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After Master had taken the time to type out my training schedule (even though he hates to type and had already written it out) on his calendar stationary, complete with "아만다 1월 태권도 계획" splashed across the top, he found someone fairly close to me, a friend of his Haan Dong friend. I'll go to the studio Friday night. If I go there, it will be only 1 hour a night, a quarter more expensive, and sport a larger population of middle school, high school, and university students (whoa).
I was all set to work out on my own, but I'll check it out and see what I think of the class. It will only be for six weeks, and then maybe for another four in the summer. I know, that's a fifth of the year, but what can I do about it? Nothing.
At any rate, in three weeks (and that includes a week of doing nothing due to injury), my splits have gone from 69 to 71 inches. I'm standing and lowering myself into the splits, and Master lets me lean forward onto my hands, which tilts the hips and makes it possible to go lower. I'm sticking neon green duct tape to the floor with the dates on it. It feels good to see the new tape; it makes 2 inches seem bigger than it is.