Korean Gym

The day started like any other. I woke up at 9:30 and enjoyed a trip to my Korean gym. My gym is a good gym. The membership was very cheap, about $115 dollars for four months membership. I have to adjust the weights in my head, most are only labeled in kilograms. I usually have to move the pin on the machines all the way down. It makes me fell a lot stronger than I am. The treadmills are designed more for mild body toning than complete max-cal fat burn workout. There is no incline option! Instead I must go by time and speed to get a good workout. It has been like training a Clydesdale to run like an Arabian Stallion (Thanks Anne and David!).

But I am getting ahead of myself. I was hit by a truck today.


That’s right, I was hit by a truck.




Those have who have spoken to me are familiar with my opinion about the approach Koreans have to driving. Some have TV’s on their dashboards that they watch while the drive. Attention while driving, even appears to be a very low priority for some.

I never hesitate to ride in a car here. They are very skilled drivers. Only two car/motor bike accidents have been witnessed since my have arrived. I am just an odd foreign variable in a very sensitive (albeit chaotic) equation of vehicular and pedestrian travel. I come from a different society with different driving rules. A society that drives defensively, a society that doesn’t use traffic lanes to park, a society that slows down and looks both ways, and a society where red really means STOP. Regrettably also a society that texts while driving.

At 11:56 am a truck came pouring out of an ally way while I was biking home. He did not stop for the sidewalk. He did not stop for any cars that may have been coming. Eventually he stopped for me.

In the two seconds prior to collision, the surrounding Koreans (men, women children) did not need a translator to understand the terrible English that poured from my mouth. Some words are universal.

Peter 1, truck 0.

He put on the brakes but not soon enough! My arm took off his mirror, and my left shoulder and torso left its mark on the front of his vehicle (my broad Grecian shoulder and sturdy bike handlebar taking the brunt of the blow). My bike was fine, my body was ok.

I repeat (Mom Dad) I AM OK. I AM OK!!!

The driver was very polite, but terrified (I was told Koreans here are just as sue happy as us Americanos). Aside from extremely mild whiplash and body tightness ( Like a jungle cat, my whole body becomes tense and readies for action during trauma) I feel fine. After all, the mind sometimes takes longer to get over these things!

I felt healthy enough to ride my bike to work and hour and a half later. Of course, I looked a little like a scared rabbit the whole way there!

p.s. Mom, Dad, I’m OK!