In anticipation of a nasty hangover tomorrow morning, I decided to switch up my schedule and get my long run in this morning. I'd now like to proudly announce that due to having zero knowledge of this area and super craptacular mapmyrun skills, I have apparently set a new world record by running 31.3 miles in a little over an hour. Take that, Meb!

Line for autographs forms to the left, people. No need to push.

So, ummm...it turns out that Edgewood Lane and Edgewood Avenue are two totally different streets that just happen to live within half a centimeter of each other on google maps. Who knew? I never bothered to fix the slight mapping error, so I can't say for sure, but it's entirely possible that I didn't run 31.3 miles this morning.

But I did leave my mark on the Dipsea Trail by puking all over it. Yeah, I'm a pretty classy girl. I figured since I didn't really know where I was and wasn't sure how to get back to where we're staying it might actually help me if something happened and CSI: Mill Valley had to come looking for me. They could start tracing my route from the snot rocket near the slide at the park, to the one out front of Balboa Cafe...after that they might be a little confused for awhile but if they happen to be runners they'd most likely figure that I'd loop around the mill...another snot rocket at the Eileen Fisher store, then the puke on the Dipsea steps...really, I'm all about personal safety.

So, enough about me. Let's talk about...ME! What? You were expecting some witty political commentary or something? Is this your first time here? As far as I know there are about 3 people who read this thing, which means I don't feel obligated to put much work into coming up with witty prose, and that suits me just fine. Anyway...

Finally talked to my parents. They're fine, thanks for asking. I was back in the U.S. for approximately 5.3 minutes before I received the eagerly anticipated, "Welcome home, now go find a job" email from my mom, and I think it was less than his record 3.7 seconds into the conversation with my dad when he blurted out, "WHY CAN'T YOU JUST SETTLE DOWN?!?!?" I immediately went into EMERGENCY SWITCH THE TOPIC MODE by mentioning something about my brothers, thereby sparing the dreaded, "When I was your age, I was blah, blah, blah..." stories. Overall, it was quite painless. It's much easier now that he's retired, and not always being bombarded with stories about people I went to high school with.

"So-and-so stopped by the store today...she's having a baby, you know."
"She's been having babies pretty regularly since she was 14. Is that the life you always wanted for your only daughter?"
"Well...at least she's settled down!"

It has occurred to me that I should probably ask him what his definition of "settled down" is, but I'm afraid it would just make my ears bleed.

As for Einstein, he's not up and running yet, but I have been to visit him several times and lovingly decorated him by drawing hearts in all the dust he's covered in. The problem is I have to get him registered and insured. Fair enough. Except my driver's license is totally MIA. So, instead of cruising around in the cutest car ever, I am stranded in a beautiful house with a never ending supply of fantastic food, surrounded by enormous ancient Redwood trees and only a few minutes walking distance from the awesome Dipsea trail, Muir Woods, and Mt. Tam trails. Yup, stuck here because I can't remember where I safely stored my license, which I need for insurance and registration. Sigh. WILL THE PROBLEMS OF THE FIRST WORLD NEVER END?!?!?

Alright, time for me to sign off. Now that I've dumped all the bacon out of my stomach, I need to go fill it up again.

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.

A few days ago I staggered dramatically through the door of our apartment, kicked off my shoes, and threw myself theatrically across the bed, forcing Ant to look up from the book he had been reading.

"ANT!!!! I don't think I'm meant to teach 1st graders!"
"Why?"
"Because I don't think you're supposed to look at a 5 year old and think things like, 'That girl is such an annoying shithead!'"

Seriously, how is it possible for something that barely reaches my waist and only knows about 5 words of the language I speak to be such a pain in the ass?!?

Grrrr!!!!

And today Stephanie (who is not normally an annoying pain, and is actually quite cute and charming) puked all over me.

"Teacher??? (tugging on my sleeve)"
"Hey Stephanie! What's up?"
"Blaaaaaaauuuuuugggggggkkkk (or however you spell the sound of puke splashing all over my clothes and dripping onto the floor)."

Yay 1st grade!!!