In late October I wrote about trying to train up my body so that I could at least run for 30 minutes without suffering from a heart attack or whole body cramps for the next week. Well, it's been almost exactly three months since that entry, and I can now report that I can run 3 miles in 32 minutes and 38 seconds. Yipppeee!!!

So it took 3 months, which was not my initial plan - it was a ten week plan that I was following - but still, not too off the mark and I must say if anything this proves two things: firstly, if someone who had very little cardio stamina such as myself can train to run at this basic level, anyone can do it, and secondly, nothing beats a good solid training plan which builds up your strength steadily without undue exertion.

Now I have a question: my incredibly great training plan only covers up til this level, so where do I go from here? I suppose I will carry on running the 3 miles every day. I guess I can aim for the ten minute mile. The run itself, of course, remains the source of pleasure.

So MH and I went to London to celebrate my birthday. We had a splendid time with many great meals, not the least of which was my birthday dinner that was spent with Liddle Sis, my great friend W. and MH and myself at a supposedly Spanish restaurant with an incredibly snooty waitress.

There was much merriment to be had ("Darling Old Person" was the card I received from the still immensely young Liddle Sis, which showed two dogs discussing Botox). Suffice it to say that I am very grateful and happy to be able to celebrate my thirtieth birthday in such a good way. 'Lucky me' was the motto of the day.

We had dinner with friends of mine who had children or were pregnant and it caused a rash of comments on unsuitable names for children. I suppose now that I have reached an age where my last egg may drop any second according to ye olde Asian folklore (as per my parents) I should give the matter more serious consideration. Unfortunately for my parents who are dying to become grandparents, this was the extent of the consideration MH and I had:

Unsuitable First Names For Children with the Surname 'Lee'
1. Ugg.
2. Sara.
3. Happy.
4. Sad.
5. Love (you get the drift).

Ever noticed how Asian children never get named 'Shaniqua'? Have you been surprised when you asked for a 'Caleb' expecting an Irishman but ended up with a Chinese guy? Wondered what it would feel like to be a Korean 'Georgina', 'Arabella' or 'Hermione'? Not to mention the slew of edible names such as Plum, Apple, and Peaches. MH and I have realized naming children is one science experiment too good to miss - this may be the one incentive that will lead us to having sprogs.

The joy and delight of being in London among such great company was marred by the fact that the exchange rate left us in positive penury and the dreadful flight back made me suspect there was a conspiracy to kill us off. Virgin Atlantic's multiple stress tactics were as follows: starvation (due to a missing pilot we did not leave until well past dinner time and I had had my lunch rather early), refridgeration via absolutely freezing A/C and confinement (we hovered over Newark for an hour, making our travel time a whopping total of eleven hours). I could well imagine the conversation between the pilot and air traffic control:
"VS 1, have your passengers died yet, over."
"This is VS 1, no casualties yet reported, over."
"Too bad. You must hover for another two hours until we've killed them all off, over."
"Will we allow food and water? Over."
"They can chew wet napkins. Over."

After so much joy, there can only be pain. As expected my workflow has been a little bit out of control since Tuesday.

After I posted my previous entry I was struck down by a violent fever. MH had to take me to see the doctor. It was the first time we'd been to see our doctor since our old one retired this summer. In my delirious state I was not in the mood for polite chitchat so when the doctor asked me what were the symptoms, I said,"Well, I think I have tonsilitis and sinusitis." The doctor looked at me and said, "Why don't you let me make the diagnosis, OK?" Of course, after I told him my symptoms and he measured my temperature, made me say "Ahhhhh," while he peered into my swollen throat and pressed the really painful areas of my temples, he told me that I had tonsilitis and sinusitis and prescribed me some terribly strong antibiotics.

So I was out for well over a week. It wasn't great. My friends ended up taking care of me while MH tried to take care of my friends. And then Christmas came by and went, and I didn't have much to show for it (although I got some beyooo-tiful pearl earrings). Poor MH went without a Christmas present, since I belatedly decided he should get a Wii only to realize too late that most of North America wanted a Wii and not a single one is to be found on this continent neither for love or money until late January next year. Such are the trials and tribulations of my nearest and dearest. But I am fully recovered now. I even managed to go to the gym today for the first time since November. It shows I am in sufficient mood to ponder how my 2006 has been.

