Azimut pumped out fifteen pull ups before finally letting himself drop to the ground and yielding the bar to me so that I could do the same – albeit in a much less impressive manner.
I struggled to do about half as many pull ups before I let myself drop back down too.
“Sorry, man. You’re a little better at this than me.”
“It OK. It normal.”
I could live with normal. Normal is better than bad.
It was a really nice, cool morning and, even though I wasn’t quite matching the lifting pace, I was feeling good having just finished a run through town.
Azimut, my host brother, is here visiting from his home in Batken Oblast in the South Western part of the country for a little while. Because Azimut speaks some English, he is the designated translator between me and the rest of the family when important things come up so we had spoken on the phone a few times before actually meeting this week.
He is a good guy, about my age, and is serving the military. Next month he’ll be getting married which I am really looking forward to. It’s going to be one hell of a party.
It’s been fun to have him around. Between his English and my Kyrgyz we are able to have some pretty fluid conversations. As much as I enjoy (and am in need of) practicing Kyrgyz, it’s really nice to have a break from the difficulty and just have an easy conversation once in a while.
After making very clear that Azimut is in better shape than me for another half hour or so, the two of us jogged back to the house waving at neighbors as we went by. Not a bad way to start the day.
Update: I am really sore.