Sprints

Today I finished week two of a new three-day-a-week morning sprint interval regiment. Sami came up with the idea to run in the mornings. She had read in one of her pregnancy books that mothers who perform light exercise while pregnant lose post-birth baby fat faster than those who don't, and politely suggested that I show my support by accompanying her in her endeavor. I responded the same way I respond to all of her ideas by first vehemently opposing, then politely declining, then leaving it up for debate, and finally consenting. I can't stand a guilty conscience and so I always come around. It went something like this:

Me: "You're mad I'm not going to run with you aren't you?"

Her: "No, it's fine."

Me: "I'm sorry, but it's just that I hate running and I hate waking up early."

Her: "It's fine. I'll go by myself. I knew it was a long shot."

Me: (Heavy sigh) "Fine. Maybe I'll do it even though I don't want to. Let me think about it."

Her: "Joe. It's ok. Seriously, don't worry about it."

Me: "Fine, I'll do it. Whatever."

The worst is when, as in this instance, my initial negative reaction to an idea doesn't seem to bother her. She plays it off like it's no big deal, but it's ALWAYS a big deal. Right? Maybe. Who knows? I don't think man will ever understand the complexity and mystery of woman. Because I cannot be sure of her true feelings, (and I am slowly beginning to feel that a husband is secretly tested a half dozen times every day) I play it safe and give in. Also, I seem to be more comfortable doing something against my will.

Weeks passed and we kept putting off our start date claiming that the weather was still too cold. Finally, after staring down at my muffin top of a stomach, I decided it was time to go for it. By this time, however, Sami had lost interest and embarked on a new endeavor of "hardcore" stretching.

Why did I continue on without her? Easy. I borrowed a stopwatch from school. There is just something obsessively appealing about the chirping sound of the start and stop button, and to look down and read numbers so exact.

The first day I went, it was cold and windy out, which did not bother me during the workout. It was only after I had returned into the warm apartment that my ears began to throb. Since then I have worn Sami's girly earmuffs which I can get away with here, being a strange foreigner and all.

There is a turf field next to the subway station about a three minute light jog away from our doorstep (and believe me, this is accurate. I have a stopwatch). This is where I do my sprinting. That first day, I could only manage four down and backs at around 20 seconds each with a 90 second jog in between. This doesn't sound like much, and it isn't, but I finished begging for an extra pair of lungs. I have gradually worked my way up to five down-back-down-backs at 40 seconds each- more than double what I started. I may choose to keep going for more, but I run before school and prefer to sleep in as long as possible, leaving me just enough time to get ready for the day when I return.

While my lungs have adapted slightly, and increased their capacity, my leg muscles still ache like the first day. My hamstrings in particular are as tight as piano wires. I stretch before and after and even throughout the day, but to no avail. Luckily, we wear indoor slippers at work, so I can shuffle around like the rest instead of walking like a 90 year old man who needs to poop.

During my run I am usually accompanied by one older woman who speed walks the perimeter of the field, and a man who reads the paper while hula-hooping. Hula-hoops are big here and even taken seriously as exercise. A woman at my gym stands and watches TV for 40 plus minutes, gyrating and thrusting and spinning that damn hoop all the while. I on the other hand, can only hula-hoop for three to four revolutions, depending on how fast I can get it started spinning with my hands and how fast gravity works.

Ideally, I would like to sprint Monday, Wednesday and Friday, but this week muscle soreness and laziness pushed me into Saturday. The great part about running on Saturday is that I was able to sleep in, however, this meant that more people would be occupying my running space. Koreans have school every other Saturday, and today there were a group of them bunched in my field farting around with badminton racquets and shuttlecocks. As I jogged to warm up many of them said hello, but I ignored them and acted as if the combination of my girly earmuffs and the blasting volume on my iPod was enough to drown their greetings. This may sound cruel and inconsiderate, but after nearly two years in Korea, you get a little tired of being a spectacle and just wish for nothing more than to blend in and be inconspicuous. This is impossible given the current situation because 1) I am white and no one else is white and 2) I am running outside for exercise and this is unheard of.

As I started my first sprint one funny guy, the class clown, decided to run along with me in a mock race. This was mildly annoying, but he quit after a down and only half of an up. As I charged ahead I told myself that if anyone got in my way I was just going to run them over. I was in a surly mood. After all, I was doing something I never wanted to do without the person I wanted to be doing it with. The one back at home doing the hardcore stretches whom I still can't figure out.