The rest of the story

I scanned the crowd in front of me... hundreds of heads bobbing, chatting, snapping photos and preparing for the gun to pop. I was looking for some of our crew who were sneaky and jockeyed for position in the middle of the swarm so as to get a better position out of the gate. I spotted everyone at some point, part of me jealous that I wasn't toeing the line with the elites that were expected to hit the podium. AL, our lone full marathon group member, had done just this and stood shoulder to shoulder with the eventual winners. He, however, wasn't a slouch. His top 50 finish was enough to justify his eagerness.

The experience of seeing the Great Wall of China for the first time was pretty amazing. It snaked up and down the surrounding mountains in all it's massive majesty. It looked in good condition  (hard to tell what was original and what pieces were manufactured/renovated/new) and was as daunting as I had imagined. Nonetheless, I looked up at the road leading to the wall and knew that I was, in many ways, running through history... my own, China's, and the world's.

The race itself was, however... well... not good in any sense.

To begin with, my eye was on fire. I'd attempted to put in my contacts in a hurry before leaving the hotel but my right eye just burned every time I tried. Assuming it was a fleck or dirt or something, I resolved myself to put them in at the race site. So, upon arrival and prior to my bathroom (mis)adventure, I tried again. Similar result, but there was no time and I though it would work itself out as the race went on. I hate running in my glasses. But boy, was I wrong. The eye kept burning and I was constantly leaking tears out of my eyes. It was hard to focus and see straight. Just as we neared the actual wall entrance, about 5kms up the hill toward the Wall, I got fed up. I snatched the lens from my eye and tossed it. Immediately I felt relieved and kept on going.

It was the correct decision, but this didn't make my life easier per se... the struggle simply changed.

Have you ever tried to go down EXTREMELY steep steps with a) only one eye open or b) with one contact lens in? I have. It's not fun. Depth perception pretty much disappeared. And if you've ever seen how steep/irregular/sketchy the Great Wall steps are, you'll understand. If not, look them up.

Even worse, over the past 8 months I've been battling a lot of knee swelling in both my knees (prepatellar bursitis, I think) and some achilles tendonitis in my right leg. The symptoms come and go but they haven't disappeared. I'm assuming the cause is shoe-related, but it's hard to say when there's no sport medicine doctor on hand. Both my knees and my lower leg/ankle area were a little tender at the starting gate. So, with my amazing ability to judge the distances between steps, I was also forced to step/hike up and down extremely steep stairs made of stone for about 3 or 4 kilometers. Every step down, my knees felt like they wanted to buckle. Up was okay... Down was not.

At the 11km mark, shortly after getting off the wall section, I looked at my watch. Just over two hours. It was time to pick up the pace.

The final 10kms I ran in under 50 minutes, which I have to admit I'm quite happy with. The problem was that I totally bonked in the final 2kms... the tank simply ran out of gas. My legs quit, my knees screamed and my achilles forgot that it was supposed to loosen up with such activities. I had to stop twice, once when I was less than 500m from the finish. I've never done this because of fatigue, and I totally felt defeated. Swearing, cursing, willing myself to finish, I got going after about 40 seconds of complaining and got on my horse. This last kick kept my time just under 2hrs 50mins.

Even with all this pain and frustration, I was only slightly behind my reasonable goal of 2:45 and the day could not have been more beautiful. I watch my buddies BH, RA, and NM trot across the line, and waited for CG to surge through as she completed her first ever race (the 10km... awesome finish for her!). AL came through around 4:35 for the full marathon putting him in the top 50.

The beer and ice cream that followed the race tasted absolutely delicious, as did the steak dinner at Outback in Wangfujing in central Beijing. The shopping at the markets the next day was excellent and the sun continued to shine. NM and I got a bunch of pics throughout the first half of the race as we took time to check the sites, do some stretching, and soak up every minute of the event. I had no ambitions to run this race for time... I did it for the experience. And to check it off the list. I didn't dominate the wall, but maybe I'm conquered a small piece of that egotistical drive that has been a source of frustration in my past. I enjoyed it. What else can I ask for?

As I sit here typing, I'm only 27 days away from Canada. And I can't wait to taste that sweet air on the West Coast. There's tonnes to do in the meantime, but I'll be home soon.

T

Leave your pride at the door

Launching yourself into a world of new cultures, new experiences and new adventures often has a price tag. Sometimes it's a foolish financial venture, sometimes it's a food that makes you run for a puke-bucket or an activity that puts you in a precarious position where you don't know if you'll make it out alive. But sometimes, living in another cultural realm forces you to reevaluate your own cultural norms and attempt to get over hang-ups, no matter how private or ingrained they may be.

