Running in Korea

Any time my life gets changed around for any reason, my workout routine inevitably goes to poo. Try as I might to be consistent and to continue my previously established regimen, it just doesn't happen. Which means that I end up slacking for a few weeks and then climbing back up on the workout pony and trying to ride it into the station once again. Hmmm. Mixed metaphor anyone? Before I left the states, I competed in a 10k for the first time, for which I was super duper proud. I'm too scared of even contemplating a full marathon at this point, but after doing the 10k and feeling really good about it, I thought that maybe a half marathon was on my horizon. And then I moved to Korea. And I stopped running. I did other workouty things, but they were not the same. If you're a runner, you have to run. Taking a stroll through your new neighborhood followed by a cold beer does not cut it.

So, after being hard hit with homesickness recently and a generally crappy attitude, I started running again; if not for the exercise, then at least for the mental tweaking it inevitably gives me. Running here has been interesting. No one runs here. Outside, that is. There are races of every kind and length being held every weekend all over this country, so where are the runners? They're inside. At gyms. On treadmills. Treadmills drive me bonkers. I love running outside. It's more interesting....you get to see things, you get to feel super hardcore and toss your head at all the "lame walkers", and it allows you to explore a city in a totally different way than bussing, training, or driving would. But it is very odd to be the only person running on the streets. As I've complained about before, getting stuck at a crosswalk can be a four minute affair at least, and when you're running and trying to keep up the momentum, this means you have the pleasure of jogging in place for four minutes like a total tool, while the fashionable Korean gals stare at you and the boys don't know whether to mock or cat call. And then there's my running outfits. In the states, tank tops are a way of life. My running outfit usually was shorts and a tank top. Wearing that here seems to land me on the most wanted list for hussies. What I've heard (and seen) is that Korean women are perfectly fine showing leg (so much leg that bending over would lend everyone a view to the promised land), but not fine showing cleavage, clavicles, or shoulders. I get a lot of stares on my runs. I don't know quite what to attribute this to. Is it the fact that I'm a foreigner? Or that I'm wearing a tank top? Or that I'm running on the street instead of a gym? Or is it a combo of all three, and all these things and more that I don't even know make me an undeniable hussy? I can't figure it out.

So, there have been days when I feel like an absolute weirdo running here. And then there are times like the other day when an old man watched me running toward him, gaze unshifting, and just when I was about to start a feminist rant in my head about men staring and how frustrating and demoralizing it is and how no matter what country you're in, men treat you like pieces of meat, the old man broke out into a huge grin and started clapping and waving me onward, speaking words of encouragement that I couldn't quite understand but totally needed.