Race

I'm officially 47 today.

Instead of joining the workaholic rat race, I decided to take a day off on my birthday.

A break.

That's a good reminder to stop frantically adding bullet points to my bio and feathers to my cap. We've been working hard to achieve more and more, moving ahead to get new posts. Sounds too much, right? I pride myself on spending time to watch animated television sitcom Mr. Bean with my daughter yesterday, followed by reading few stories of Horrid Henry together before bedtime.

In fact, I'm lucky to find my daughter's school Beach Day falling on my birthday. Thus more than one good reason to take leave. The sun must have been too excited to celebrate my birthday, and we couldn't stay in the beach for the whole day without being overcooked. We returned home in late afternoon and suddenly it dawned on me that I still had time to exercise. I ended up having an evening run. My favorite part of the run isn't the pace. It's that for the first time I needed two numerals instead of one to log how many kilometres I've run.

But wait, isn't that another rat race? Yes and no. I'm not racing against anyone but myself. But at some level, every runner except the one in the lead is chasing someone.