trade.

In a city where the monthly income of a lower class household does not exceed SGD$300, it is extremely tempting for these young girls to exchange their morality for comfort, especially when they may not be educated on the gift and preciousness of their femininity.

Tales of little girls left to be taken care of by grandparents while their parents are at work, and male neighbours who offer the grandparents alcohol in order to intoxicate them so that these men could rape the girls – are common.

My heart bleeds at the knowledge of such rampant immorality that rages through the city. I may not have been long in the city, but the atrocity against women and the spiritual oppression of lust and greed in the city are real – and in dire need of help and salvation.

I have been privy to the land, people and culture – and I carry now a burden for its soul.

A learning journey

2009-10-28T16:51:00.001+08:00

I'm headlong into my work, loving every bit of it, but something within me halts sometimes, starts to shrink a little and feels a little intimated by an exciting world I know very little about, one that I'm very much on a journey of discovery, a step at a time.

Why this pit stop - I'm not sure. Maybe it's the better of me doing a self-check: have I the necessary traits to soak in this learning experience? Have I humility? Openness to instruction and correction? Because without these traits, each step I take will either lead me down or back to the starting point.

Thus I realise: the more I learn, the more there is to know. The wheel never stops spinning - the learning never stops. And humility is key to lifelong learning and progress.

She is gone

2009-10-12T21:26:00.002+08:00

She is gone and I have not lend her a hand or an ear, when I could have.

She is gone and I don't know what to feel - I have done absolutely nothing within my capacity to bring joy and love to her, when I could have.

She is gone and I wonder if I have done the biggest wrong by not reaching out to her, when I could have.

She is gone and I don't know whether to scream & cry, or cower and hide, disgraced at my inaction all these years.

She is gone and my heart is torn.

Related entry: Called Out of the Dark

Pain of abandonment

2009-10-09T22:18:00.003+08:00

There is a pain that hurts deeper than physical affliction - it is a pain that transcends and numbs all physical, emotional and spiritual senses - it is the pain of abandonment.

For a long time now I have been thinking of him, and penning a thousand words in his honour. I write stories upon stories of his undeniable strong influences in my life; angry now that I will not be able to publish those stories because he is no longer the same character as that in my stories. This new character is one debauched; now far removed from the rightful image of one who bears, raises and loves his offspring.

Darkness engulfs, sparing none who strays in its path, not even the foolish, or seemingly ignorant man. This foolish man strays onto the path of darkness and finds himself walking with the light behind him; with each step, his shadow is further and further removed till darkness swallows him whole.

I watch him and let him go. Maybe he has never held me close.

I recline to the corner of my soul, close my eyes and wish that this is but a solstice, that even this will pass, and the sun will move from its spot and shine again.

Kuching

2009-08-13T14:38:00.002+08:00

A land of excesses - vast land, abundant food, welcoming hospitality, bountiful sunlight and sweltering heat. A city with expansive land sparsely populated - 3 times the land size of Singapore but less than 5 times the population size of Singapore - imagine, some 1,863 square kilometres inhabited by just under 600,000 people! Kuching, capital city of Sarawak, the biggest state in Malaysia.

The weather averaged an unbearable 38 degrees for the five full days I was there. What made it bearable however was; besides my husband, the 14 middle-aged men and women that make up the entire tour group I travelled with. It had been a great joy, being a part of this bigger family of generous and fun-loving aunties and uncles. There was never an awkward moment watching them. Away from the usual humdrum of family life and children, they were like kids on vacation. I saw them goofing around, laughing out loud without a care in the world, jesting and teasing each other as kids on a school excursion do. In fact, I so enjoyed my time with them I dreaded the last day as we departed from Kuching for Singapore. Onboard the plane, watching them steadily falling asleep one after another, I felt a pang of sadness, akin to those moments leading up to a farewell fanfare between tearful family members at airports.

In every place that I visit, my happiest moments are brought about by cultural exchanges with its natives. I observed that women open wider doors to cultural experiences than men. Natives of a place are friendlier and more willing to share of their lives and experiences to a woman visitor. Kuching is a land of warm people and wide smiles. I spoke to many local men on various occasions, engaging them in their native tongue (Malay) and was warmly received because I spoke and sounded like them. I even look like them, given my tan complexion. I found out about their families, struggles, grips with their vocations, the city, the country.

A man I engaged in a conversation with at Sarawak Cultural Village left a deep impression in me. A good-looking middle-aged Orang Ulu (a native tribe of Sarawak), he carried a sorry tale behind his friendly demeanour. He allowed me to photograph only the top of his head, without revealing his face, and in between our conversation, I found that his wife died at child birth. He never remarried, but raised a daughter now 26 years old. I admire his strength, for I cannot imagine raising a child all by myself without a soul mate.

In many places, rivers are an important source of life to its residents and a source of fascination to tourists. The Kuching River is no different. For just RM30, Jason and I relished a slow cruise along the river onboard a small, dingy, wooden boat half-rowed and half-run on motor by an elderly Malay man well into his 60s. The trip up and down the murky river, observing many a local and simple life of its Malay natives evokes a sense of tranquility unlike that found in a bustling city life. We chanced upon a welcoming sight of 4 boys playing at the shallow end of the river, stark naked.

We captured many a splendid scenes of and around the river and breathed in the simplicity of a people so humble it beckons a reflection on my part as to what I value as important. To me, constant progress is essential - thus my love for a city life. To these river folks, a day's wage and a close-knit family are sufficient. As a visitor to this beautiful land, I'm glad they retained this laid-back pace because every once in a while, we need a secluded place of refuge. For me, I found it this time round in the sleepy town of Kuching, though many a times I think I make a lousy tourist because I bring my city experiences to a quiet town and wonder what its natives do to occupy and humour themselves; and, silently, pity them. Maybe, similarly, unbeknown to me, they pity me, for my surrealism.

One of the best ways to explore a city is to run through it - navigating its nooks n corners, eating places, retail stores, mechanical repair shops, dogs guarding many an industrial area. Running in Kuching must be a rare affair. I ran and attracted many a surprised and often second look by the locals, especially men, who nudge their fellow counterparts to look upon a stranger striding down the not-so-well paved streets, under a scorching sun and trapped humid heat, perspiring profusely, hair a wild mess and eyes scanning the vicinity and observing the everyday life of its inhabitants.

The beauty of a place lies not just in its landscape, but in its people. Kuching may not offer the glitz and glamour of a modern city life, but it has certainly charmed me (and I believe many others) with its simplicity, hospitality and alluring Sarawak laksa.

Why I Run

2009-08-01T11:52:00.002+08:00

Recently I have been asked by quite a number of friends: why do I run so much and for so long? And how do I find so much time to read? Here's why and how.

I started running a year ago when I was desperately bored with my previous job and needed something to perk me up in the morning. I'd wake up at 5.00am in the morning and run before work.

It was grueling, waking up early, and worse, I didn't enjoy running. So I started filling up the agony of running by listening to podcasts.

I did not enjoy running for one full year. It wasn't until sometime this year that I began enjoying it. What's more, I discovered a book titled "Born to Run" by Christopher McDougall (introduced on a book podcast I was listening to then). Reading (or rather, listening to the audiobook version) further fueled my passion for running. I ran longer and faster while reading/listening the book - I was thoroughly inspired! It is a fantastic read, even if you are a non runner - the coverage on history, culture, anatomy and ultra running is amazing.

So, how do I find time to read? I don't read physical books as much as I listen to audiobooks, while traveling in the mrt and while running in the mornings. That's easily 3 hours (2 hours traveling to & fro, and 1 hour of running).

And why do I run? Because it totally disciplines me. It disciplines me to wake up early in the morning, ignoring my tired body, not lazing in bed but heading straight for the door, enduring an hour long run; and at the same time, I'd pray, meditate, and gain a whole world of knowledge by listening to podcasts & audiobooks.

