Legs like noodles

Lifted for the first time in six months. Two Korean girls came into the gym, one with a side ponytail (I kid you not, a side ponytail). The one with the side ponytail weighed herself, examined her makeup in the mirror, confirmed that her unusual, open-backed shirt does, indeed, fit her unusually while her friend did a few crunches. Then they left. At dinner an American guy told me in Korean that I was purple.

At Songnisan I climbed a mountain and I turned around. And saw my reflection. So my legs are now like noodles. We hiked fourteen kilometers before breakfast, started climbing at four am. It rained around six, got to the peak by seven-thirty.

I lied, we didn’t see any reflections. We saw really thick fog. Really thick fog, and having appreciated the thickness of the fog and the depth of the mud through which we plodded to get there, we tripped our way back down the mountain. We passed many fellows at nine in the morning who were just beginning their hikes, but no one fully appreciated the magnitude of our accomplishment.

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