The Joy of Grocery Shopping

I enjoy looking at, shopping for, and ordering food. I take my time when reading a menu, even if I've been to the same restaurant a dozen times before and  know exactly what I'm going to get. I read and re-read the descriptions of the dishes. I don't toss a flyer away before studying every food item that is advertised. I will saunter through a farmer's market with no intention of actually spending money. But the food/shopping experience that I enjoy most of all is a trip to the grocery store.


I usually begin my adventure in the middle of the store where all the boxes, cans, jars, and other packaged goods are kept. Little of what I purchase comes from this section, but I still enjoy browsing over the various products; looking at their interesting package designs. I'll pick up some tomato sauce, canned corn, green tea, peanut butter, canned mackerel, and any spices that I'm running low on before moving on.


After that I make my way towards my favorite part of the building; the produce section. It's the natural colors that draw me in. Every shade of the rainbow is represented and it's all beautifully arranged. It's as if I'm walking through art. Once I descend from the initial aesthetic wonder, I begin adding items to my cart. As I pick up the different vegetables I think about the nutrients they contain. Red cabbage for the anthocyanin polyphenols, carrots for the beta-carotene, garlic for the allicin. I know and appreciate how these nutrients will nourish my body and mind.


I enjoy thinking about the meals I could create with all of the options that are in front of me. "Maybe I'll make a broccoli salad with slivered almonds and dried cranberries. What about mixing grated carrots with pineapple chunks, raisins, and coconut? I could make a stir-fry with these bell peppers, sugar snap peas, and some ginger. Hmm..."


I'll then walk towards the seafood section. "Wow! Those salmon steaks look incredible. They'd taste amazing with some creamy dill sauce." Next comes the meat and poultry. I look at the package of skinless chicken breast as a blank canvas for me to paint on. Finally I'll go down the frozen food aisle and pick up some anti-oxidant rich blueberries.


I pay for the groceries and leave the building happy. I just bought a bunch of art supplies and now it's time to create. I'll then get the added joy of being able to eat what I made.


After putting away the groceries I feel an ancestral contentment. I have food. For the time being, everything is fine. I do realize just how far removed I am from the true experience. I didn't gather or grow any of the vegetables or slaughter and butcher any of the animal flesh I just purchased conveniently from a store, but the feeling remains.

A typical grocery haul.

Teaching in Korea

I have been teaching English in South Korea since July of 2010. Both of my parents are teachers and I have always had a great respect for this profession. Here I will describe the good, bad, and ugly sides of my experience, placed in reverse order because I like ending on a positive note.


The Ugly


I work in a private school ("hagwon" in Romanized Korean) and I've often been made very aware that I'm working for a business. Education certainly takes a back seat to profit at our academy. The principal has zero teaching experience, but that doesn't prevent her from being hyper-critical of what she views as mistakes made by the teachers. She is a very proud woman that does not want to be questioned. She has fired teachers for frivolous reasons and has burned many bridges. Unsurprisingly, the Korean teacher turnover rate is very high at our school.


The Bad


Korean children are worked incredibly hard. Every second that they aren't taking lessons is viewed as a waste by their demanding and competitive parents. "Teacher Greg, my didn't do homework. Very busy. Me go elementary school. Then piano school. Now Englishee academy. Next science hagwon. My go taekwondo after. So, so, so, sooo tired." I'm thinking, "God damn. How are you still alive?"


This is more of an observation on Korean culture in general than their education system specifically, but there are no sick days here. I'm still looking for them. They've got to be out there. If you miss work, you had better be having surgery performed on you. Then once you're stitched up, it's time to go back. I'm being factitious, but only slightly. Working while ill demonstrates dedication, hard work, and loyalty to your colleagues, boss, and company. The students too will rarely miss school due to sickness. They're sent coughing, sneezing, puking, and wiping snot over everything they touch, spreading their germs to anyone near by. 


The Good


With that bit of negativity out of the way, I'll now share the brighter side of my experience and describe what caused me to renew my contract. 


The bond that I've created with my students is something that I hold very dear. During the week I spend more time with some of them than they do with their parents. I feel that we have grown quite close. I am very aware that I'm in a position where I'm able to have a great influence on their development as human beings. This responsibility is something that I take with extreme seriousness. I try my best to encourage curiosity of the world around them, cooperation with those they interact, and confidence in themselves. I tell them that I love them and I mean it with every bit of my heart. 


Normally, teaching contracts here are for one year. I was asked to renew mine for an additional eight months so that I would stay until the end of their school year. It wasn't long before I had made my decision. I was enjoying my time too much to say "no". 