The benefits are simply too much for me not to run.

I breakthrough

2009-07-17T18:28:00.000+08:00

I have been trained to be independent from a very young age. I learnt to stand up for myself and deal with situations when I was bullied, sad and down.

I was constantly blamed, accused and judged.

Even as I write now, I write each line beginning with “I”.

Because that was how I was taught.

Thus in their times of need now, I recoil from them. I don’t know how to reach out and sympathise.

Can I be blamed? No and yes.

No, because I am a product of my upbringing.

Yes, because I am a new creation in Christ. The old things have passed, behold, He makes all things new.

I need not be a victim of my circumstances.

I cannot control the events that shaped my life, but I can choose not to be reduced by them.

Therefore I choose to take steps towards them, to embrace them, and to love them.

I am certain that this is the only right thing to do.

Short Story: Called Out of the Dark

2009-06-17T13:23:00.005+08:00

She huddled in the corner of the room. Her small hands clutched her ears tightly, shutting off the berating in the living room and the monstrous sounds in her head that cursed the miserable life she did not choose to be living. The air in her lungs could not flow in and out properly and her lungs clamped in on her fast beating heart. Her vision narrowed to nothing more than a deep black tunnel that stretched to the end. She was so afraid; she shut her eyes so tightly she could see red through her eyeballs. The unnerving trauma cast a shadow over her life and terror gripped her soul. She felt everything around her caving in on her and wished for death to consume her right there and then.

“Take this wretched life away from me!” she yelled at the top of her voice, and collapsed into a motionless lump on the sweat drenched floor.

She awoke with a shiver and felt a dry lump on the side of her mouth. Unable to see in the dark, she could only smell her own sweat, urine and what was that familiar smell? Ah yes, blood. Dried blood. That was what was caking up on the side of her mouth when she fell unconscious on the floor and knocked the sharp edge of the lamp table. She put a hand on her heart and was surprised at both the silence outside in the living room and the slow, constant beat of her heart. She almost smiled when she shook her head hard to make sure she was not dreaming. No, she was not. She was breathing and living – in the dark.

“If only my husband was still alive – none of these would be happening to me,” she lamented to herself.

130708

A tribute to my aunt who lives in torment and neglect following the demise of her husband. Once the humble wife of a rich car dealer, she now lives her daily life in shambles and abandonment, reliant on support to get around, or for most part of her miserable, slow-crawling days, lies on her side, reminiscing the once good life she had when her husband was alive, by her side, money in abundance, and no one disrespected her. She cries each time I visit her, but the pain and emotional wreck it leaves me after each visit stops me from seeing more frequently than I would like to. I need greater strength to love and care for one in such desperate need. For now, I can only write of her sorry tale.

KL, my perspective

2009-05-18T19:03:00.010+08:00

Every journey offers lessons to be learnt - the responsibility lies on us to see them as such and grab hold of the opportunity to reflect, learn and grow; and not simply to view them as a passing phase in life - what a waste that would have been!

My trip to KL this time round was short (2 days, 1 night) - but eventful and colourful nonetheless. It was a last minute trip planned for the weekend - for my husband, it was to be a time to rest and relax; for me, it was to seek the historical and cultural heritage of the city. I have read of 3 famous buildings in KL: the Old KL Railway Station, Sultan Abdul Samad Building and Masjid Jamek. I have only seen photographs of these beautiful structures on the internet, and would like to view them from a fresh perspective - mine. And so as we depart from Larkin Bus Terminal in JB for KL, I was like a school kid on an excursion, anticipative of an adventure. As far as I can remember, I have always been fascinated with KL - the capital city of Malaysia, the land of my birth. Although I was born in JB, I have an affinity for KL shared by fellow citizens, whether or not we agree with the political administration of the country.

It is a city messy and congested - crowds of city dwellers and migrant workers dot every street and corner like ants in their colony; roads, flyovers and highways intersect at all points and junctions like wire mesh; old low-rise buildings, new skyscrapers, paint-tattered shophouses line the streets and wide land mass on low lands and high grounds - all of which evokes a sense of chaos yet unexplained congeniality. Looking at KL in a glance - one would think the city planners probably did not put much thought into its urban planning. But take a harder look and you'll see some serious planning and accomplishments in certain, concentrated areas. The downtown KLCC (Kuala Lumpur Convention Centre) arena, for instance.

There is the jewel-in-the-crown, the magnificent Petronas Twin Towers. Seen from any angle at any time of the day, this behemoth of a structure is sure to leave you spell-bound as you marvel at the ingenuous architecture and engineering that goes into the design and construction of this impressive landmark that has come to be identified as the symbol of national and economic progress for Malaysia to the rest of the world.

The Philharmonic Hall lies in the heart of the Twin Towers, making yet another statement - that it is both grand and cultured. Walk through the corridors and stairway of the Philharmonic Hall and observe its grandeur, made more poignant by the congregation of distinguished, international musicians, performers and artists.

The huge shopping mall, Suria KLCC, attracts both locals and foreigners to its wide and diverse range of retail outlets that cater to both the middle and upper class shoppers. In front of Suria KLCC is a large park, lake and jogging track for urban dwellers to enjoy nature's beauty against the backdrop of the gigantic Twin Towers. The Aquaria KLCC and Convention Halls draws throngs of people to its many trade fairs and exhibitions of international class. I must say, I am impressed by the modernity of them all.

Now, back in the city, walking under a scorching, tropical sun was no laughing matter. My husband and I had a few moments of conflict over my taking too many pictures, rendering him hot, burnt and frustrated in the sweltering heat. But I had to see those 3 historical monuments - they were the reason I came to KL. My hair messy, my tee-shirt clinging to my sweat-drenched back, my skin burning from the immense heat, I braved the natural elements to capture their glory on film. These 3 structures share 2 common traits – they are slated for conservation under the National Heritage Act, and the architects who designed them were all British and inspired by the Moorish architecture of Muslim mosques in India.

Jason and I travelled around the city on monorails and LRTs - the best way to observe a city and its people. It is my personal belief that the best place to observe the lives of ordinary citizens of a city going about their daily routine is in the city's trains (monorails/LRTs). There you'll see sleep-deprived blue collared workers dozing off, students wearily making their way to and from school and a whole string of remedial classes and extra curricular activities, white collared workers clutching their briefcases and speaking into their mobile phones, mothers cradling their newborns while fathers hold the hands of toddlers or push the pram. Everyday people about their everyday lives - a city in motion. It struck me then that people anywhere all round the world are the same - we are all trying to survive in our respective environments; no matter how harsh or comfortable, backward or modern.

Now back in Singapore, sitting in my comfortable tall-backed chair, typing on my computer as I look out into the greenery outside my window, I reflect on KL with nostalgia. I do love the city, despite its chaos. I do love its people, despite its often high crime rate. I do love its history, despite its lack of proper upkeep. I do love its government, despite its many apparent flaws. I guess I can rightly conclude that I do love the land of my birth, no matter how imperfect and slow its national progress is.

Short story: Home - where we belong

2009-05-06T00:06:00.002+08:00

No matter how many times she swore never to let her father's voice torment her, it always did. She was always living in fear of her father's sudden temper outbursts and the pain and shame from caning that she has come to associate her father to a tyrant, a sort of autocratic leader like Stalin who ruled with an iron fist. She sometimes joked with her elder brother Wallace that father was a 'communist' – when he spoke, no one dared to interrupt. What he says goes. No one could question nor defy him.

