When I lived in Xela, my host family wasn't nearly feeding me enough. My host mom simply didn't cook the way my own mom cooks (i.e., meals sufficient for an entire village). At the same time, I was working out every day, whether it be running with Steph, yoga with Emi, or hiking with Kevin.
Then I moved to San Lucas Tolimán, where the women at the parish prepared buffet-style meals every single day for the volunteers. I made up for all of my lost meals in Xela and then some. Unfortunately, I also became really busy with work, and it wasn't exactly safe to run around the lake by myself, so I stopped working out altogether.
Now I'm back in Charlottesville, and as of yesterday,
Sunny has
forced inspired me to start doing P90X with her again. ZOMG! After taking the last month off of any physical activity outside of paddling a kayak a few hours every weekend, I feel incredibly weak. I was exhausted halfway through the workout yesterday, and I woke up sore as all get-out this morning. I mean, I kind of enjoy feeling sore, because it makes me feel accomplished. But feeling handicapped by my soreness is a completely different situation.
And just to think... it's always the worst two days later.
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