Even if it's comes gradually, I love to watch their abilities expand and develop. I'm constantly amazed by how much they know. I hope that I've taught them well. I know that I've learned a few lessons from them. They've increased my patience and forced me to become a better listener. They've also really helped me take myself less seriously. I now understand that it's O.K. to (sometimes) act like a goof in front of others. Life can be very fun. After spending so much time with children, the realization that I am most grateful for is of how strongly my desire to be a father is. I cannot envision a future without children of my own.


All of my students are special to me, but admittedly there are a few that I feel particularly close to. One cute, little girl named Amy likes to give me hugs and hold my hand. She's mischievous, but it's so damn adorable that I let it slide. She has yet to develop the confidence to speak out as often as her classmates, but she always writes little notes for me. During one class while printing something on the board, I turned around to find her crying. She looked absolutely devastated. "Amy, what's the matter?" I asked crouching down beside her. She showed me her broken pencil case. It wasn't actually broken at all. The lid had just snapped out of place. I quickly fixed it and gave it back to her. I'll never forget the look on her face. Later on I saw her writing on a small piece of paper. As I was knelt down beside another student, I felt a little hand slip a note into my shirt pocket. I turned around and saw Amy dash back to her seat. I pulled out the note. It read, "Thank you Teacher Greg for fixing my pencil case. I like you Teacher Greg. If you go to Canada I am sad. Love Amy." 

Amy and I.

The student that I feel strongest about is a boy named Alex, the son of the principal at my school. Alex was here when I arrived. I was my school's first foreign teacher and he was my first student. When he graduated from my kindergarten class in February 2011, the principal asked if I would continue teaching him privately during two of the afternoon classes. I happily agreed. 


Alex has a difficult time interacting with other students. He can be very impatient and quick to anger. I feel his great frustration but I'm unsure of the exact reason behind it. He likes to play alone. He tells me that other students are too noisy. In many ways Alex reminds me of myself. 


During our classes together, he really enjoys talking about the newest scientific material he's learned about. He's fascinated by topics such as space, magnets, robots, and time travel. I combined the topics he loved discussing then wrote and illustrated a book for him. It took me several months, but I was happy with the finished product. The story was about a boy that wanted to relive his previous school year (something that Alex wanted), so he built a spaceship to search for a worm hole that would take him back in time. Along the way the hero encounters aliens who just so happen to speak perfect English. I wasn't aiming for scientific accuracy. 

The end result of months of work.

I remember the day that I gave the story book to him. "For me?" he asked. I nodded. He held the book with arms outstretched and then carefully set it down on the table. He sat in his chair. He gently turned the first page and gazed at the illustration. After he had seen each picture he looked up to me and said, "I think this book is the number one book in Korea." Hearing him say that was worth every single hour I spent making it. 


For a seven year old, Alex is remarkably deep. One unfortunate day his rabbit ate grass that had been sprayed with pesticide. It died from the poison. Later on, Alex began asking questions regarding death. I told him how I had felt when my grandfather died. "Teacher Greg, when you a grandfather and you almost die, I want to cut me in half and give you half my energy so that you don't die. O.K.?" 


Jesus.


Alex has known for a little while now that I will be leaving at the end of this month. He has asked me a few times, "Teacher Greg, you can stay in Korea one more time?" I told him that it's been very long since I last saw my family, but that I'll write letters to him and show him around British Columbia if he ever gets the chance to visit. Saying goodbye to Alex is going to be one of the most difficult things I'll ever have to do. 


My teaching experience here has been overwhelmingly positive. There have been bumps along the way, but I'm sure that's true for most jobs. I've learned so much about myself and life during my stay and I've formed memories that I will carry with me for the rest of my days. 

My Coming Out Story

This is the story of how I overcame the greatest challenge I've ever faced. It's quite personal and I've shared bits and pieces of it with those close to me, but here it is in its entirety. 


I knew from an early age that I was different, but it wasn't until puberty when I realized exactly how. "Ohhh, that's what's wrong with me." It was a dreadful revelation. I already had a difficult time relating to and being comfortable around my peers. Now, any hope I had of that happening lay shattered before me. 


Growing up, my only understanding of what it meant to be gay came from the outrageously flamboyant characters seen on T.V. Unfailingly, I felt that they were portrayed as weak and ridiculous; there simply for comic relief. I believed that if people found out I was gay that I would never be taken seriously. "They'll think I'm a joke."


