Me at fitness boot camp

I started fitness boot camp last week. Three times a week of 45-minute non-stop physical tortures sessions which include a mixture of the following exercises: sprints, press ups, squats, lunges, tricep dips, sit ups, jumping jacks, burpees, skipping rope and boxing.

It’s tough. Especially tough if you’re not at all fit. I’ve drawn a comic to show you how tough it is. (Actually, it shows how unfit I am.)


Me at fitness boot camp


It’s been several years since my gymming/running days so it was hard going the first time. The coach said newcomers should perform at 50% intensity but I think I barely did 10%. We started the session by skipping rope and I was wiped after one jump.

The good news is that it gets better quickly. At every session, I feel like I can do a lot more than the last. After five sessions, I feel like I can almost catch up with the long-timers.

I mean not be so rubbish as to be an embarrassment to the human race. I can now skip at least five ropes without getting a heart attack. Yay me.

Yay! I’m “Favourite Blogger”!

Wow! Just found out that I won the Star Sports Blogger “Favourite Blogger” contest! So happy!!

Star Sports Blogger

Click here to see contest page.

I’m quite amazed that I won by two votes, so I must thank every single person who voted for me because it means every one of your votes counted a huge deal!!

I feel very loved! Thank you all for your support!! Love you all back! Mwaks MWAKS!

This makes me feel like I need to do more sports, you know. It’s just a bit tricky because I like so many kinds of sports, I feel quite torn among them all.

But, yeah, doing more sports is good. It makes my skin glow and makes me feel more energetic every day.

And, like, when I need to do emergency chasing of buses and MRTs (I do that a lot), I like to be still alive by the time I finish my maniacal sprint to the door.

A hopeless heap

Constant exercise helps in that department.

And now to await news of the voter prize drawing. It will be announced next Tuesday. One of you will win a slinky Samsung netbook! WHO WILL IT BE! =D

I can’t wait to hear it! Let us all know if it’s you!!

Once again, thank you all for your effort in voting for me and even asking your friends to help. Your kindness is much appreciated!

Oh, yah, and thanks to all who dropped supportive and encouraging comments at the contest page (and also on my blog). You guys are ace!


My personal trainer is… *beep*

It’s such a joy working out with Mr Eric Goh, California Fitness personal trainer.

He springs the most unexpected surprises, leaving you in such stunned disbelief that you momentarily forget the pain of muscle burn because what you’re feeling at the moment is to bop him in the head with your last remaining strength.

In the beginning, of course, all is peaceful and innocent.

Mr Eric Goh smiles encouragingly as he makes your legs work for their keep.

California Fitness

He counts for you patiently as you work your quadriceps.

“One… two… three….”

Soon, your quadriceps rebel. They don’t want to do anymore and they demand a hot bath with no concessions.

So you tell Eric, “Cannot already! My legs are not moving!”

But Eric continues to smile at you encouragingly.

California Fitness

He says, “You can do it. Just three more and you’re done, okay?”

You grit your teeth and tell your quadriceps, “Quit whining and just do three more, then.”

They say, “OKAY FINE,” so you proceed.

California Fitness

With all your might, you do one count and Eric counts out, “O.”

Veins bulging from your temples, you force out another, and Eric counts, “N.”

Something starts niggling at the back of your mind.

Drawing on the last bit of energy you never knew existed, you do just one more and Eric counts, “E.”

Then you burst out laughing even as you stare daggers at him: “WEI YOU CHEAT!!”

California Fitness

Eric says, “Come on, don’t stop, that’s only one. You still have two and three.”

In utter disbelief, you numbly call on your last reserves, iota by iota, and, before you know it, you’ve finished doing T, W, O and T, H, R, E, E and you can’t feel your legs anymore.

Your quadriceps finally realise that they’ve been duped. As you try to stand up from the bench, they buckle over in rebellion and reduce you to an unglorious heap on the floor.

“Wah lau kena bluff!” you protest weakly as you pant exhaustedly.

And Eric smiles at you encouragingly and says, “Now, next set!”

A stranger came up to me and…

A strange thing happened as I was jogging home earlier this evening.

(Doh. The Goony Goonfather just came to look over my shoulder. He saw what I typed (above) and asked, “Hey! What strange thing happened?!”

“Don’t tell you,” I said cheekily.

“Did you fart and run faster?” he suggested.

“Siao lah!” I laughed despite myself.

“The propulsion created by the fart would make you run faster.” He illustrated by miming a fart-propelled run.

“Go away! Stop bothering me!” I made a face at him as he walked away making farting motions.)


I didn’t fart.

