Ever since my laptop went frup (the definition ‘laptop crash’  would imply an impressive noise and/or sound effect, and since my laptop just went to bed and decided to not wake up, I will only dignify it with frup), I’ve been kicking myself in the head for not backupping (verb?) more stuff from my laptop. It also contained a diary of sorts I’ve been keeping. But the nice thing is that now I can start another one. I have been running. A lot. I’d say for a bit more than a year now, sometimes taking a break because my ankle is disagreeing with me, but when I can, I have been running. Two weeks ago my big brother and I had a fun 10km race through the center of Utrecht, and now he starting to loosely plan for half a marathon on the 31st of December, and I will loosely plan along with him. The training for it started yesterday, with an 8km run, which normally should not be a problem. Yet yesterday, I was struggling. My legs had cement in them, my breathing was off, I had steek (English translation anyone?), my knees were hurting, my ankle was unhappy, and just to keep me feeling like a stinky bag of potatoes, two flies entered my eyeballs, one in each. The ironic thing is that I have been trying to live so healthily here, and this is what I get. I am trying not to draw any seemingly logical conclusions to let myself return to unhealthy habits… There! The diary has begun. Twelve weeks. 500km of training to run 21,1km. Sounds a bit exaggerated, no? Another 8km today.