I made every effort to block my feelings and deny who I was. "I'm not gay. I just haven't been with a girl yet. When I do, I will realize just how wonderful the female body is." Yes, this is really how I thought. I spent countless unsuccessful hours trying to convince myself that I wasn't who I was. I've always been pretty good at finding solutions to problems; being able to work hard to complete an objective. It frustrated the hell out of me knowing that this dream of becoming straight was unattainable. I would pray to God every night to take away the pain. I wanted to be "normal" with every fiber of my being.


For several years I planned on always keeping this part of me a secret. I had full intentions of eventually meeting a woman and faking a relationship, marriage, and love. "When I start dating and then get married, my secret will be safe." My thoughts were so twisted. As I matured I realized how incredibly selfish this mentality was. I could never betray an innocent person like that. It was then that accepted that I would always be alone. 



The words "gay" and "fag" were thrown around often and carelessly by the kids at school. "What a gay test." "That teacher is such a faggot." Nine times out of ten these words weren't used to mean "homosexual". They meant "awful", "annoying", "weak", and "unwanted". Hearing these words used in this way was a persistent assault on my self-esteem. "Remember Greg, all the other guys think that what you are is awful, annoying, weak, and unwanted. You cannot allow them to find out." My confidence was non-existent.


I still sometimes hear the word "gay" used to convey the meaning of "bad". When I hear it in this way, it no longer hurts me personally. I have managed to establish self-worth that is independent from the opinions of others. I just hope those that continue to use the word in a negative way, realize that there may be some young gay kid listening and they just took a shot at their soul. 



I watched as my friends began to date others of the opposite sex. Soon they all had experience in relationships. I felt extreme nervousness whenever the conversation turned to girls, dating, or sex. "What are they going to ask me? Are they going to try to find out if there's someone I like? Are they going to question why I haven't dated anyone or why I don't enjoy talking about girls?" I could never relax. 


I had little desire to socialize due to the stress I felt whenever I did. I would avoid gatherings and parties. I wouldn't answer the phone when my friends called. I was in a self-imposed exile. I thought that the closer I grew to others, the harder it would be to come out to them. I believed that things would be easier if I had the opportunity to start fresh with new people. 


During the entire final year of high school, I dreaded the thought of prom night. I felt very pressured to attend, but that meant that I would need a (female) date. I believed that I was already viewed as a loser. I didn't want to add to that reputation by going alone. "So Greg, who are you taking to prom?" I was asked several times by different people. "Oh, I'm not sure yet." I didn't want to deal with this problem and I avoided it for as long as I could. During the month of graduation I asked a neighbor and friend if she would go with me, but it was too late. She was already going with somebody else. A couple of days before the big night, I was playing cards with some friends when one of them said, "Greg, I know that you still don't have a date. There's a girl that would go with you, but you'll have to do the asking." I was relieved. I knew a little bit about her. She was a friend of my friend's girlfriend, a year younger, pretty, and sweet.


I can't remember, but it was either the day before or morning of prom night when I asked her over the phone if she would go with me. Poor girl. I sat in my room beside the phone for several hours rehearsing what I would say. When I eventually called, my voice was shaky and I tripped over my words a few times. I was so thankful that she agreed to go with me on such short notice. This was supposed to be one of the most enjoyable days of my young life, but all that I could feel was despair. I so wanted to be comfortable and confident enough to bring a guy to prom, but that reality just wasn't possible. 


I bought my date dinner. It was the least that I could do. Together with some friends we went to a house party with the plan of having a couple drinks before heading to prom. I had barely stepped foot inside the house when I heard, "Greg's here! Greg's drinking! "Pour him a shot!" Social gatherings and alcohol were two things that I generally avoided, and it looked like the other guys were not going to waste this rare opportunity to get me drunk. I stupidly drank everything that I was handed. I didn't care. I wanted to dull my feelings and escape from the overwhelming hopelessness. 


I woke up on a hospital bed. My father was looking down at me as a nurse removed an IV needle from my wrist. I was terrified and confused. "What happened?" I asked. "Well Greg, you had a little too much to drink last night," said the nurse. My dad spoke very little, but his disappointment was suffocating. The nurse put on a band-aid where the needle had been. "Promise me that I will never find you like this again," she said. I was disgusted with myself. "I promise," I said holding back tears.


The ride home was torturous. What I wanted most in life was to make my parents proud, but I had just let them down in such a devastating way. When we got home, my mom was waiting at the top of the stairs. I couldn't bear to see the look on her face. I grabbed a bucket and went to my room. The head throbbing and vomiting were welcomed distractions from my very depressing thoughts. "If I drank just a little more I could have died... why couldn't I have drank just a little more." 


