My host-mom isn't hard to please. As long as I try whatever food she makes, she's happy. If she finally drags it out of me that I don't like something after I shovel down as much of whatever it is as I can without looking in too much pain, she goes in the kitchen and makes me a whole new meal of 3 huge fried pork fillets and french fries without fail. Not to mention the fresh bread that's already always on the table.
To counteract this carb and fat overload, I began running yesterday. My 2ish miles on the treadmill yesterday weren't bad. In fact, I'm starting to think they were kilometers. My 2+ miles outside today were brutal.
Gotta get that beach body for when I come home and never go to the beach.
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