It's been a year of facing new challenges. We found out last month that a close family member has developed a chronic illness. This week my dad retires after an overachieving 34 years as an international financier. MH has new responsibilities at work, and I have been carving out a new career path in financial services. MH's friend lost his brother in Afghanistan - a terrible, gut-wrenching death that still provokes tears. These are all different challenges and much fine detail needs to be worked out in the new year to overcome them.

MH and I have done more things together than we have ever before. We started taking golf lessons together, and MH has joined me for yoga classes. We traveled for two weeks together in Asia. We have had more chances to actually be in the same space - which is great after the previous year ("Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing...").

This year I finally discovered Manhattan in all its glory - all the exhibitions, art shows and side streets with great restaurants and bars. It is also noteworthy that some time during the summer I finally managed to ditch my subway map (which is not to say that I don't still get lost). I can close my eyes and still hear the beautiful music from the shows I've been to at the Lincoln Center. My tongue remembers the taste of the fresh oysters, the luxurious sushi, the mouthwatering desserts and the fragrant drink. Happy moments seem to coincide with visits to great restaurants.

When I was a teenager I remember thinking that I should really live it up, because I thought later on in my life I would surely lead a domesticated, routinely dull and wholesomely virtuous adulthood. Well, I'm staring thirty in the face next month and it's amusing and fascinating to realize that what my teen self envisioned has not yet become a reality - there has been euphoria in abundance. I know at some point I'll stop having fun (or will I?).

What new endeavours may be taken on in 2007 remains to be seen. I am cautious about the trials to come but I will try to remember that I have much, much more to be grateful for.

This is a picture I took in Bali. The image of something tropical is sorely needed on cold, dark winter days. My friends from the equator are here to enjoy the dark chill of the coldest season of the year - something they seek out actively because it is not an experience they undergo naturally - but knowing where they are from helps to remind me of my recent travels in sunnier climates. It's great to have friends around who help me see the winter in a different light - not just something cold and unwelcoming to endure but as a fascinating change in season.

I'd still take the warmth of summer any day.

One of my nightmares when I was a child used to occur during the summer holidays and goes thus: I wake up the next morning only to find that I'd missed a day of school because I didn't know that school had started the day before. I had forgotten when my summer holidays would end. I felt the same sense of panic as I woke up yesterday.
"Is today Friday?"I asked MH.
"Hm. Um. Yes."
"The day after Thanksgiving?"
"Yes."
"Do I have this day off?"
"I don't know, you said you did."
"When?"
"Before we went away. You sincerely believed that you had today off."
I had to look up my Treo calendar to check.

Crazy old coot. But I'd like to think that the reason why I appear so forgetful is because I enjoyed my time away so much, in the same way I used to spend my summer holidays, because I had completely lost track of the usual sense of me. Of what I do in my usual every day life. To break free from such containment is a true holiday, I'd like to think.

Or it could just be that I am growing prematurely forgetful as I reach my milestone birthday.

Let me tell you about my time away. It was full of sumptuous, gorgeous food - a resplendent Chinese banquet, sweet, succulent hairy crabs and nostalgic indulgences from my mother (we are an earthy family, we eat the type of Korean food that most people's grandparents' generation would have had) and friends, dear faces I always somehow seem to dream of every now and then as if I had seen them every day. It had the element of the tropical, the extravagant (as we stayed in a fabulous resort) and the sobering: who thinks of beggars on the street, out in the hot sun with no shoes on while sitting in an airconditioned taxi that costs five dollars to make a 20 km trip? I saw my beloved husband tired, cross and aching from squeezing his lanky frame into a dozen cramped seats. We watched too many painfully awful films, ate too many meals made of sandpaper and industrial waste (aren't these the ingredients of airplane meals, worldwide?) in enough time for me to finish reading six books. I saw him happy and tanned on a poolside cabana, ready to jump into the warm water - and absurd with a frangipani flower stuck to his head, not sure himself of the reason why he decided to frame his glossy head with the white petals.

I slept for 11 hours once I got back into my bed at home, a dazed dreamless sleep. Or so I thought.
"You kept talking to me all night," MH said, when I finally woke up. "But I couldn't make out what you were saying."
It appears I am having trouble getting back to the ordinary, usual me.