Just a warning... this might be too much sharing for some.

It was about an hour before the race, and we'd just arrived at the Great Wall race site at the Huangyaguan section of the Wall. All the people around me seemed to be speaking a million different languages, were donning their Great Wall race shirts, and were abuzz with talk about where they were from or what kind of training they had done or what event they were participating in. Hugs and high fives were passed around everywhere and anyone around could feel the energy humming through the crowd.

Just like every morning, I had just plowed through my standard yogurt/muesli/fruit/coffee breakfast before getting on the bus, and just like every morning, it was time for me to make a pit stop at the loo. Normally (and obviously) this takes place in my nice, tidy little bathroom in Kaifaqu. But being race day and being 6:30am, approximately two hours outside of Beijing, I'm working with what's available.

"Anyone know where the toilets are?" I enquire.

"Ya, T. They're over there off the far corner of the square. And just so you know, they're 'traditional'," my friend MW said.

"Traditional" typically refers to the fact that most standard toilets in Asia are what are normally called "squat" toilets that rest on the floor. Luckily, I've become somewhat proficient at using these and that was fine. Off I went to the YinYang Square's WC.

As I walk in, my expectations were sent flying out the window. What "traditional" meant to MW and what I was assuming he meant were... well... totally different.

On one side of the men's "toilet" building was a trough-style urinal. Common enough.

On the other side was another open area. And 4 holes in the floor. And nothing else.

Yes, friends, the pictures in your head are the reality. The toilets for "No. 2" were 4 holes in the floor spaced evenly apart with no barriers or privacy walls in between. And no, these weren't separated from the urinal area. Heck, if peepers wanted to, one could even see right through the front door of the building to our area. But what's a person to do? I had 21.1kms ahead of me that morning, and I sure wasn't going to start a 2.5-3hr race without taking care of business. So, I did exactly what the title of this post said... left my pride at the door, dropped my shorts and that was that. Yes, other men were squatting beside me. No, there was no conversation or eye contact. One poor guy who seemed to be waiting for a spot at the trough urinal was actually waiting for one of the other locales. I think he was a bit shy and wanted to wait for total vacancy but it was close to 45 minutes prior to race time. Get real.

I survived to tell the tale. Let's thank the heavens that I packed myself some tissues and hand sanitizer. And for the record, I felt amazing for the entire run, as far as my digestive system was concerned. :)

Another China moment, friends. T.I.C. (This Is China).

Say a prayer of thanks tonight for clean, western toilets.

T

Finis.

I'm going to make this brief and hope these quick photos load, but I'm just writing to report that I finished the race that I'd been training for over the past few months... The Great Wall Half Marathon! I'm in pain, tired, and am probably not ready for work in the morning, but this was one pretty amazing tick in the "DONE" column of my life. More to follow, but for now, my bed beckons.

T

Ahhh... the south

My second year in China seems to be slipping by so slow while seemingly so fast at the same time. The combination of continually improving weather, being able to pull up a plastic stool at any little chuar place (Chinese BBQ, most often on the street), and knowing that Canada is just a few short weeks away is enough to make it fly by and disappear. But the days... sheesh. The days just seem to drag on until 3:40 when the freedom bell tolls. But then, before I know it, I'm in bed.

However, one of the most obvious perks of my job is definitely the holidays. I'm spoiled.

I arrive back in China in late August. I begin teaching around September 1st. By October 1st, I'm on my first week of holidays. Then, alas, I'm in for a long haul of no holidays or long weekends at all until Christmas/New Years, where I get a total of 1 extra day off. However... January 15th arrives and I have 5 WEEKS of holidays for China's "Spring Festival", also known to most westerners as Chinese New Year. The new semester starts after this (late Feb), and before you know it, it's the start of May and I have ANOTHER week of holidays. Then 7 weeks after this, I'm off for the entire summer! Amazing! And since it's early May... you guessed it! I just finished a week of holidays. This time in Yangshuo, in the southern Chinese province of Guangxi.

The south is simply breathtaking.

Last May, I spent a week in central China in the city of Xi'An, home of the Terracotta Warriors. Then in July, I spent 10 days in the glorious greenery and mountains of Yunnan. I also spent a few days in Hong Kong before my winter trip last year. And now, I just finished a week in Yangshuo, and I can't get over how much I love the southern half of China. The scenery is breathtaking, it's warm, the food is great, and did I mention it's breathtaking?

