This morning I took my first run around the neighborhood. I appears as if, completely randomly, I ran 3.1 miles. That's 5k for you non-runners out there. Wacky. I ran it really really slow, though, because my knees are killing me from all of the packing and unpacking of boxes.
I'm still shooting for 50k seconds of exercise in November, but it's going to take some doing. I really totally let my eating and exercise fall all to, um, excrement, my last week in Los Angeles. I can feel the softness of my belly and it upsets me. Boo.
However, I've now been living in San Francisco for 3.5 days. In those days I've gone to my company gym twice and ran outside once. I meant to do yoga last night, but around 10pm I started to fall asleep standing up, so decided against it. Sometimes your body asks for something really specific, and you have no choice but to hand it over.
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