There had been a handful of days when the despair that filled me felt too great a burden to bear, but this was certainly my lowest point. I seriously contemplated ending it all. I had previously researched how to go out quick and painlessly. I had already written my goodbye letter. All that was stopping me was the pain that I knew I would cause my mother when she discovered my lifeless body. 


I was still deep inside the closet two years after graduating high school. Several people from my hometown went to the same university as I did. I found it too difficult to come out when surrounded by so many people that knew me. At the end of two years at that school, I transferred. I told people that I needed to go to a school near the Pacific Ocean since that's where I grew up, but the real reason was because I wanted to be alone. I packed my bags and bought a bus ticket. I intended on severing all contact with my friends and that's exactly what I did. Someday when I return to Canada, I'd really like to reconnect with them. They were a great group of people. I was just too uncomfortable with myself. 


I didn't know anyone in the new city, but that's what I wanted. I felt that I had momentarily escaped the questioning. I think my isolation was needed. It gave me the opportunity to analyze my feelings and decide how I wanted to proceed with them. 


There are several stages to coming out. I was long over denial. Even if I was unhappy about it, I had accepted the fact that I was gay for several years now. During the period of reclusiveness and introspection was when I realized that there was nothing wrong about being gay. I believed what really helped me was reading the online stories of other gay men on how they overcame their challenges. I watched a number of YouTube videos of gay couples with their children. It warmed my heart and gave me hope. I've always wanted to start a family of my own one day, but for so long I believed that wasn't possible. It was nice to have video proof that it was. I gradually became happy with who I was. I told myself that one day I would date, fall in love, and marry someone that I wanted to be with. The darkness that shrouded my future began to lift. 


After I completed my degree I spent a couple months living at home before heading to Korea. I knew that this was the time to tell my family. I was unsure of the next time I would see them. For the past several months I had been exchanging e-mails and calls with another gay guy. He offered his time and advice. Coming out to my family would have been much more difficult without his support. 


For several nights in a row I planned on telling my mom. It would eventually get too late and I would tell myself, "Tomorrow." Finally one night well past midnight, I was downstairs sitting with her as she prepared school lessons for the next day. As she got up to leave for bed I said, "Mom, can I talk to you." I motioned for her to sit down beside me. "What's the matter?" she asked. I felt as if she knew what I was about to say. I grabbed her hand and held it tight. Every second felt like an eternity. "Mom, I'm gay." It was so hard for me to get those words out. Forever passed as I waited for her reaction. I had years to come to terms with this aspect of myself. I knew that she would also need time to process this information. "That's alright. That's fine," she finally said. "I love you, Greg." She asked a few questions, but for most of the next hour we spent silently holding one another. 


I told my younger sister next. I found it easier to tell the women in my family than the men."Wait, I'm confused. Does this mean that you don't like girls?" I smiled and gave her a hug. I remember my dad's jaw literally dropping when I told him, but he also took it very well. "You're a good guy and I just want you to be happy," he told me. I felt so relieved. 


The last person I told in my family was my younger brother. I have always had great admiration for him, oftentimes bordering on outright jealously. He never had a shortage of good friends. It was as if people lined up to be near him. He had a confidence in social situations that I couldn't even comprehend. Regrettably, I took a lot of anger out on him due to envy and self-pity. After one particularly harsh exchange of words, we didn't speak to one another for a couple of years. When I told him that I was gay he appeared completely cool. We didn't hug then, but we did before I left for Korea. "I'm proud of you, man. Now go live life." Those were the most healing words that anyone has ever told me.


Coming out to the friends I've made in Korea was painless. Homosexuality is a very taboo subject here and I'm not out to the Koreans that I work with. But outside of work I'm not hiding who I am, although neither am I (consciously) broadcasting the fact that I'm gay.


As I alluded to before, my greatest regret in life is that growing up, I took out so much of my anger and frustration on my family members. I loathed myself so intensely and too often would this hatred pour out of me like water from a broken dam. I said and did some awful things to the people I love most. I begged for their forgiveness and was fortunate to receive it.


As difficult as this experience was for me, there is still much to be thankful for. Although I was terrified of disappointing my parents, I never really doubted their love once they found out. I never worried about being abandoned. And unlike gay people in some unfortunate areas, I never feared execution. Comparatively, I had it pretty easy. 


