run run run
One Sunday almost a year ago, J and I decided we would postpone a visit to the art museum, abandon our bikes, and instead, take our running shoes to the MacRitchie Reservoir . And that was the start of my slow conversion to enjoying the run (Ok, that plus J's nagging and the lure of new gear). There's something about the singularity of the path during a run. Cement, asphalt, or in the case of our favourite route at the MacRitchie Reservoir, gravel, rock and dirt. It leads from the reservoir itself, up and down some varied slopes, to the boundary of the Singapore Country Club. It is the same 3.5km back to the reservoir. There's the certainty of the start and the finish. It is a linear narrative. The story is framed the same way each time. And there's something reassuring about this. Yet there's nothing monotonous about the run. Especially on a trail through a reserve like MacRitchie. Around a bend where the path widens significantly, some days you can he