Yet she understood the hard side of her father. She has heard him scream in the middle of the night, while he was asleep, a scream so tormenting she found it hard to sleep after. In the morning, as she took her usual seat at the kitchen table, she would eat her breakfast in silence and observed her father intently, looking for any sign that could explain the mystery the night before. None. His face offered no answer; in fact, he did not look bothered at all. She winced in disappointment. Finally, unable to hold her curiosity no longer, she caught her mother when she was alone cooking, and creeping up quietly behind her, while stealing glances at the kitchen doorway to make sure her father did not step in, asked in a low tone, "what happened last night?"

Her mother, wiping a film of sweat off from her forehead, answered softly: "He dreamt that he was being beaten up by his father. He always does. Even at this age - can you imagine? You see, your grandfather was a very violent man. And your father had it the most. He was most severely beaten by your grandfather all through his boyhood. And when your dad dreams, it was real to him. He still feels the agony of his childhood..."

Mindy's heart broke. 'So that was why he was always so hard on us,' she thought to herself. Excusing herself, she went up to her room and closed the door behind her. Tearing out a piece of paper from her notebook, she sat down and wrote her brother Wallace a letter.

"Dear Wallace, I miss you. It has been three years since you last came home. Dad and Mom miss you too. We all do, you know that, don't you? I am writing to explain why Dad hit you so hard the last time you came home announcing your plans to drop out of university. Please understand that Dad placed high hopes on you to be the first graduate in the family. You know Dad, he was always studious, reading late into the night, even bearing hopes of going back to school himself. Can you imagine? At 58? But that is Dad. He loves knowledge, and had hoped that you would too. It was understandable why he reacted so strongly when you decided to drop out of university. You were given an opportunity he never was.

You see, Dad had a rough childhood. He was a hard working boy, and had big dreams of being a policeman, but his father could not afford to send him to high school. When his father found out that he has not been tending to the chickens and pigs in the farm, but had instead been hanging out in the backyard of schools to listen to lessons being taught, he became furious and chased him around the 'kampong' compound, hitting him again and again with a thick wooden rod.

How do I know this? Mom told me. You see, last night, I heard Dad scream in his sleep. And when I asked Mom this morning, she told me the whole story. Dad always dream the same dream - and he is 58 years old! He is still being tormented at this age. I am not writing to justify the pain Dad caused you. I am writing to make you understand why Dad leashed out on you in such anger.

Wallace, stop running away from Dad. Stop running away from our family. I don't want you to get married some day, have kids, and still dream of being beaten by Dad when you are old and grey.

Come home soon ok? I love you, big bro.

Love, Mindy."

That year, her brother Wallace came home to visit. He brought with him a new girlfriend the family has never met before - a young, sweet-looking Thai girl whose age was the same as Mindy. Since Wallace's return, things at home brightened up. For one, Mindy's father came to smile more often, and spoke kinder to them both. His outbursts became less frequent. Mother cooked nicer dishes too; an occasional Thai dish or two; a new skill she learnt from Eleenikrabot, Wallace's girlfriend. Even the family dog barked lesser, Mindy noticed, which has found for itself a new joy - chasing birds across the front porch on hot, lazy afternoons.

Growing up, she has always wished she was born into a different family, in a kinder home. Yet through the years, she has come to thank God for her imperfect parents and her intolerable brother Wallace. She has come to realise that even her parents have their past demons, and even they are learning to deal with it. She realised that no one set of parents have it altogether, that no matter how hard they try, they would be less than perfect.

Standing at the church altar with her handsome groom in hand, Mindy turned around to look at her aged parents and a beaming Wallace with his newly wedded Thai wife by his side. Mindy smiled and under the veil, she prayed that as she steps into a new phase in her life, into a family of her own now, she would always carry with her a valuable lesson learnt – that there is no greater place on earth but a place to belong to, a unit of identification, a family to call one’s own.

Loneliness sobers

2009-04-27T11:35:00.005+08:00

At 66, he confessed that loneliness knows no age – it strikes anyone, anywhere. And loneliness cannot be explained – it has to be personally experienced to be understood. He has probably not felt lonelier than he does now, with the absence of his wife who has never left home for more than a month at a stretch. She is halfway across the world in dark and dreary London, to care for her daughter who has just given birth to a lovely baby son.

He used to live his life around a fixed routine – waking at half past five in the morning, have a simple breakfast made up of two slices of plain bread and a cup of hot drink, then jog for an hour at the park nearby, before heading to his shop to clean up the drains and surroundings, picking up dried leaves, watering and trimming the plants. He comes home by noon, cooks himself a simple lunch of plain porridge with lots of vegetables and a few slices of fish, reads the newspapers for a couple of hours before taking his nap. He wakes in the evening to go out for dinner with his wife, strolls by the beach as the night wears on, before heading home to read some more, and off to bed by half past ten.

He seemed perfectly fine with this routine, until his wife left for London. He initially tried to stick to the routine still, but after a few days, the reality of being absolutely alone sunk in. He started to loathe the emptiness in the house, of not having someone at home to talk to, to banter with. He dreaded returning to a lifeless, concrete enclosure, and would rather hang out in coffee shops and eating places with old friends and chat till the wee hours of the morning.

Such is the power of loneliness that it has made him sober up in his parenting and social skills. He has time, lots of it, to reflect on his strict upbringing of his four children, who are now residing in various parts of the world, returning home to visit far fewer times than he would have preferred, given the geographical distance in between. He is sorry for his lack of tact in his interaction with his family and friends.

At 66, he is making a conscious effort to be tactful, patient, gracious, caring and loving. For this I am extremely proud of hm. He is my father.

Called out of darkness

2009-04-26T03:24:00.000+08:00

"You're white as snow, but you have a mind of a slave." - a line from Human Stain, a moving movie starring Anthony Hopkins, Wentworth Miller & Nicole Kidman.

I too, am a prisoner of my own mind. I am a prisoner of my own fear. When I was 10, I feared the apocalypse - prophesies of doomsday, the destruction of earth and mankind. I was both fearful and indignant, thinking if the world is going to be destroyed, what was the point of studying? Of learning? Of living lives? Such was my fear and indignance that my dad brought me to my church pastor, the gentlemanly and neatly-dressed Pastor Nicholas, who looked me very kindly in the eyes and said: "Angeline, Jesus has called us to be faithful where we are planted. So until He comes a second time, we have to do what are called to do. As a student, you have to keep studying hard. You got to keep growing and learning, applying your mind to be your best, until Jesus comes. We mustn't slack."

His words, though simple, struck a deep chord in the core of my being, and from then on, I promised myself and my God to live the best I could. And live I did. I studied hard and played hard. I loved much and broke many a hearts, as mine was many a times similarly broken. I did not turn away from Pastor Nicholas' words, until recently, when another fear gripped me - the fear of evil.

Bombarded by news of terrorism, sex syndicates, school shoot-outs, brutal sexual assaults, cold-blooded murders, domestic violence, acts of perversion - I feel like a country mouse trapped in the black dungeon of a city in ruins. I am fearful of the darkness that surround me, the environment that I live in - and I can't seem to find a way out. I am almost turning into a reluctant paranoid.

Realising the dire situation I am allowing myself to slip into, I decided I need help - I need to reach upwards and climb out of the dark dungeon of paranoia. As I write now, I am stepping out.

This I know and this I confess:

I have been redeemed - I am white as snow. I walk under a divine covering. I choose therefore to stop thinking like a slave. I am free. I walk with my head held up high. Though I am not complacent of the fact that evil surrounds me still, my banner of victory is lifted higher. I walk in full assurance of His love, grace and mercy. I am free indeed.

Choices

2009-04-19T15:15:00.001+08:00

Life is limited by circumstances but defined by choices. Our choices will either make life work for us or against us.

A simple truth, yet often overlooked, by the sheer fact that we are too bogged down by the frustrations in life - the little foxes that spoil the vine - and thus fail to see the big picture of the importance of CHOICES.