If you offered me while growing up, a pill that would make me straight, I wouldn't hesitate taking it. Now, absolutely not. It's not that I'm proud of being gay. It's that I'm finally happy with who I am. Looking back, I'm grateful that I went through that torment. It has given me an appreciation for and perspective on life that I doubt I would have if I never experienced that darkness. I spent too many years paralyzed with fear. Now that the giant boulder has been lifted off my shoulders, I can finally navigate this journey unhindered. I will live my life the way that I want to. Never again will I allow fear to control me as it did. 

Why I Take Cold Showers

For over a year and a half now, I've taken a cold shower (often two) every single day. I've read several articles extolling the benefits of cold showers. You'll save money by using less energy, it helps maintain the health of your skin and hair, it improves circulation, stimulates brown adipose tissue, relieves depression, increases testosterone, and boosts immunity. But these are all superfluous when compared to the main reason why I shower with cold water:


Cold showers build mental toughness. Hot water is a luxury that I don't want to become too attached to. I want to push the limits of my comfort levels. Cold showers have certainly helped me deal with daily physical discomforts.

Polar Bear Swim in January. Not as cold as a cold shower.

Even after taking hundreds of them, I have yet to get used to cold showers. I'm not sure if I ever will. I know what to expect, but I'm always a little hesitant before the cold water hits my skin. My body immediately reacts with panic. "Get out! Get out! Get out!" I tell it that it is fine, and it will be over soon. Once the initial shock subsides, it really isn't that bad. Relief floods my body once I turn off the water. For the next 10-15 minutes I'm in a different state of mind; vitalized yet calm, ready to take on the challenges that may lie ahead. It's a great way for me to begin my day. When I do encounter a difficulty, I will often remind myself of how I overcame the cold shower I took that morning. I'm fortunate to being living a life in which the vast majority of my daily stresses and struggles aren't as formidable as frigid water.

Making the Effort to be Happy

I am of the belief that we have a tremendous influence on our personal levels of happiness. Of course there are events outside of our control that affect this state, but I believe for the most part, how I feel is my responsibility. If I want to be happy, I must make an effort to be so.


Below I will describe the things I do in order to maximize the happiness I experience.


1. Exercise

I'm sure it doesn't matter what I do as long as my body finds it taxing, but right now I run and do calisthenics. The "runner's high" is no joke. It's intensely gratifying and addicting. There's also a satisfaction gained knowing that I'm doing something beneficial for my health. When exercising, I track my progress to ensure that I push myself harder and farther than before. I also think that staying fit helps to avoid much worry, mental energy that I can use far more productively. 

2. Eating Well & Taking Vitamins/Supplements

This point ties in with the first as they are both about taking care of my body in order to achieve a more positive mental state. For as long as I can remember, I have loved vegetables. I never gave my mom much trouble during meals. I liked how vegetables tasted, their different textures, the colors. I still enjoy vegetables for these reasons, but now I like them primarily due to their power to heal and nourish my body. 

Almost every evening I will eat a giant bowl of salad, often consisting of spinach/lettuce, a tomato, a cucumber, a pepper, red cabbage, and mushrooms. I'll usually follow that with a bowl of kimchi. After that I may fry up some onions and garlic, then munch on some carrot sticks or a couple stalks of celery. I really enjoy fruit too, but I consume fewer of them than I do vegetables because they are often loaded with sugar. I like apples and blueberries. I eat both at almost every breakfast. 

I make sure that I eat a lot of protein so that my body has the material to repair damaged and build new tissue. I get my protein primarily from chicken, fish, and eggs. I tend to avoid eating large amounts of quick digesting carbohydrates, except on the day before and of strenuous exercise. Once I start eating bread, fries, or pizza, it is difficult for me to stop. Soon after the sugar spike comes the insulin and sugar crash. I try to avoid that feeling. I've discovered that the fewer chocolate bars, cake, and ice-cream I consume, the sweeter foods like carrots and bell peppers become.

Some bibimbap that I made. It has rice, bean sprouts, carrots, cucumbers, 

spinach, mushrooms, pork, egg, and hot pepper paste.

In addition to eating massive amounts of vegetables, lots of protein, and some fruit, I supplement my diet with what I believe are important nutrients, primarily Vitamin D and Omega-3 fatty acids. I've read several dozen articles describing the health benefits of these two; everything from boosting your immunity, building strong bones and muscles, strengthening cardiovascular function, and preventing cancer among others. But the benefit I enjoy the most is mental boost they provide. I feel that I'm quite in-tune with my body and I do notice a significant difference between when I'm taking these supplements with when I'm not. With these added nutrients, I feel more focused, motivated, and have a more positive outlook on life. It may be just a placebo (something I highly doubt), but at this point I do not care. Will the placebo make me feel better? It will? Well then, placebo please. 