The week was full of rock climbing, cycling, hiking, kayaking, drinking coffee, eating, and reading. If I could describe a perfect vacation, this would pretty much be it. It was so beautiful down there, even in the rain, and I felt like I could just sit and look out onto the landscape and be perfectly content for hours. Roadside stands offered fresh watermelon and strawberries and good coffee was normally only a few minute walk away. The nights were spent on restaurant patios in the city or playing cards, looking over rice fields and mountains off the deck of our hostel. I got in more time taking pictures and trying out random features on my camera and sleeping late, thinking of how much I'm going to dread the following Monday when my alarm erupts on my bedside table at 5:15am. 

I added a couple of pictures above and am thinking about how I'm gonna get back down there.  Amazing.

But now the countdown is officially on. My feet will be firmly planted on Canadian soil in 46 days. Until then, Jianada. Until then.

T

The medication found on the road

My apologies if the title is misleading. Maybe it should read: Running saved my life.

 

Or, my sanity at least.

 

Three years ago, I was the most miserable I'd ever been. My marriage was falling apart, I was in the first few months of the first teaching job I'd ever had (all upper level high school English, and I didn't know if I even wanted to be a teacher), I was attempting to coach an elite volleyball team (I was never an elite player and had only ever assistant-coached for two seasons), and I felt like I was losing grip on everything in my life. Everything was overwhelming me and I felt like I was failing in pretty much every aspect of my life. I was losing my patience and my ability to make reasonable decisions, and I was more sad and angry and frustrated that I had ever been. I was distant with those closest to me and was treating the woman I said I loved worse than I've probably treated any friend in my entire life. I couldn't sleep, wasn't eating well, was doing a terrible job teaching, and couldn't seem to get control over myself.

 

Every week, as the spring progressed, I felt like I was sinking deeper into a hole. Work... home... life... everything felt like an elephant on the chest, or like treading water in a choppy ocean. Sleep would not come without the aid of beer or sleep aids a lot of nights. I wasn't an addict, but in retrospect, I was walking toward addiction, slowly but steadily. I've never been truly unhappy. Not before then, at least.

 

Luckily for me, twice every week, I was able to meet a group. Not an addiction group. But a running group. I signed up for a running clinic to prepare myself for a 25km trail race through the hills and forests around the central Okanagan in western Canada. I had only ever run one race, and it was a 10k race the year before. I'd put back on the weight I'd lost the previous summer when I was maintaining some physical activity, had stopped going to the gym, and was only running once every few weeks. I have such tendencies... when I'm not setting a goal, I don't pursue exercise with any regularity. Or, at least that's been the trend. Gym passes have gone unused, diet plans have been abandoned, etc. Although these runners didn't know it at the time, they helped rescue me from (pardon the cliche) the pit of despair I felt myself slipping into. It was an hour or two out of my day where I could put everything on the shelf and just be. I could let all the pent up anger and energy disappear into oblivion. I could exhaust myself with endless steps. And I could just live inside my head for a while, only focusing on my breath and my footfall. Every hill I climbed and curve in the trail I turned helped leviate the burdens of life and although it didn't save my marriage, it eased my mind and heart just enough to help me get a few hours of sleep and maintain some semblance sanity and of who I was. Little did I know that I'd largely forgotten about that other self and neglected to pursue who I wanted to be.

 

I was able to complete my 2hr 33min race through the hills and trails of the Okanagan with a smile on my face. It was genuine, which was rare at that stage in my recent past. It didn't save my relationship or help right any of the wrongs we were doing to each other. Less than a month after the race I was living on my own back in Victoria. However, upon moving back and being alone again, I kept running. I kept running through all the insomnia, the fatigue, the anger and all the resentment that never seemed to disappear. But it was the only thing that kept me going in any sort of healing direction. That, and of course the support of my family and friends.

 

It's now my second year in China and I just completed my second half marathon. I am also 10 days from the Great Wall Half Marathon outside of Beijing, one of the top "destination" marathons in the world. 9.5kms up and down the most famous wall in the world, followed by another 11.6kms through the nearby towns and back to the wall. I'm a little worried about how gruelling it'll be, but I know it'll be one of the best experiences of my life. And now, a few years into my still-developing passion for this solo sport, I consider myself a runner. It was the thing that opened the release valve on my stress and soothed my spirit through my new path to happiness and self-discovery. I know my shoes are only meters away at all times, and I continue to lace them up for a thousand different reasons. I'm who I am today because of the sport. I'll never be competitive and never shatter records (I was, after all, the wheezy, red-faced kid who sat on the bench of the Grade 10 basketball team back in the day). 

But I'll still run.

 

T