I came to this realisation this morning after my swim. You see, exercise is never a convenient choice to make. It is never easy, nor convenient, for me to decide to run 30km and swim 4km every week. It is a choice I have to make, knowing the importance that choice means to my physical, mental and overall well-being. Without daily vigorous exercise, I am perpetually lethargic, lacking in energy, restless and wrapped in a bubble of frustration. With exercise, I spring to life, making every moment in my life count, appreciating the beauty of life as I go along. It becomes pure ecstacy for me, the immediate effect of exercise. I can't do without it. But I have to make a choice to exercise. To get the motivation going at the start of the day is perhaps the most trudging moment of all - this is where the road forks in two - to make a choice that rewards or a choice that destructs.

May you find the strength to make the right choices that propels you in the direction of a fulfilling and rewarding life.

Fourth dimension

2009-04-19T02:17:00.002+08:00

I toss and turn in bed each night as my body falls into a deep sleep and my mind prepares itself for a couple of hours of 4th dimensional adventure. I call it the fourth dimension because it doesn't take form in either of the three dimensions that we know of; it is a dimension intangible in the natural yet tangible in the subconscious. It is my world of dreams.

In it I live and breathe a sum total of wishes and desires that never and have yet to take form in the natural. I have no control over it - I am not the master in this instance, and I am subject to graphic images and scenes that sometimes still makes my heart skip a beat when I think of how real and magnificent the manifestations were.

In it I have been a lover of many, a friend of well known political figures in their youthful days; and in not so glamourous moments, a fugitive - running away from various harms. The running away scenes are aplenty - I can always remember running away from assassins. Yes, assassins! Absurd as it may sound, this is the fourth dimension after all.

Life & Death

2009-03-29T23:50:00.000+08:00

I have taken to writing poetry recently. This time I thought I'll do it differently - i.e. I will share the thought process that went into writing this poetry, so that my readers can go along with me and understand why I wrote what I wrote, and why I composed it the way I did - i.e. the choice of words, the punctuations, the order of prose, etc.

This poem has 2 stanzas.

The first stanza has to be read in reverse order; i.e. from bottom up. The bottom is the start point, and the top is the end point. This is because when I first conceptualised this idea, the words in my mind were "life and death" - thus I wrote "life and death" first, and I had to work backwards, a step at a time, to the starting point of a man and woman's relationship.

Notice that each line ends with a full stop. This is to signify the different cycles/phases in a man and woman's relationship which has a beginning and an end.

Notice also the first stanza has only seven lines, and not the usual eight. This is to signify a continuance to the relationship - it does not quite end with these cycles/phases - it goes on to the next stanza (which will be explained accordingly below).

Between life and death.
Between having and losing.
Between appreciating and despising
Between understanding and judging.
Between staying and leaving.
Between loving and rejecting.
Between accepting and refusing.

The relationship first begins with acceptance, then loving, then choosing to stay together, moving on to understanding each other, appreciating each other, recognising the good fortune of having one another and finally, separation by death.

Here, the poem takes a twist. The second stanza is to be read in the usual order; i.e. from top to bottom.

Notice the absence of full stops or commas at the end of each line - this is to signify the eternity of the love relationship between a man and his wife which never ends, not even in death.

Between a man and a wife
The love lives on
Even in death

So now that you have a better understanding of this poem, here's how it should be properly read:

Between life and death.
Between having and losing.
Between understanding and judging.
Between staying and leaving.
Between loving and rejecting.
Between accepting and refusing.

Between a man and a wife
The love lives on
Even in death

Soar, Junior, Soar!

2009-03-27T15:17:00.002+08:00

Waters above your head you’re swimming
You can’t feel your feet but you’re trying
Take a moment now you can’t breathe
You keep afloat just so you live

Whatever you can’t keep you can’t throw
Whatever you don’t need you don’t sow
Now you choose to run you must soar
I’m close behind you can do more

Him at work

2009-03-23T23:58:00.003+08:00

He sits up straight
his legs on the floor flat

His head cocked
his eyes narrowed

He rests a hand under his chin... pondering
then quickly removes it
as a bright idea strikes

His fingers move as swiftly as his mind
double the speed to catch up

He labours hard at work

-my husband

Tis' not mine

2009-03-17T23:17:00.001+08:00

Many a splendid thing - not all are mine to possess
Great a blessing, the little that I have

Many a years between
Many a miles apart
Many a paths crossed
Though none between the two

Many a friends made
Many a joy had
Many an adventure rode
Though none shares the two

Many a beautiful thing - we have been blessed
Our halves our greatest possession, everything that we have

Distractions

2009-03-15T18:32:00.002+08:00

We have to admit - there are far too many distractions in our personal world today compared to our forefathers'. There are far too many distractions often disguised as things that we should attend to as soon as possible or we might forget to do them later. These are what I call nominal distractions.

Nominal distractions are a little tricky. They are certainly not bad; they are merely your day-to-day chores that often need immediate attention. For example, the little spot over there needs cleaning; the table is too dusty; the strands of hair gathered at the corner of the room is disturbing me; the laptop is greasy and needs wiping; the room is too humid - I need to put up the curtain and open the window; oh, the flower pot at the balcony is falling over - I need to prop it up; oh dear me, I forgot to put the clothes to wash - I need to do so before the sky turns dark and rains... and the list of nominal things to do goes on and on and on - until we put a firm feet on the ground and say "Enough is enough!"

Then there are the "thin-line" distractions. Again, they are not easy to identify. They are often disguised as things that seem important, especially in the area of relationship building, but without giving serious thoughts to our options and weighing the consequences, they can actually take us away from what we actually need to be doing at a given moment. For example, you should be finishing up your work but you go out for coffee with your friends; you should be spending time with your family but you go out for a movie, you should be attending to the huge pile of bills but you go for a spin in your best friend's new Harley, you should be doing your research but you download an endless stream of podcasts, checks out your Facebook, posts entries on your blog and fire away your numerous tweets on Twitter. You know what I mean.

So how do we deal with these seemingly harmless distractions which are really taking away from us precious time that could be put to better and more efficient use? The answer, though an obvious one, requires a great deal of effort to execute. The answer is "Focus". Duh, you may say. After all, isn't the opposite of "distraction", "focus"? Yes, but what makes "focus" achievable? I believe there are 3 important elements to eliminate our impertinent need to be distracted by nominal and thin-line distractions and focus our efforts on what really needs doing. They are Consciousness, Discipline and Action (CDA).

Consciousness - You need to remind yourself aloud that there are bound to be things that your eyes will catch notice of, that will distract you from what you intend to do. You got to be conscious of the distractive environment that you live in, and make a conscious, firm and cold decision not to succumb to those distractions, no matter how urgent or important they may seem.

Discipline - You will notice that "discipline" falls in between "consciousness" and "action". Discipline is the crucial point where you hold your ground and brave through the storm of distractions. Your eye catches note of something, your head turns in the direction of the object, your heart softens at the thought of the feeling of pleasure and satisfaction once the obejct of your distraction has been attended to, but your head is firmly stuck to your neck and you refuse to budge or move from where you are to attend to the beckoning distraction. Well done!

Action - Now, action plan. Once you have braved through both the conscious and discipline stages, you keep your eyes, head, heart and mind on what you need to be doing. You keep keeping at it until the distraction fades way. Distractions are like flies. They are attracted to food. Once you shield your food (things you are meant to do) with a cover (CDA), the flies disperse.

May you find greater efficiency in your work and productivity with your time in the coming days!

Children and Commitment

2009-03-01T22:38:00.009+08:00

Thoughts on having children: on one hand you have less personal time and higher expenditure; on the other hand you are building a heritage of love.