3. Quality Time with Family

My family means everything to me. Right now I'm thousands of miles away from home, but rarely does a weekend pass without a 2+ hour conversation with my parents on Skype. With each year I feel that I grow closer to them. I am so grateful for their support, guidance, and lessons learned while growing up. They are remarkable people and I am extremely lucky to have been raised by them. I truly believe that I could work for 1000 lifetimes and still be in their debt. 

I don't have the chance to speak to my sister and brother nearly as often, but I love the times that we do. My sister is so sweet and caring. I find that she often doubts herself, but she's much smarter and more talented than I think she realizes. My brother is unquestionably the coolest guy I know. He's quick-witted and hilarious. Growing up I was often envious of his magnetic personality. I'm so thankful to have a siblings. When I'm old and decrepit, it is only with these two that I will be able to share most of my childhood memories. By the time I return home, over two years will have passed since I last saw them in-person. I plan on spending as much time with them as they are willing to handle. 

4. Setting Goals


I'm a very future-oriented guy and I find myself constantly seeking new ways to improve in all aspects of my life. I want to be better tomorrow than I am today. One of my greatest fears is stagnation. I want to be challenged and I love the feeling that comes once a goal has been realized. If the aspiration is particularly grand, I will break it down into a series of achievable tasks. This prevents me from becoming discouraged, granting me a much higher probability of success.

5. Being Creative

By "creative" I don't mean, "artistically skilled." I mean taking an idea in my mind and bringing it into existence. The creative urge is something I find very primal. I receive deep satisfaction knowing that I took a thought and some random materials and produced something that wasn't previously there. I enjoy painting, writing, and cooking, but there are so many ways that you can be creative: playing an instrument, gardening, carpentry, singing, knitting, drawing, sculpting, making videos, the list goes on. I feel that a large part of my humanity would be stripped away if I were no longer able to create. 

I like to paint.

6. Introspection

I've kept a journal at different times throughout my life. Invariably when I do, my mind is less cluttered and I'm better able to achieve my goals. I've made at least weekly entries in my journal since I arrived in Korea. I've found journal writing to be a fantastic way to analyze my thoughts and feelings and compare them with what I was doing at the times they occurred. I may think I know what makes me happy or unhappy, but I believe it's invaluable to have an actual written record. Writing helps me discover solutions to the problems I have. It provides me the opportunity to examine negative thoughts and emotions, and then design strategies to overcome them. If nothing else, I know these recorded memories will be worth their weight in gold to me when I'm older.

7. Putting Things in Perspective

When I encounter daily stresses I try to compare the experience with scenarios, real or imagined, that are far more serious. For example, if I find a note on my desk saying that there will be an unscheduled meeting after work, I imagine myself complaining to a father that just lost his job, trying to find the money to support his family. I really dislike to hear myself complain. I don't believe that I've worked hard or struggled long enough to have earned that right. I know that even during a terrible day, when I'm an old man approaching death, I would probably do almost anything for the opportunity to relive it. Putting things in perspective has helped me deal with stress and forced me to become more grateful.  

8. Gratitude

I make a great effort to not take the blessings in my life for granted. Not a day passes where I don't remind myself how fortunate I truly am. I am thankful for my physical well-being. This body that I've found myself in is an incredible tool. When I consume nutritious foods I think about how they are healing it, making me feel more energized and alive. I'm grateful to have such a supportive and loving family. I feel blessed to have the opportunity to pursue my creative interests and work towards achieving my goals. This life I have is a gift and I'm going to make damn sure that I do not waste it.

Distance Running

A hobby that I have taken on during my time in Korea has been running. Prior to coming here, I only occasionally ran. I ran in gym class and a few times during some summers, but I much preferred to get my cardio from jumping rope.


Some time in early 2011, I got an urge to run a half-marathon. (21.1km) I believed that completing such a long race in a foreign country would be a great achievement. I had never run any distance greater than half of a half-marathon, but I felt up to the challenge. During March, I ran a couple times every week. I didn't have a specific schedule, but each weekend the distance that I was able to run grew larger. I remember the day that I finally went for it and managed to run 22 km. "I did it," I thought. It took me forever and my legs ached, but I did it. At that moment I was proud of what I had accomplished, but the satisfaction I felt was short lived.


Soon after a voice in my head began telling me, "You only ran 22 kilometers. There are others that can run 2x, 3x, 4x, and more times farther. There are others that can run the same distance in half the time it took you." Disappointed by the fact that I was no longer proud of what I had achieved because I was comparing myself to others, I decided to take a break from running.


