And We Become

Silhouettes when our bodies finally go . . .

I awoke this morning, heavy-eyed yet immediately anxious over the events that were about to transpire on this ignored Easter in our tiny corner of the world we call Shanghai.

Where are my running clothes? Did they dry overnight? Don't forget the ipod. Its behind the TV. Should I risk bringing my camera?

After a half-hour of pacing about, putting things in bags, taking them out, putting some more things in, doing a little pantomime of stretching -- it was out the door, camera in hand, hurtling to JinQiao to begin the process of running the longest distance I have ever run.


These oddly white things (not so white anymore) replace what was once a frame, handlebars, wheel set, component group, etc. Running, unlike cycling, is a sport for minimalists.

I refused to brush my hair as I was getting ready (why should I?), so forgive the mess on top of my head. I have found that the smallest amount of coffee supplied caffeine helps me to push through and keep energy on my shorter runs, so I started the morning with a helping of Starbucks.


And there is nothing like McDonald's for pre-race food. Turns out, it treated me allright. I think it was the easily digested egg-protein. Or, that's what I will choose to rationalize this deicison.


Getting to the race was less than fun, and halfway through we began asking ourselves how much a cab could have possibly cost. Certainly not more than the pain of a three line transfer during rush hour (yes, there is a rush hour here on Sunday).

I was honestly astounded once we arrived at the venue (after a comical shuttle bus experience from the metro). There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of runners of every level rushing about, putting on numbers, making playlists for ipods, taking pictures, trying to find friends. Soon, we too were in the mix; putting on our numbers, exchangeing shirt sizes, taking pictures, storing our things, doing what we could for a warm up.




I was pretending. I look a whole lot less cool when I run . . . more pain, less comedic irony.

The race was scheduled to start at 9:45. We meandered over to the start finish area, and lined up well toward the back. No sense in being trampled by the people who had goals for themselves higher than "not walking". I shuffled through my ipod, looking for that perfect selection for the morning. I ended up choosing the Postal Service. I cued it to the song I wanted to start running to (The District Sleeps Alone Tonight) and waited for some sign that the race had begun.

Faster than I knew, the start gun made its hollow crack, and we were off. Some people moved up, some others fell back, and soon enough everyone settled into their own pace. This was my first run in a large group, and I found something really moving about it. Something cooperative and soothing. A flow of energy existed that was beyond force or control. What was a slew of disorganized individuals soon became one mass moving forward. Always moving forward. Heads bobbing. Feet pit-pattering on the pavement. I look forward to repeating this experience in the future.

I started off well, and the first kilometer went by without much pain at all. My breathing was full and consistent, no cramping in my sides or abdomin, a long steady stride. I felt my heart rate steadily rise, and resisted the temptation to follow along with runners that were clearly faster. However, as the kilometers piled up, my body began to feel the confusion of what I was asking it to do.

Where are the pedals, it whined? Why is the cadence so low and the impact so high? Why is our upper-body jostling all around. For the past four years, my body has been trained for cycling.

Get over it I said. We are doing something new now. Trying it out. Do your best.

It yearned to get kitted-up and hop on a swift and agile bike when we ran past the Specialized store. I fingered my bank card in my back pocket. No, something new, I told it.

Some cramping in my stomach and heavy legs slowed me down, but I kept on running. That was my goal. Run, no matter what. I ran though the water station, doused myself in cool liquid and drank as much as I could without adding to the stomach cramps.

I had lost track of how far I had run. I had no idea how much remained and I was feeling lost in a sea of people passing and rarely passing anyone. I focused on the two feet in front of me; putting one in front of the other, in front of the other. That got me through until the 6k sign, which breathed new life into my legs and lungs. My stride widened, I passed many of those people back. I was on my way to the finish.

And finish I did. Without stopping. Without walking. In decent time. Mission accomplished.

I ended up finishing 212 out of what Nicole thought to be nearly 1,000 women. My time was under my set goal of 50 minutes; roughly 47 or 48.

Best of all, I really enjoyed the experience, and actually look forward to doing another 5k or 8k. Maybe I can even work myself up to a half-marathon. In time, everything in time.

I got a medal! (Okay, everyone got a medal)

Brian and Stephanie

Mmmmm! Delicious, delicious recovery food.

I am now in my bed, just having awoke from a 2-hour nap and eating the rest of that pasta. Best part of exerting yourself -- the rest and recovery after!

Zaijian!