Someone once said, the amount of money you earn will not count at your deathbed; what matters is the people that are gathered at your deathbed. This brings to point the importance of building quality relationships with family and friends, rather than just accumulating wealth for personal achievement and satisfaction. Everything in life is a trade off. You lose something, you gain something.

You lose time, you gain achievement.

You lose energy, you gain fitness.

You lose devotion, you gain love.

You lose procrastination, you gain discipline.

You lose reluctance, you gain commitment.

You lose personal agendas, you gain friends.

You lose personal freedom, you gain children. And children are a blessing from the Lord. Happy is the man who has a quiver full of them!

The Plunge

2009-02-24T22:31:00.000+08:00

Today, I looked over the edge and leapt.
And when I did, my senses went awry.
I was assaulted by a tirade of apprehension and uncertainty,
but I stood firm on the anchor of hope.
I was tempted again and again,
to steer to the safe waters of the coast,
but resisted the contemplation,
simply because I have already taken the plunge
and I must move forward.

They taught me

2009-02-15T15:58:00.010+08:00

People I would like to meet before I fade away: Lee Kuan Yew, Condoleezza Rice, Maya Angelou, Archie Weller. And not just to meet, but to hear them pour their hearts out about things that matter to them, to take in their experiences, to receive their wisdom, to learn from their mistakes and to hold them in admiration and respect.

They have each impacted me in ways unique to their lifetime contribution to the world at large: Lee Kuan Yew politically, Condoleezza Rice intellectually, Maya Angelou racially, Archie Weller socially.

If I were to write a biography of a famous person, it would probably be Maya Angelou. Why? Because she went from a victim of abuse to a fighter of cause. She fights for the cause of women; black women particularly, justice, human rights, Aids, political stability and a whole lot of other causes affecting the voice-less; people who can't speak or fight for themselves.

Though I live and breathe in a comfortable, progressive and stable environment, I owe it to Maya Angelou to fight my fledgling cause of being a writer - to document the history, aspirations and achievements of our lives and to offer solace to others who identify with my writings.

Humanity

2009-02-12T09:54:00.005+08:00

A worthy cause – the investment into humanity. The help rendered below may seem small compared to the vast, pressing need of thousands of victims; nevertheless it is better to help even one, than not at all. I speak for myself.

Straits Times - Feb 12, 2009

Photographers' mission to help tsunami victims

By Gwendolyn Ng

PHOTOGRAPHER Alex Soh can still recall the ache he felt as he watched a sack of rice fall off a truck in a Sri Lankan village and a group of boys scramble to scoop up the grains as rain pelted down.

Batticaloa village was just one of many that had been devastated by the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami. Yet, more than five years on, residents are still struggling to rebuild their lives.

Mr Soh, 36, was there six months ago with The Rice Project, an initiative he started with his photographer friend Triston Yeo, also 36.

Its aim is to document the lives of tsunami victims, even though the disaster has faded from international headlines.

The ambitious undertaking began with him organising a photography competition requiring participants to submit a photo essay on the theme of 'Living'.

Instead of cameras or cash, the prize was a 10-day photo expedition to Sri Lanka last August to distribute rice and document the lives of people in Trincomalee and Batticaloa, two of the worst-hit towns on the east coast.

The team that went included the six competition winners - student Damien Chng, 17; systems specialist Tom Low, 32; and photographers Aaron Lim, 27; Denice Lim, 20; Jean Loo, 24; and Casandra Wong, 22.

Along with taking photos, they distributed 16 tonnes of rice to more than 500 families displaced by the tsunami and civil strife.

An exhibition of their photographs will be held at VivoCity from tomorrow to Feb 22.

Prints will be on sale and the money raised will go towards building about 50 houses for tsunami victims later this year.

'As we distribute rice, we hope that the stomachs of the tsunami victims will be momentarily filled,' said Mr Soh.

'However, this is only a temporary measure. The next step would be to restore houses in the affected areas.'

Corner

2009-02-04T08:42:00.000+08:00

I took the train all by myself to the airport, hoping to be as near as possible to the departure point of the country; to be near another country - maybe Melbourne, maybe elsewhere, I don't know.

I refused to listen to my usual podcasts, so I wouldn't be listening to other voices, and forced myself to listen to my own voice. I desperately needed to listen to my heart's cry. It has been whimpering all along for many months now, and I have simply ignored it, by getting myself busy with other things and listening to various podcasts. I have stopped listening to music because I wanted to gain knowledge, not just melody and relaxation. After months of ignoring the whimpers of my heart, I think it just broke. You know how sometimes when you break, but you just can't cry? The tears just won't flow, and you just purse your lips, refuse to speak to anyone and nurse your heart break.

I walked the length of the airport to look at the departure flights to various cities of the world, and wonder why I can't be on one of those flights.

Reaching the end of the airport, I sat down to write. As I do, I realised I have stopped empathising with people in worse plight than mine - people earning less in harsher and more hostile environment, working in less rewarding and fulfilling jobs. I have taken my eyes off them and looked in to myself instead and seen a deeper hole, a darker black.

I am jaded and burnt. I have lost my axe head and purpose. Like a chess player cornered at a game, I don't know which next move to make.

As I walked the airport once more, looking at the various departure flights, I thought:

What if I go to the most beautiful place on earth but have not friends?

What if I behold the most glorious sight and have not love?

That was when I decided to go home. I found my feet hurrying back to my husband and family - familiarity that is my solid foundation.

Recluse

2009-01-31T01:03:00.000+08:00

Over the course of time she has come to be subdued in her nature. Once a go-getter and never one to be intimidated by situation or people, she is now content to recline to the backseat - cruising along a path littered with bags of regrets and shattered dreams.

He looks at me in the eye and I glare back. 'I dare you to move me from where I am, coz nobody's getting me out of here. If I have to move, I will move myself.'

He withdraws his gaze and retreats, as if frightened by my threat. Again, I have been a pain not just to my surroundings, but to myself. I am stuck, and I am here to stay.

Truth is I wish not. But I realise this is my lot - that change doesn't come from others making the case for me, but the hard work rests with me. If I want to get out of my situation, I have to do so by my own will, strength and might.

Trouble is, I have none of the three - will, strength and might. Months and months of routine and mundane responsibilities root me deeper into the black cushioned seat. Sometimes I get a cold from the inactivity, sometimes I walk to the bathroom and cry.

He refuses to give up and comes round one more time. What do you want to achieve out there? I soften at his question, realising he meant genuine concern and would help if I let him.

'I don't know, really. I thought I am a go-getter and I have answers to everything, especially about things concerning my life. But I am wrong. I don't know what I want now. I want to be a story teller, but it sounds too idealistic to be achieved. And hang on, I know what you are going to tell me - that as long as I can dream it, anything is possible - I can achieve it. I have come not to believe in those tales anymore.'

He sees the forlorn look in my eyes and feels a pang in his own heart. I know, because I know him. He feels this way about anyone lost. And I am lost. The one others thought is admirable and indestructible - is held captive by her own prison.

The pain in my head throbs more violently. I wince like a caterpillar crushed under someone's foot. 'Help me get out of here,' I hold his hand and plead sincerely.

'Please.'

'I can be helped, I know I can. Don't let me stay this way. Help me through this blackness. I will be useful again.'

Today in History: The Inauguration

2009-01-20T23:18:00.003+08:00

I owe it to him. For giving me hope, for inspiring me, for re-igniting my passion for living.

For having a keen mind even from a young age. For embracing cultures wherever his mom brought him to – Hawaii, Indonesia, Chicago. For never letting racial prejudices get in his way. For breaking traditions, social norms and conventional beliefs.

For daring to hope where there is no hope. For standing up for what is right and proving to the nay-sayers that yes, a black man can be the most historical President of the great United States of America.