The subject of running came up while eating dinner with a friend several months later. I told her that I had run a little and that it was a dream of mine to complete a long distance race in a foreign country. "Why don't you? You have the perfect opportunity," she told me. I didn't really have an answer. "You're right," was all that I could say.


A couple of days later I received a message from another friend who had heard that I wanted to run a race. She told me about a marathon (42.2 km) that would take place along the demilitarized zone (DMZ) that lies between North and South Korea. The race was just over five weeks away and the longest distance that I had under my belt was the 22km I had run several months ago, but I was going to enter anyway.This was a dream race and the only person that could stop me from completing it was myself. I couldn't let that happen.


I began training that evening. I tested myself to gauge how much my fitness had declined. I was glad to discover that it wasn't significant. I had seen marathon training schedules online that were meant to take place over the course of several months. I didn't have that kind of time. I also read about the importance of a weekly long run; a slow run designed to improve endurance by training your muscles to store more glycogen and use your fat reserves more effectively. That weekend I ran 17 km. The next weekend I ran 22 km. Then 27 km on the third and finally a dreadful 32 km on the fourth. At the end of that run and for the next several days, my lower half was destroyed. My muscles were stiff, my hip and knee joints felt ground up, my ankles were rubbed raw, and the soles of my feet were covered with blisters. I had put much more mileage on my legs in a shorter amount of time than I had ever done before and I was really feeling it.


The marathon would occur in ten days, so I spent that time resting and stretching my sore legs. The training was over with and I felt that I had prepared myself as much as I could given the amount of time that I had. I was a little concerned that the marathon distance was 10 km greater than my longest long run, but I figured that even if I walked the last 10 km, I would be able to finish the race within the five hour time limit.


I remember the anticipation and nervousness I felt on the bus ride up to Cheorwon near the DMZ. During that trip I met many other runners, both novice and experienced. It was great to hear their stories and share their excitement and concerns. There was one worry in particular that I wouldn't leave my mind. Korea is very hot and humid during the summer and I had done all my training in the evening to avoid these factors as much as possible. But, the race would begin in the morning and end after lunch. I hadn't done any serious training during this time of day and that bothered me. I managed to convince myself that I would be fine. I knew that there would be plenty of aid stations along the course. I had done all my training runs (even the grueling 32 km one) with just a single bottle of Powerade. "Even if it's scorching," I thought, "I'll be able to replenish every 2 km or so. There weren't any aid-stations when I trained." 


I ate an extra big serving of rice the evening before the race and managed to sleep very well. I woke up early and began to mentally prepare myself for what I was about to do. I bandaged the vulnerable parts of my feet and ate a breakfast of bananas and digestive cookies. I felt calm and relaxed as I made my way to the starting point. I knew that I was just a few hours away from turning this great dream I had into a reality, something I seriously doubted was possible only a few months beforehand.

The walk to the race.

I made my way to the starting point and stood next to the 4 h 30 m pacesetters. I wasn't sure if I could keep up with them the entire way, but I knew that I shouldn't be much slower. My goal was to complete the race and anything under five hours would be great.


There were so many people. My heart began beating a little faster as the adrenaline started flowing. After a deafening countdown the race commenced. At first it was a little difficult trying to maneuver among so many runners, but once I found a clearing, I settled into a good pace. The course was very scenic, but there were constant reminders that we were running along a border between two countries that are still technically at war. During one stretch of the race, the wooded land on either side of me was fenced off with barbed wire and had signs that read, "DANGER! Land mines. Do not enter." I ran past military buildings both abandoned and in-use and saw hundreds of South Korean soldiers. Some of them were very friendly and would give the runners high-fives. Others carried rifles and made sure that we stayed on course.

Just a little running hazard.

I felt great after passing the half-way point. There is such a psychological boost that comes once you know that you've run more than what remains. But it was also around that time when it began to get very hot. I felt that the sun was tempting me to quit. I needed to stop at every aid-station for water which always proved interesting. The girls at the stations often appeared surprised to see a foreign runner. They would giggle and huddle together as they saw me approach. "Oooh! Handsome boy," the bravest ones would say to me. I'm not sure if I'm going to miss being complimented on my looks (re: white skin) by strangers once I leave this country.


At kilometer 30 I really slowed down and a few kilometers later I needed to walk. I quickly realized that brought little relief. At this point, walking was almost as painful as running. From kilometer 33 to 40 I alternated between hobbling and jogging. At one point I was passed by a woman that looked well into her 60's or early 70's. "Jesus Christ!" I thought as I watched her run ahead, unable to keep up. It was very humbling to have my ass kicked by someone several decades older than myself, but it was also very inspiring.


