i totally pulled the muscle in my left forearm while rock climbing yesterday and it hurts like a biiiiitch.
however, i will not whine about it at home because on saturday, james went mountain biking and ate it at one point, and when he did, the bike’s tire hit him in the back of the knee. instead of stopping its rotation when it hit him, it kept turning, and since he was caught, it continued to tear his skin off. so he’s walking like a pirate and has a huge gauze pack on the back of his leg and i’m not trying to look like a weenie with a pulled muscle!
rock climbing was still fun though. laura and i climbed a few different walls. i only reached the top once, which was disappointing, but i came close to the top several times and reminded myself that it was my first time trying it. i dont know why i get this idea in my head that i have to be some rock climbing expert beast at the first attempt. i would definitely like to go back again and try to reach the top of the walls i didnt make it to yesterday!
this morning laura and i walked 2 miles. tomorrow evening i’m going to swim.
on sunday i ate like shit, and i paid the price for that. my stomach was messed up that night and i just felt gross in general—bloated, heavy, you know the deal. i stayed up till 4:30am—i just couldnt sleep, which is terrible because 26 aint the same as 16 where you can stay up that late and be good to go the next day, let me tell you—and asked myself, “was this worth it?” no. “do you feel good?” no. “are you happy you ate all that?” no. yesterday i was back on track and i already feel 100% better =]