Even though his calibre as president still proves to be seen, even before he officially enters into office, he has brought hope to the flickering darkness of a nation of people at the brink of despair; he is revered as the most enigmatic leaders of our time, and he has inspired a whole new generation of people; young and old, white, colored, multi racial, of all citizens; to believe, that as long as we stand together in the face of adversity, we can bring change to our world. And change has come to America. Change has come to cities all over. Change has come to my part of the world – my place here in Singapore.

I owe it to you, Mr Barack Obama. I owe it to you, Mr. President.

200109

P/S: Today is a day in history, and I never want to live in another generation. It is my honour, my privilege, to be living in this generation and witness first-hand, one of the finest moments in history since the birth of Jesus Christ – the inauguration of the 44th President of the United States of America.

The rule of law

2009-01-14T10:10:00.005+08:00

Disturbing but true. The act of shaming an errant individual to serve as a reminder to the larger body of members. The iron rod of religion that encroaches on human decency and esteem - as the world progresses, so should institutions that uphold the society. Of course, basic fundamentals of an institution established from its foundation ought not be questioned and made issues of controversy, but the method of dealing with errant members - that should be addressed with wise judgment and deliberation of the circumstances surrounding the erroneous act.

Often times the very body or authority that passes such strict judgment and punishment are not angels themselves and are as frail a being in need of grace and redemption as the common folks. A balance of judgment ought to be struck - a balance that poses the question: Am I passing this judgment based on the standards of a reasonable person living in this current age and time or am I simply upholding a traditional form of judgment which even I myself may question its validity had I been the defendant.

Of course, it is easy for someone down the chain of command to question the judgment and action of a governing authority who has a wide and often privileged spectrum of issues and policies to consider before arriving at certain conclusions. The benefit of the doubt given, and I say this in respect, that it is prudent that governing authorities check the rule of law from time to time to critically study if they are serving the people they are meant to serve or have they turned tyrannical and irrelevant.

Straits Times - Jan 14, 2009

Malaysian waitress ordered to be caned for drinking

KUALA LUMPUR: A religious court has sentenced a Muslim woman to six strokes of the cane for drinking alcohol, possibly for the first time in Malaysia.

The Syariah High Court in Pahang also handed the same sentence to a man on Monday, and is due to make a decision on another woman in May.

Mohamad Nasir Mohamad, 38, a father of four, and waitress Noorazah Baharuddin, 22, were found drinking beer separately in pubs in July last year in central Pahang state, said reports released yesterday.

Nasir admitted that he had drunk beer at a pub in Cherating on July 11, while Noorazah was caught drinking at the pub where she worked, in Jalan Gambut.

Both were also fined RM5,000 (S$2,100) each by the Pahang court on Monday.

The third accused was part-time model Kartika Sari Dewi Shukarno, 32. According to the New Straits Times, Kartika, a Singapore permanent resident, could not attend court as she is studying in Singapore.

Judge Abdul Rahman Yunus said that he had given the maximum fine and caning as a deterrent to other Muslims, but had spared them a jail sentence.

'The caning is to shame them and should be done at any of the prisons in the country,' he was quoted as saying by NST.

The case comes after two controversial fatwas, or edicts - one over tomboyish behaviour by women and the other concerning the practice of yoga - sparked intense public debate over decisions made by the country's top religious body.

Malaysia has a two-track legal system, with the civil courts operating alongside state-based syariah courts. Muslims are governed by syariah laws in family and personal matters, while ethnic Chinese, Indians and other races come under civil courts.

According to NST, this is the second time such a sentence has been handed down. In 2005, the same judge sentenced two Muslim brothers to six strokes of the cane after they were caught drinking.

However, the caning has yet to be carried out as the men are appealing against the decision.

Alcohol is widely available in Malaysia, and Muslims are rarely punished for consuming it.

'It's rare but it's within the law and Muslims are subject to such law in this country,' said lawyer Pawancheek Merican, a syariah law committee member of the Malaysian Bar Council.

MP Salahuddin Ayub, the youth chief of the opposition Islamic party PAS, said he 'agreed' with the court ruling.

'The ruling only concerns Muslims and it does not affect the non-Muslims. It is to remind the Muslims not to drink,' he said.

Sheena

2009-01-14T08:40:00.009+08:00

She is close to my heart and I love her so very much. I am always thinkin of her and what fun growin up is for her - she is so full of life, joy, enthusiasm and passion she can't be locked in by limitation or restriction. She is wholesome, creative and overflowing with life.

She is compassionate and sensitive to her loved ones - especially her mommy who sacrificially gives up all that matters to her so her little girl could grow in an environment of love, acceptance, encouragement and security (in that order).

Sheena is a representation of all that a child is to have - much love and room to grow, regardless of the environment which sometimes threatens the protection in which she currently enjoys.

The beauty of family

2009-01-13T17:36:00.001+08:00

You see people smiling and laughing when they are with other people - friends, family, etc. You don't see them laughing as much when they are by themselves (fact is, you'd start speculating their sanity if they do). Reason being there is chemistry when people get together. And that is why I love families, particularly my husband's. The sense of belonging, acceptance and oneness. A warm shelter from a cold solitary world.

They give me a reason to look forward to coming home from a long day at work, an arduous day in class, a weekend gathering with friends, an overseas vacation. I have every reason to find my feet excitedly bringing me home each day because I find a place to belong to no matter the season that lifts or drowns me.

Swim to me

2009-01-03T22:17:00.001+08:00

Swimming is especially important to me because without it I am trapped in lethargy and dwarfed by limitations.

I have been ill now for 6 days and showing little signs of recovery. And I have been prohibited by concerned family members not to swim or perform any sort of vigorous exercise. Day by day my body aches, my head spins, my flu flows and my mind now anxious - why am I not recovering?

I resolve to swim first thing tomorrow morning - I may be in the pinkest of health, for all I know.

Reminiscence

2009-01-01T15:11:00.004+08:00

the sky a blanket of darkness
the air a morning chill so comforting
I step out into the coolness of dawn
noticing the puddles of water on the ground
collected from last night's rainfall
I take in the smell of fresh dew
resting on green leaves, flowers and grass blades

the showers behind, what awaits is a bright day
of hope and renewed dreams

the fast food joint is brightly lit
the music is turned up slightly louder than
what's comfortable for a quaint morning breakfast
where we're all strangers at separate tables and corners
avoiding eye contact as much as possible
comfortable with distance; uncomfortable with connections
in this city of dreams - the lion city

the familiar American songs playing on the speakers
bring jolts and tinges of acute nostalgia
bringing me home to days of youthfulness and recklessness
days of experiential living and innocence lost
I sit here by myself, though am surrounded by strangers -
I sit here, I reminisce and I write
in memory of who I was and
what I'd become

11/04/08

Voices - Choose Right

2009-01-01T14:26:00.002+08:00

Sometimes I would turn off the lights and huddle in the corner of the room so I could be alone with my thoughts. Aside by ourselves, my thoughts seem to adopt a persona where they would flow freely and speak about stuff I would normally miss in the busyness of everyday life. I need these quiet moments because I am a highly visual person and I am most 'attacked' in my mind - be it in my conscious state when I am looking at things or thinking of stuff, or in my subconscious when I am dreaming. Thus these quiet moments serve as a platform for me to 'take in' only the good ones and discard the bad ones.

Yet despite these quiet sessions, many a times I fear I would lose all the good things I have, especially the greatest love of my life. And I would remember the story of Job in the Bible - that the thing he feared most came to him as he feared. And I would try to shut the negative images in my mind out. But rather than shutting them out, I think all I managed to do was to push them to the sidewalk of my mind, and ever so often, they would step right back onto the high road of my mind and come taunting me all over again. In fact, every morning.

