From January through April, 1998 I lived in Arctic Russia as a conversational English instructor. Before I left, I was sick on the warnings of others. I'd been told on numerous occasions and by several people to be careful of everything I could possibly eat, because it would make me really sick. Oh, and don't drink the water.
The first night I arrived, the family I stayed with had a huge banquet, both to celebrate my arrival and as a birthday party for Tatiana Ivanevna, my "host-sister." All things Russian arrayed the table before me. Fatty layered gelatin with a layer of shredded meat, beet and pea salads pink with mayonnaise, garlicky shredded carrots with raisins, relish plates of mini toasts and caviar, and the prize: delicately sliced reindeer tongue. Every square inch of table was covered with carefully prepared and beautifully presented dishes. Between the warnings of friend and a horrible case of nauseated jet-lag, the meal was wasted on me.
For two solid weeks, I couldn't eat anything. I was certain anything I put in my body was going to poison me. I drank water boiled and placed by the window where the -50 degree weather outside infiltrated even that thick paned glass. It was such a small pitcher, and hot drinks have never had the same power to quench. My skinny jeans got baggy. At around 160 pounds, I was a walking skeleton. I was faint, hungry and cold!
One day the dam broke. I was so thirsty, I stuck my head under the faucet and drank and drank and drank. Tatiana Ivanevna walked in, saw me and just laughed, as only Russians can laugh. It was such good water, sweet and cold! It wasn't just the water either. Reindeer sausages, soups, that crazy black bread I've been looking for ever since, butter, beets, potatoes, cabbage, a whole chicken skin stuffed with its own meat and other savory fillings and baked (an unnerving dish for the uninitiated with it's uncanny resemblance of a headless, baked baby). In the post office down the street, a woman sold piroghi filled with meat, potato, or an almost burned cabbage. The borscht, cheese, the sweet white bread, the black current jam, peach tea sweetened with condensed milk... Three months later, at the end of my stay another feast lay before me. This one wasn't wasted.
Today I ran more of my 2 miles than I would have though possible, this early on. Rest days are great for allowing all that good glycogen to build up in your muscles and allow you to feel strong. I think I was also propelled by this morning's weigh in. 224.5 pounds. That is a 5.5 pound loss from when I weighed myself a week and a half ago. It's really fast, but I'll take it, even if it's just dehydration!
My bike ride was fun, too. It was a great day for ducks, cool and wet. After 25.1 miles, I was coated with grit and road grease. Yuck! But wet and cold are circumstances, misery is a choice. I had a great ride.
I rode back to JE's work and he paid the guys who do the custom detailing to pressure wash my bike. (Why were they out washing cars in the rain?) He took an early lunch and we went to Pho Ba Co in Irvine. Good pho, so warming.
I picked up the triathletes bible today. Gotta admit, I'm freaked out about this. That pep talk I gave myself yesterday? Tonight it feels like bunk. But I will prevail, I usually do.
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