& çâÌæÚUæð´ ·¤è ¥ôÚU Îð¹Ùæ ÁæÚUè ÚU¹ð´ ¥ÍæüÌ ¥ÂÙð ÜÿØ ÂÚU ŠØæÙ ÚU¹ð´Ð ãæÚU Ù ×æÙð´, €UØô´ç·¤ ·¤æ× ·¤ÚUÙð âð ¥æÂ·¤ô ©gðàØ ·¤è Âýæç# ãôÌè ãñ ¥õÚU ÁèßÙ ·¤æ ¹æÜèÂÙ ÎêÚU ãôÌæ ãñÐ ÖÜð ãè ÁèßÙ ×ð´ ç·¤ÌÙè Öè ·¤çÆÙæ§ü €UØô´ Ù ¥æ°, çÁ™ææâæ ¥õÚU ©ˆâæã ÕÙæ° ÚU¹ð´Ð ŠØæÙ ÚU¹ð´, ÜÿØ ã×ðàææ ¥æÂ·Ô¤ Âæâ ãôÌð ãñ´ çÁ‹ãð´ ÂæÙð ·Ô¤ çÜ° ÂýØæâ ¥æÂ ·¤Öè Öè àæéM¤ ·¤ÚU â·¤Ìð ãñ´Ð

Jogging through the valley of the shadow of death
THE world's most invigorating exercise is jogging, but only in Asia. Going for a run anywhere else is pathetically dull: you pad along purpose-built waterside tracks with other yuppies like a herd of iPod-wearing sheep. I recently went jogging in Perth, Australia, and learned I could sleep at 10 kilometres an hour.
But joggers in Asia never have a dull moment. You have to leap over massive holes. You have to maneuver around wild dogs. You have to sneak past wild people. And, of course, you have to negotiate normal Asian pavement traffic: wedding parties, marchers, scooters, cars and trucks.
- My most memorable jogging experience was on a road near my home. This road was dug up so regularly that residents proposed changing the name from Victoria Road to Victoria Tfench.
That night, I took my youngest child with me. She sat in her stroller while I pounded the pavements, pushing from behind and feeling like SuperDad. She was so excited at the thought of an outing with me that she immediately fell asleep.
Reaching the road, I was horrified to find workmen had dug up both pavements. They had also turned off the lampposts. And they had installed a contra-flow system, which is when temporary traffic lights force cars to take turns using a single lane.
Contra-flow systems bring out the worst in drivers. Normally, when a traffic light turns red, a few drivers think: "I'll speed through it as it's only been red for a second or so." But when a contra flow system traffic light turns red, all drivers think: "I'll speed through it as it's only been red for a few min
utes or so, probably."
The only way for us to continue on would have been a suicidal sprint down the middle of the road in pitch darkness with crazed drivers running red lights in both directions.
So I was about to turn back when the man operating the temporary lights asked a favour of me. The walkie-talkies were broken, he said. Would I mind delivering a spare handset to the traffic light guy at the other end?
Seeing that he had the ability to turn the lights to "stop" and ensure our safety, I agreed to make the delivery. He clicked a switch, the lights turned red, and I jogged off down the middle of the dark road, holding the equipment in one hand, and pushing the baby-stroller with the other. I felt even more like SuperDad. Here I was exercising, AND taking the baby out, AND doing my bit to keep the city’s arteries moving.
But we were less than halfway down the road when I heard an ominous click. The idiot had turned the traffic lights green!
Vast numbers of roaring vehicles charged through the darkness, heading straight for us. The pavements were fenced off. Suddenly I knew what a skittle in a bowling alley felt like.
There was only one thing to do. Pray. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..."
The next couple of minutes were a blur as we dodged trucks, cars and buses and raced to safety. Miraculously, we survived.
I delivered the equipment and got my breath back. The excitement had woken the baby up. "Again!Again!"shesaid.
Next day 1 joined a gym.
The valley of death probably has more laughs than our columnist’s website www vittachi.com