You see, I jog every weekday morning before I go to work. And I would listen to Christian podcast sermons by Dr A.R. Bernard, Phil Pringle and Joel Osteen. Their messages do wonderful things to my heart, mind and spirit. But you see, the devil is a destroyer and a counterfeiter. As I take in the good stuff from the podcast sermons, especially first thing in the morning when your mind is fresh and free of evil contaminations, the devil attempts real hard to plant his evil and negative seeds in my mind. You see, I recognise this, but try as I might, I do not have have apparent victory over his ploy.

I write this down now so I may warn myself not just thoughtfully, but in writing (something more tangible than just thoughts, and could serve as a reminder many days and months after) that the victory is my Lord's. I write so I may put my thinking into perspective and 'force' myself to take the narrow path of the righteous and avoid the broad path of self. I write this down also so this may serve as a warning to you should you be in the same shoes as I am. 'We read to know we are not alone', says the great C.S. Lewis. You may read this entry to know you are not alone - that really, we are, in more ways than one, in the same shoes as many others in many situations.

To write or not to write

2008-12-23T22:34:00.006+08:00

'Oh have you heard, the famous Hong Kong comedy king Stephen Chow, he used to sell vegetables in a market!' my mom-in-law chirped, her sudden revelation jolted me out of the disheartening monologue I was incessantly having with my down-trodden dream.

Unbeknownst to them, I catch more than I listen. I catch messages behind words spoken, looks exchanged, behaviours displayed, and habits repeated.

I turned to my husband and gave him a weak smile. 'I guess the fastest way to recognition, fame and riches is through the entertainment industry - because you get thrown in the public's eye through frequent and broad media coverage.'

I pondered if I should make a quick inroad into fame through other means or simply stay true to my inner desire: write.

I am at the crossroad of a very significant and eventful year coming to an end of its term and a brand new year of relatively bleak economic prospects. The present year has been significant because the journey to my undergraduate studies undertaken two years ago is coming to completion and I have been faring well; I toiled through a year of routine, manual and uninspiring work, no matter how I tried to vary my daily tasks and force-dosing myself with spurts of joy and gratitude; I desperately needed to shed some pounds and successfully turned myself into a fitnes junkie, jogging 5 times a week and swimming 4 times week, shedding 8 kilos in 6 months, and boosted my frailing self esteem; I developed closer friendships with wonderful people in church who have now become my constant suppy of love, joy, support and deep-bellied laughters, Jason's love so overwhelms me I could count with my 5 fingers the few occasions I cried painfully; and finally, a recent participation in a talentime competition got me and my 2 lovely girlfriends a measure of fame and recognition, such that we are now deciding if we should pursue our acoustic singing career seriously and professionally.

Remembering the many rags-to-riches and lousy-to-celebrity stories I hear and read so much about, I resolute to take a different path next year. Except that next year is only a month away. Which means my time is running short. I do not want to squirm around in mud and wallow in darkness no more.

Writing has always served as an objective outlet for me. Bottled up frustrations translate themselves into words that upon second and more reading, could potentially be useful as antidotes and encouragement to others in the form of autobiography upon publication.

Writing releases me to feel and express myself fully and easily, with no fear nor apprehension, because I let myself loose. Like an unbridled horse cut loose to run freely in the open plains, so is my being liberated on paper.

Yet many a times I find myself not knowing how to begin or where to begin writing.

Thus Joyce Carol Oates liberated my frustration, when I read this in her book, "The Faith of a Writer" (pp. 52):

"The writer, however battered a veteran, can't have any real faith, any absolute faith, in his stamina to get him through the ordeal of creating, to the plateau of creation. One is frequently asked whether the process becomes easier, with the passage of time, and the reply is obvious: Nothing gets easier with the passage of time, not even the passing of time.

The artist, perhaps more than most people, inhabits failure, degrees of failure and accommodation and compromise."

I am but human, and I am, as always, searching, for the right words.

Morning hawker fare

2008-12-18T08:51:00.003+08:00

I like being here in the morning. To sit in the midst of a quaint hawker centre, bustling with the breakfast crowd. Though the air smelled bad; an uneasy mix of stale foul air from yesterday’s poultry meat and today's breakfast like bread, rice, bak kut tea, wanton noodles, fried fritters and oh, coffee and tea; it is made pleasant by the hustle of human activity that greets a mundane work morning.

The hawker centre however is kept cool (temperature) by the many fans lined up along the age-stained, yellow walls – every piece of furniture you see in this place speaks of an era preserved by our fathers of times past for the current generation of comfort-seeking individuals.

Yet it is this harmonious blend of old and new, past and present, that instinctively evokes a certain gratitude this beautiful Thursday morning, bringing to remembrance the importance of taking in every day as a gift in itself and desiring peace among brothers, families and strangers.

In loving memory - Adeline

2008-12-12T11:31:00.001+08:00

Adeline
9 Sep 1970 - 9 Dec 2008

The beauty of life lies not just in the living, but the cause fought for while living. I believe Adeline fought hard to live well, well above her circumstances. May she be a testimony to those who know her, of our need to live life on the line of gratitude every single day and moment.

A survivor's account of the Mumbai terrorist attack

2008-12-05T13:58:00.004+08:00

Courage in the face of extreme danger - see especially the last paragraph...

Straits Times – Dec 5, 2008

'I hid in toilet stall for 7 hours'
American Michael Pollack was having dinner in the Taj Mahal Hotel with his wife when attackers struck. He gives one of the first comprehensive accounts to emerge of the terrifying hours that followed. This is an excerpt from his story published by Forbes.

MUMBAI: My wife Anjali and I were married in the Taj's Crystal Ballroom. Her parents were married there, too, and so were Shiv and Reshma, the couple with whom we had dinner plans.

The four of us arrived at the Taj around 9.30pm for dinner at the Golden Dragon. We were a little early, and our table wasn't ready. So we walked next door to the Harbour Bar and had barely begun to enjoy our beers when the host told us our table was ready. We decided to stay and finish our drinks.

Thirty seconds later, we heard what sounded like a heavy tray smashing to the ground. This was followed by 20 or 30 similar sounds and then, absolute silence. We crouched behind a table just feet away from who we now knew were gunmen. Terrorists had stormed the lobby and were firing indiscriminately.

We tried to break the glass window in front of us with a chair, but it wouldn't budge. The Harbour Bar's hostess, who had remained at her post, motioned to us that it was safe to make a run for the stairwell. We believed this courageous woman was murdered after we ran away.

We took refuge in the small office of the kitchen of another restaurant, Wasabi, on the second floor. Its chef and staff served the four of us food and drink and even apologised for the inconvenience we were suffering.

Through text messaging, e-mail on BlackBerrys and a small TV in the office, we realised the full extent of the terrorist attack on Mumbai. We figured we were in a secure place for the moment. There was also no way out.

At around 11.30pm, the kitchen went silent. We took a massive wooden table and pushed it up against the door, turned off all the lights and hid. All of the kitchen workers remained outside; not one staff member had run.

The terrorists repeatedly slammed against our door. We heard them ask the chef in Hindi if anyone was inside the office. He responded calmly: 'No one is in there. It's empty.'

That was the second time the Taj staff saved our lives.

After about 20 minutes, other staff members escorted us down a corridor to an area called The Chambers, a members-only area of the hotel. There were about 250 people in six rooms.

Inside, the staff was serving sandwiches and alcohol. We were told The Chambers was the safest place because the army was now guarding its two entrances and the streets were still dangerous.

But then, an MP phoned into a live newscast and let the world know that hundreds of people were 'secure and safe in The Chambers together'.

At around 2am, the staff attempted an evacuation. We all lined up to head down a dark fire escape exit. But after five minutes, grenade blasts and automatic weapon fire pierced the air. A mad stampede ensued to get out of the stairwell and take cover back inside The Chambers.

After that near-miss, my wife and I decided we should hide in different rooms. While we hoped to be together at the end, our primary obligation was to our children. We wanted to keep one parent alive.

