Bootcamp: I didn't realize we were in Tokyo!

Ever done "Japanese Sit-ups"?

I did 20 of 'em today and am not quite sure how I feel about it, though my inner thighs are screaming "no, no NOOOOOOoooooo, Dear God, NOOOOOOO! Please don't make us go back there!!!"

Picture it-- partner sit-ups, like in this video:

only when you come up from your back, you fully stand up before going back down. Stand. Up. Vertically. It's a momentum-based affair for sure, and it plays a game of rapid destruction on your thighs (or at least on my thighs).

Something tells me that if you do these on a regular basis, you could get in shape fairly quickly. In the same vein, you might also DIE.

Today was a day of some near-major achievement: I made it almost all the way across the first set of monkey bars.

That's right! I just about achieved something 14,000,000 seven-year-olds do everyday. Dare to dream, my friends. Dare to dream.

So with calloused hands (I'm going to have to tape my hands under the gloves) and broken thighs, I got onto the F train and headed home, exhausted yet invigorated.

At Jay St, just two short stops from mine, a veritable gaggle of children piled into the car, screaming and flailing (ever realize how much pre-adolescents flail? It's dangerous to be seated near them), knocking into my book and generally crowding me and making me nervous. Some sort of field trip gone horribly awry before they even reached their destination. I switched cars at Bergen, and as I was walking off the car and another woman was about to get on I mumbled to her "Um, there's like a bunch of children in that car." She followed me into the last car, opting for whatever quiet the train can provide sans middle-schoolers.

I can be as invigorated as the day is long, I'll never be able to deal with screaming pre-teens before copious amounts of coffee.