I've been feeling unusually motivated when it comes to exercise lately - especially running. It's a nice feeling to actually look forward to doing a run, instead of trying everything I can think of to trick my feet into getting out the door. For the longest time I'd get to Brown Hill and nearly cry at the sight of those steps just going up, up, up - but now I get there and I'm like, "That's all you got?!? Bring it on!" And then I bounce up them, singing proudly along with Rockzilla, while the Koreans look at me in amazement yet STILL REFUSE TO GET OUT OF MY DAMN WAY!!!!
The extra activity has been a welcome addition to my physical and mental health - I'm feeling better all around. I'm noticing tons of changes in my body - new muscles appearing, old muscles waking up. I haven't been on a scale in ages, but I can tell from looking at me that some of the chubbiness Ant had to pretend not to notice is totally gone. I'm still definitely not at that healthy point where my body actually craves vegetables, but I'm trying to cram more of them down my cramhole anyway. When there's actually room in my cramhole left from all the ice cream and M&M's, I mean.
So yesterday I couldn't run, and I was bummed. I actually missed it. I still got in some exercise - biked to and from work, 45 minutes of Bikram (I skip those stupid breathing poses at the beginning), and a Crossfit workout I've modified to suit my measly arm muscles. Crossfit calls it the "21." I've renamed my version the "11." But, I had a great run planned for after work and I was really excited about it.
And then, I started projectile vomiting with little warning. How fucking sexy is that?!? I was fine all day, and then halfway through my meeting I was like, "Something ain't right here." Out of nowhere! I made it to the Gireum station, but had to rest for quite awhile there. Made it to Nowon, where I have to transfer trains, and it took about as much energy as climbing Everest. Made it to Taerung, which I normally just walk home from to avoid another transfer, but instead I took a nap like a bum on one of the benches while waiting for the brown train. It took me 2 hours to puke my way through what should have been about 30 minutes of travel time. By the time Ant got home from the climbing gym, I was tossing and turning on the bathroom floor, sitting up only to puke my guts out every few minutes. And Ant, who can sometimes be a bit stingy with the compliments, held my hair and rubbed my back while I barfed some more, and said, "I like your outfit. I bet you looked really pretty today - before you started puking, I mean." What is it with men and timing?!?
Today finds me back at work, still feeling yucky but not even close to how yucky I felt last night. Hopefully, I can get some food in me and get a run in tonight - I had planned for some speedwork, but I may end up just doing a few miles around town at an easy pace.