Because I am American and my wife is Indian, and news reports said the terrorists were targeting Americans and Britons, I believed I would further endanger her life if we were together in a hostage situation. So when we ran back to The Chambers, I hid in a toilet stall with a floor-to-ceiling door and my wife stayed with our friends, who fled to a large room across the hall.

For the next seven hours, I lay in the fetal position, keeping in touch with Anjali via BlackBerry. I was joined in the stall by Joe, a Nigerian with a US green card. I managed to get in touch with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and several agents gave me status updates throughout the night.

After our failed evacuation, most of the people in the fire escape stairwell and many staff members who attempted to protect the guests were shot and killed.

The 10 minutes around 2.30am were the most frightening. Rather than the back-and-forth of gunfire, we just heard single, punctuated shots.

We later learnt that the terrorists went along a different corridor of The Chambers, room by room, and systematically executed everyone: women, elderly, Muslims, Hindus, foreigners. It was terrorism in its purest form. No one was spared.

The next five hours were filled with the sounds of an intense grenade/gun battle between the Indian commandos and the terrorists. By the time dawn broke, the commandos had successfully secured our corridor.

A young commando led out the people packed into Anjali's room. When one woman asked whether it was safe to leave, the commando replied: 'Don't worry, you have nothing to fear. The first bullets have to go through me.'

Anjali and I embraced for the first time in seven hours at the Taj's ground-floor entrance. I didn't know whether she was dead or injured because we hadn't been able to text for the past three hours.

Some may say our survival was due to random luck, others may credit divine intervention. But I can assure you only one thing: Far fewer people would have survived if it weren't for the extreme selflessness shown by the Taj staff, who organised us, catered to us and then, in the end, literally died for us.

Inching Forward

2008-11-10T00:27:00.001+08:00

Today I inch toward the dream that beckons. He calls in a still, small voice. Much like the voice of God as described in the Bible. He does not call out loud or screams for you from a distance. Instead, he waves a gentle wave and smiles a sweet smile, as he beckons you to notice him from a distance. If you catch notice of him, which he silently prays you do, he opens his arms wide to accept you into his bosom, and embraces you like a father his child whom he loves so much.

Today there is room for sensitive response to the silent voice of the dream.

He will not sit in a corner of the park and folds his hands in disappointment, nor will he scowl and frown in dejection. He is ever hopeful you will remember, notice and approach him. Though your steps may be small, like a little child’s, he is happy even if all you do is take a tiny step and deliberate a long while before attempting a second move. He is ever patient and gracious. He is your dream.

Occasionally he jumps up and edges you on, when he feels your time is near and you ought to incline towards him. Yet he does not coerce; he steers. If you only listen. If you only obey. He will be yours.

This Day in History

2008-11-05T13:36:00.005+08:00

Nov 4, 2008 – this day etches a deep print in history as the day the American people unite in one heart and voice to elect its first African-American President – the man of the hour – Barack Obama.

Obama’s election is historic because here is courage and persistency, which worked hard, endured hardship, shame, ridicule and injustice, over 45 years, to bring the words of Dr Martin Luther King in 1963 to pass:

"I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."

Obama’s victory has not been a stand-alone victory. He wins, riding on the dreams, pain, blood, and wings of predecessors like Martin Luther King, Jesse Jackson, and other heroes who fought for justice during the dark days of the United States.

He wins, riding on the faith, love and support of a people who dare to trust their hearts, speak with one voice and act in one spirit to place their nation into the hands of a Kenyan-American descent, to bring about change, not just to America, but to the whole world.

The 44th President of the United States – Barack Obama

2008-11-05T12:35:00.004+08:00

Source: http://uk.reuters.com/article/wtMostRead/idUKTRE4A30Y220081105

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - Democrat Barack Obama captured the White House on Tuesday after an extraordinary two-year campaign, defeating Republican John McCain to make history as the first black to be elected U.S. president.

Obama will be sworn in as the 44th U.S. president on January 20, 2009, television networks said. He will face a crush of immediate challenges, from tackling an economic crisis to ending the war in Iraq and striking a compromise on overhauling the health care system.

McCain saw his hopes for victory evaporate with losses in a string of key battleground states led by Ohio, the state that narrowly clinched President George W. Bush's re-election in 2004, and Virginia, a state that had not backed a Democrat since 1964.

Obama led a Democratic electoral landslide that also expanded the party's majorities in both chambers of Congress and firmly repudiated eight years of Republican President George W. Bush's leadership.

The win by Obama, son of a black father from Kenya and white mother from Kansas, marked a milestone in U.S. history. It came 45 years after the height of the civil rights movement led by Martin Luther King.

In a campaign dominated at the end by a flood of bad news on the economy, Obama's leadership and proposals on how to handle the crisis tipped the race in his favour. Exit polls showed six of every 10 voters listed the economy as the top issue.

The warfare

2008-09-23T21:22:00.002+08:00

In the dead after night
Comes a strange after thought
Creepy, crawly, a sneaky fellow
Bright and bold, not the least mellow
He comes to hurt, bruise and injure
To slash, rob and kill
He is the devil in disguise
He is the devil incarnate
He is born with evil in his heart
I, on the other hand, am calm and mellow
I know his tricks and am deceived not
I lord over him with my head
Right on my shoulders, in tact
My heart, a soft pounding –
Not the least thumping or vigorous
I am a calm wave of control
And by this I triumph him over

Superhuman Incentive

2008-09-10T21:51:00.005+08:00

Click this link to read a recent New York Times coverage on Michael Phelps' activities post-Beijing.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/10/sports/olympics/10phelps.html

Michael Phelps - quipped as a "superhuman" for his feat in sweeping 8 gold medals in the recent Beijing Olympics Games, setting 7 new world records and 1 Olympics record. This article centres on his hectic travelling and media appearance schedule after his mega swim-(star)dom at the Games. But what caught my eye wasn't the media attention he's getting - but the US$ 1.6 million advance he got to write a book.

See? Stories tell. Books sell. And for the celeb author - it all goes well. Especially when one thinks about what Phelps could do with US$1.6 million in advance, plus the balance payment (more millions) and subsequent royalties (much much more millions) from the sale of the book - all of which amounts to countless millions - or if you like - super millions.

And my guess for the title of Phelps' book? "From Pool to Cool". I'm looking forward to his book for sure. ;)

To each we belong

2008-09-05T23:47:00.004+08:00

There should be inter-connections
There should not be dis-connections
There should be compassion, warmth and joy
There should be smiles to replace scowls
There should be an asking after; not nonchalance
There should be inclusions; not exclusions
We should all belong - each to another, regardless of differences

To each his own

2008-09-05T20:46:00.000+08:00

There are groups formed and gathered all over the room. There is the occasional lone individual seemingly busy, not because he really is; he is pretending to be, so as to disguise his loneness and lack of companionship.

The one who seems to be in the centre of attraction, having more than a couple of people surrounding her at class intervals – she is one who talks loudly, colloquially, and seemingly without a care in the world – the one who is not hard pressed, but easy natured, friendly and not easily offended. She is usually not one who speaks polished English, who behaves civilly, and is well-mannered. More often than not, she is brash, imperfect, and not very attractive – yet holds a certain measure of charm that attracts.

He, on the other hand, is one who similarly, is loud and not quite attractive, but equally possesses a witty charm, earning him much companionship – his personality though shining in the group, gets drowned in the crowd of many like him.

She sits at the back of the class and observes the buzz of college activities around her – the room though crowded with companionships, lacks tangible warmth. Sitting quietly by herself with her hands to the keyboard, typing furiously to produce this note, she concludes that the only warmth and sincerity; reliability and consistency she has experienced, can expect to experience, and knows will always be there – is that found in church.