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

A bowl of water for a safe return

For a couple of years, I was an avid reader of, and was continually checking updates from, a heart-breaking and powerfully written blog by a young Iraqi woman who kept her identity tightly guarded. She wrote at the height of the American occupation in Iraq when soldiers were breaking down doors and "collecting" anyone who might be considered a threat to the West or to the post-Saddam government that was being installed in her home country. The voice in which she wrote these posts was so clear and rang so true that I couldn't stop myself from reading. She wrote until the spring of 2007 where she wrote about her escape from Baghdad in Syria. Then the posts stopped.

At one point, I'd actually written to her, hoping that this stranger who I'd never met (and who I'd never meet in reality) was safe. Seems like such a strange notion... worrying about a blogging stranger from the other side of the world while I sat in Canada, insulated from war and everything that was Iraq at the time. I lived the charmed life of a middle-class kid from the prairies who never had to worry about any of the things she or her family or her countrymen experienced. But I felt compelled nonetheless. I never heard back and she has posted nothing after that final April entry. Since then, her blog has been translated and published in multiple volumes around the world, has won numerous awards, and continues to have an effect on me. I silently hope for her safety and that these people know where she is so she can reap the benefits of the words that made such an impact on me and many others. Her words always reminded me (and continue to do so) that there's always something bigger than the dramas of my life happening.

There was one moment that I continue to recall often, especially when I know my friends or family are traveling, whether it be a short jaunt around Canada or on a cross-continental adventure. It's the moment where she finally stepped into the car that would take her to her new life awaiting in Syria (whatever that would be), and was one of the final images she shared before disappearing from the blogosphere. She wrote the following...

"I cried as we left- in spite of promises not to. The aunt cried… the uncle cried. My parents tried to be stoic but there were tears in their voices as they said their goodbyes. The worst part is saying goodbye and wondering if you're ever going to see these people again. My uncle tightened the shawl I'd thrown over my hair and advised me firmly to 'keep it on until you get to the border'. The aunt rushed out behind us as the car pulled out of the garage and dumped a bowl of water on the ground, which is a tradition- its to wish the travelers a safe return… eventually."

As I speak to my friends and family throughout the world who are embarking on new plans to see this amazing planet (or even to see something they've already experienced), I can't avoid silently thinking that I'd like to metaphorically pour out a similar bowl of water behind them as they took steps toward a new place, new home, new adventure. Seeing as how my life has changed in the past decade, it's hard to know where it is I'll be returning to.

To my friend DVP... safe travels as you depart from the Himalayas on your way to Israel and everywhere afterward.

And to the rest of you, safe travels as well, wherever you are.

T

(To check out Riverbend's Blog, Go Here. To read more about her and her story, Go Here.)

Funny China moment...

I'm in the process of registering for the marathon taking place in the city I'm living in, and this is what the race website states...

"VI. Physical Requirements:

1. Participant must be healthy, receiving professional training or keeping regular exercises.
2. Participant with the certain diseases should not participate in the race (list follows)
3. The normal participants who have following conditions in physical examination are not allowed to participate in the race.
3.1. Resting heart rate is above 85 beats / min; blood pressure is above 140/90 mm Hg;
3.2. Quiet breathing is up to 24 times / min; body temperature is above 37 degrees Celsius;
3.3. Gastrointestinal disease; severe insomnia; liver dysfunction;
3.4. Have a cold or fever within one week before the race; chest stuffiness and labored breathing; palpitations symptoms for more than three consecutive days;
3.5. Too fat and too old.

Yes. This is copied and pasted. Don't be fat and old. Only awesome.

T

Wǒ shì yīgè Bīng Lóng

The sun is slowly dropping down over the rolling landscape of southern Liaoning as the bus makes it's way up the Shenda Expressway, bound for home. The Dalian Ice Dragons (the best hockey team in China without a rink) are returning from Shenyang, the provincial capital, after a weekend of hockey and hijinx to kick off the change in seasons, from the bitterly cold Siberian-wind-filled winter to a spring that everyone's been looking forward to. As a perfect contrast, my family is sending text messages from Alberta telling me about a monster April storm that rolled through my hometown last night. It's not spring in Alberta without a ridiculous dump of snow. I'm so happy spring has sprung here.

I tagged along this weekend on another of the Ice Dragons' trips. A group of guys from the school have been getting together to play hockey and make roadtrips around northern and central China for more than 10 years now, and I've been able to act as unofficial "coach" for a few of the occasions. I typically wear a ridiculous jacket, yell too much, and sometimes make runs to the store for water and other necessities. One of my first weekends in China was actually a trip with DS and the Dragons to this same city in central Liaoning and was where I met many of the guys I now know as friends here in China.

Every time I've tagged along on the trips, I've been invited to strap on skates and gear and take part. However, I'm not exactly what you'd call a "skater". I played endless hours of road hockey as a kid with my older bro, my dad, and a group of the neighbor kids in my old cul-de-sac in Lethy. But after spending my skating lessons as a kid smacking my head on the ice, I really hated skating and everything that came along with it. My feet would blister, my ankles would burn, I'd wheeze like a sick jalopy, and the crack of helmet hitting ice was all too familiar. Thus, I pretty much said that I'd never skate again.

There was one or two exceptions in the past. I remember being in 4^th or 5^th grade and making a trip across the road to the tiny lake near my elementary school to go skating with my class. But after about 10 minutes of hating my life and being totally unable to stay on my feet, I sat on the shoreline watching the more adept skaters enjoy an activity that's more Canadian than even Tim Horton's.

Then I think I recall lacing up some skates that were the wrong size for something in Grade 8. I don't really recall the event, just the general time. And the lack of love. Skating sucks.

For being totally useless on ice, I'd actually spent a fair amount of time in rinks as a kid. Part of growing up in semi-rural Canada, I guess. Whether it was for my own lessons, or for junior hockey games, or while waiting for my little sister's figure skating lessons to be done, the musty scent of the rink remains familiar.

So this weekend, I hopped on the bus after school for another foolish weekend of fun. And I did something I've pretty much swore I'd never do: lace 'em up.

I put on some borrowed gear, donned a Dragons jersey, laced up some too-big skates and stepped on the ice for the first time in about 15 years. I'd never worn hockey gear in my life. And it was pretty awesome. I played three shifts on right wing for the Dalian Bing Long (Ice Dragons in Chinese) and survived without a concussion (and even without falling!). And also got over one of the oldest hang-ups I've had nearly my entire life. Funny enough, it only took these three shifts to make myself a real part of a tradition that's nearly as long as my phobia. No longer just a tag-along (and as the title of this post reads)… I am an Ice Dragon.

T

April arrives with a leeeetle joke...

So, I'm not moving to Madagascar. :)

Although I AM looking into more tropical destinations for teaching after one more year in China, I'm not moving to a place so random as Madagascar. Not yet, anyway. Sorry to the family for totally hooking them into the joke, but I always believe that gags have to have a semblance of potential truth to really get everyone really believing the gag.

For now, I'm exhausted from a weekend trip to Shenyang but I'll post a story about that sometime tonight. Much love, all...

T