The will to finish was what carried me from kilometer 40 to the finish line. I was sunburnt and my legs felt as if they were encased in cement. "Holy shit! I'm going to make it," I told myself as I saw the finish line. People on either side of the road were cheering and cameramen from different newspapers and stations were taking pictures and video.


I looked at the time as I crossed the finish line. I was elated. My official time was 4:34:04; a time well under my five hour goal. Slightly delirious, I made my way to the tented area to pick up some snacks, juice, and a finisher's medal. I walked back to where I was staying and took off my shoes and socks to check out the damage I had done to my feet. It wasn't pretty. My face and body were caked in the salt of evaporated sweat. I showered and bandaged my feet. The mental high that I was experiencing felt incredible. This feeling would persist for the next several days. I was proud of what I had done. I had made a goal, trained hard, and completed it.


Once that good feeling began to wear off, I began thinking of what to do next. "If I can run a marathon, what else am I capable of?" A couple of months later I learned about a race that would be held in Busan, a city nearby. I decided to enter the half-marathon. The marathon I had run tested my endurance. I wanted this race to test my ability to maintain pace. During training I managed to work my way down to ~5 minutes/km. When I ran the half-marathon I was able to maintain this pace for the entire route. I finished the race in just over one hour and 45 minutes. Again, I was happy with what I had accomplished. I was faster than I ever was before.

At the half-marathon, sprinting towards the finish line.

In early January 2012 I looked online for one more race to complete while I was still in Korea. I was overjoyed to find out that one would be held in my Korean hometown on March 1st, only two days after I finished my teaching contract. "Running a marathon in Ulsan, the city I'll have lived in for the past 20 months, right before I leave it... I can't ask for anything better." 


It is now February. I ran 178 km in January and I plan on running a similar amount this month. My training is more intense and frequent than ever, but I feel that it's also smarter. I learned many lessons while training for the previous runs. I learned how to listen to my body. I know when to push myself and when to let-up. I have the potential to do much better on this upcoming race than I did on the first. I will have had longer to prepare, I'm more educated on the subject of distance running, I won't have to worry about the heat, and most importantly, I have previous experience.


I believe that I also have a much healthier mindset when it comes to competition. It's hard not to compare myself to others, but I know that I have to run my own race. There will always be someone that is faster and stronger. I feel that the only person I'm in a real competition with, is my past self. And I know that I can beat him.

2011 Wrap-up / Plans for 2012

It has been too long since my last post. Although I'm a little late, I figure that I should write a wrap-up of 2011 and discuss what I'm looking forward to in 2012.


This past year has been really positive for me. I believe that I've improved as a teacher and I feel much more confident in this role. I did some more travelling throughout Korea, highlights being my visits to Seoul and the trip to the DMZ. I learned more about Korean culture, ate some incredible food, and spent many hours practicing the language. (Although the results may suggest otherwise.) I've also met and become friends with some really cool and interesting people.


There were many firsts for me in 2011. In May, I paraglided for the first time. In July I dove with sharks. But the first that I'm most proud of is the marathon that I ran in September. It was certainly the greatest physical challenge that I've ever undertaken, but I'm so glad that I did it. I could write about all the things that I've learned about myself while training for and running a marathon, but I'll save that for another entry.


As great as 2011 was, I feel that 2012 will be far greater. I have some big travel and adventure plans lined up in the coming months. February will be the last month of my contract and the end my time here in Korea. (For the foreseeable future.) In March, I will be travelling throughout northern India. I'm registered for a marathon on April 7th at the Corbett National Park, a protected area for the endangered Bengal tiger. From April 10th to the end of June, I plan on being in Thailand. There I will learn how to SCUBA dive and join a Muay Thai training camp. I want to use my time in Thailand to get in the best physical condition of my life because in July I plan on running a marathon up the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. Running a marathon is challenging enough, but I think it would be neat to do one at an elevation of 2000-4000 meters. I will probably be heading home some time in July. I'm really looking forward to seeing and spending time with my family. I've been away from my family for the past 19 months and it's hard to describe how much I miss them.


It's impossible to predict the future and I'm aware that a terrible, unforeseen event could change all of my plans, but as of right now the next few months have the potential to be incredible and I'm so excited to have the opportunity to live them.


I know February will go by quickly. I have much planning and packing to do, visas to obtain, flights and accommodations to book, and goodbyes to say. I hope that in spite of the chaos that is bound to ensue, I manage to really enjoy and appreciate the time that I have left in Korea. It is almost over.


Greg