Not while I was jogging, anyway.

I was on the finishing leg of my 6km jog. My usual route takes me through my estate, past an overhead bridge and through a park connector which winds through a HDB estate. And then back the way I came.

So, I was on the finishing leg, running on a pavement beside some blocks of HDB flats.

Fifty metres ahead, I noticed a well-dressed Chinese man in his mid to late 20s. He looked like he could be a teacher or a salesman, or just some random executive, on the way home from work.

I noticed him because he was looking at me as he walked towards me.

I focused on my run and kept to one side, not looking at him.

When we neared each other, he stopped me.

“Excuse me,” he said.

Sheesh. I had to stop to see what he wanted.

“Yes?” I looked at him expectantly.

“Is there a running track nearby?”

Oh, maybe someone new to the neighbourhood who wants to get some running done.

“No,” I said, “But there’s a park connector there.” I pointed back to where I had been jogging.

“I see,” the man said, smiling.

He spoke in a pleasantly modulated tone with clear, grammatically correct English. His eyes were focused on mine.

I got the feeling that he wasn’t really interested in running tracks.

You know how, when you give someone information, their eyeballs will shift as they process the information? Or they will at least look where you point?

Well, this man just kept his eyes focused on me and smiled the whole time.

Maybe it wasn’t enough information for him to chew on, I thought, so I continued, “The park connector is just across that overhead bridge over there.” I turned around to point carefully in the right direction.

When I turned back to him, he was still looking at me, and not at the place I was pointing at.

“I see,” he said again.

And he didn’t even make an effort to ask more about running tracks, which was all I was interested in talking to him about.

So, I smiled at him and started to jog away.

“You look really fit,” he said, still smiling.

Caught by surprise, I muttered a quick thank you, coupled with a bashful smile.

I had jogged about three metres away from him by this time.

He didn’t give up.

“Do you run every day?”

Five metres. I had to sort of jog backwards so I could face him to answer his question.

“Er, no. Only whenever I can.”

“That’s great,” he said. Still that unceasing evergreen smile.

Seven metres.

“See ya!” he said, waving.

Oh gosh.

I gave him a quick smile and jogged forward, never looking back.

So, what was up with that?

I don’t think he was trying to hit on me. I was in a baggy t-shirt and shorts, messy hair, no makeup, sweaty.

I looked worse than in this photo. Seriously. I had to touch up this photo a bit because I look like Sadako without makeup and I don’t want to scare my readers off.

The man was good-looking. But who cares? The way he tried to have a conversation with me was weird.

I mean, it’s probably not weird in friendlier, more liberal cultures. But it’s certainly weird in conservative Singapore where people are taught from young never to talk to strangers.

And who would try to start a conversation with a jogger? The fellow is jogging, for goodness’ sake. He has no time to stand there and have a conversation with you!

Some very weird people exist in this world. I suppose it makes the world more interesting. As long as they’re not into raping or mugging or murdering.

What do you think?

Cheating in ABT class

Today’s ABT class was funny. (ABT stands for Abs, Butts & Thighs, which is pretty self-explanatory.)

Our instructor is a kooky uncle type (looks to be in his late 30s) who tries to motivate the class by throwing out random suaning comments at random people such as: “Pretend to move your board around only right? We already started doing three counts and you still moving your board.”

Nanny Wen’s name today was Pink Colour 小姐 (Miss Pink) because she happened to be wearing all pink. Mine was Blue Colour 小姐 (Miss Blue) because I happened to be wearing all blue.

“Pink Colour 小姐 don’t play cheat, move your leg higher.”

“You all har… do properly!”

“See, Blue Colour 小姐 think you all no standard.” (Because I was giggling away nonstop.)

Anyway, today’s class was also a torture. I still haven’t recovered from yesterday’s shoot and I was so tired I kept spacing out and lunging the wrong directions when we did lunges.

On a separate but related note, I WON A LUCKY DRAW PRIZE!!!!!!!!

Well, it’s not a very big prize but it’s always cool to win a prize.

Most Singapore Sports Council classes cost $65 (for 12 hours total), although there are a few $85 and $110 ones. But I’ll probably chose a cheap class because they’re more fun. Like kickboxing and hip hop dance.

The $85 classes are boring. Like yoga. Most boring thing in the whole world. I attended one yoga class at California Fitness ages ago and it all but put me to sleep. How can people do yoga on a regular basis? One class put me off it forever.

Anyway, I cheated in ABT class a lot today because I was SO tired. Which kinda defeated the purpose of even going to class. But I did get a somewhat reasonable workout and will make up for it next week.