The 2004 Toray Cup International Marathon Shanghai, China

I'VE ALWAYS BEEN a bit suspicious of marathon runners, and those that run a marathon. Who goes out for a run and doesn't stop for four or five hours? Some run it faster, but what would possess them to abuse their body in such a way? Do they have demons they need to exercise? Are they fat and trying to prove to their boss that they're goal oriented and therefore need to take on this kind of extra-curricular project 8 months in advance? I don't like hearing about these marathons that won't go down until next summer, and how you're already doing a few miles a day on the treadmill, though you're still wearing rollerblades. And if you try and get money from me per mile, you'll only be getting jiao, if at all. I suppose I've learned the hard way that there is a third group -a lazy, blasé demographic that doesn't have many answersto the why and does things like this "because they're there". This group cannot go to Africa without managing to climb Kilimanjaro, this group cannot visit San Francisco without getting to The Valley, and this group cannot pass up a marathon if it is at all feasible. I don't know what group I fit into, I suppose whichever best serves my best interest, at any given moment. I conned myself into it the same way I con myself into most things - by not taking it seriously and figuring I'll cross that proverbial bridge when it comes. Some things we do just because we don't have any decent reason not to do it.

DESPITE MY IMPASSIONED protests, an annual marathon has defaulted into my New Years resolutions. There are few ancillary benefits other than crossing it off my list. I don't even get into very good shape. For ten months I never encountered a convenient marathon, but then I came across an ad in That's Shanghai magazine for the Shanghai Marathon I sighed deeply, wishing I'd picked up the SE Asian phrasebook instead. I knew I had to at least inquire, and I eventually called and got some race details. Race coordinators were expecting 15,000 runners, yet there was no website to get information or register, and only one phone number with one overworked white collar taking two weeks away from his job of formatting Excel spreadsheets to answer the same damn question. "Yes, sir, you must come down to our office to sign up, yes, its only 200 yuan, yes, you get a free pair of running shoes if you finish." I was secretly holding out hope that the marathon would cost $80 or $100 and I could kaibash the idea in the name of fiscal responsibility, but there was little else I could do but go down to Shanxi, fill out some paperwork and peel back a few red notes. A rare strain of athletic apathy had reared its ugly head again and the subsequent downward spiral had begun.

I HAD ABOUT two and a half weeks before the race, which was plenty of time to get in long runs of 8, 10, 15 and 18 miles, right? I'd been running on the treadmill at the gym, and that didn't seem too hard. If you take away the motors and spinning rubber, running could only be easier, right? I can never relax on a treadmill, always cognizant that at any moment my shoelace could get caught or I could sway an inch too far to the right or left and I'd be another treadmill casualty. There is something unwholesome about running on a treadmill, so I explored other options. Running in Shanghai is akin to smoking a pack a day; you can do it, but its just not part of a healthy lifestyle. The question of putting in long runs on the treadmill was out of question, so I had to head outside. I knew there was a track at Jiao Tong University, though I was one of the few people who had ever been there and recognized it as a track. Everyone else regarded it as a strip of rubber enclosing the fake-grass football field. Bikes would be parked anywhere on the track, people would sit down (on newspaper of course) on Lane 1 and have lunch, and soccer balls shot out from the grass like a game of hungry hungry hippos. The most it resembled a track was when teenagers raced their scooters around the track. Like Pulp Fiction's Holland, its the little things that make life so damn entertaining. Running in 72 quarter mile circles quickly develops a distinct sense of ennui, so what better than chicken bones, high-pitched scooters and a long game of crossfire to keep one engaged? I maintained a tacit agreement with the football players: if the trajectory of their ball was near my intended course, I would make efforts to kick the ball back to them. If they wanted to juggle a ball or play keep-away in Lane 1, they'd have to contend with my trajectory.

Jiao Tong Track

I SCHEDULED MY next long run for Sunday afternoon, six days before the race. I had stayed at Mike and Jim's BBQ until two or so on Saturday night, walked home, and slept for six hours or so before heading out to Shanxi to teach 8 year olds. Around noon I hustled down to JT track and began my circuits. I ran two six mile intervals, with 3 mile, 5 mile and 6 mile times of 21:30, 36:30 and 42:39 for the first and 22:30, 38:30 and 45:30 for the second. Three different people joined me during my first twelve miles. Maybe they were curious why a tall laowei would be running for so long around their football field, or maybe they just wanted to practice their English. I made a few friends and got a few numbers. On my last six mile run I suffered a blood sugar attack. I'd always made fun of people that even commented on that sort of thing, like they needed to give themselves some excuse to eat some chocolate, but I was ready to lay down on the fake plastic grass and sleep for awhile. I stopped after three miles, went to the store and bought a Snickers, Kit-Kat, two sports drinks and some sweet bread. Said junk food was consumed in five minutes, and I was back on track in ten. I finished strong and quickly ducked into a University bathroom to sponge bath myself a bit before teaching at International House. It was funny for me, funnier for the two people that came in during this feeble attempt at cleaning myself up. Not an issue, I'm a professional...

BY THE FOLLOWING weekend I'd ran a total of 40 miles on the track and another 20 or so on the treadmill. Of possibly bigger consequence was the voluntary detox I'd entered into after Halloween. Two weeks and only a few beers. I was getting tired of staying at home, watching dvds and only hearing about the fabulous world that existed after midnight in Shanghai. I ate a few pasta meals, drank some pseudo-sports drinks and resolved myself to put in one last long run in my $35 trailrunners. I'm not sure about the recommendations about running marathons in shoes you wear nearly every day, and have worn for six months, through California, China, SE Asia and the greater Yosemite valleys, but it's probably not advised. C'est la vie.

SATURDAY MORNING I hopped into a cab at 6am and arrived at the Peace Hotel. I warmed up a bit and stretched for a few minutes before I realized I had to kill 50 minutes before the race. It was strange to be out and about in the middle of the night. I thought it would be pitch black and deserted at 6am, but I guess that time is earlier for some more than others. I went into the Peace Hotel to warm up a bit and kill some time. It was chaos inside, too many hyper-active people in too small a place at too early in the morning. I went back outside where it promptly began raining. A band began playing and China felt very communist. People watched the band intently, some saluting and cheering nothing in particular in a strangely jingoistic manner. Soon there were some Toray officials introduced, much to the delight of most of the Chinese runners. I was very intrigued at the fervor and applause the Chinese runners displayed when each Toray figurehead was brought on stage. I don't know what Toray does - I don't think they're in the athletics game -but maybe it is just the combination of a marching band, the Chinese officials and a huddled mass of people that gets the Chinese feeling especially nationalistic. The Chinese national anthem helped all of this as well. The Peace Hotel is Shanghai's most famous hotel, situated on the Bund next to the Huangpi River. It used to be the most luxurious hotel in the Far East, and Art majors cite it as an Art Deco masterpiece. Victor Sasson built it as the Cathay during Shanghai's glory days in the 1930's, but I like to remember the place as the operations base for the Gang of Four during the Cultural Revolution. Someday I hope to belong to a Gang of Four. I enjoyed a few fleeting moments of politics and sport and watched the stage at the starting line as gun was shot at 7:28. I was happy to get going - the sooner I finished the sooner I would be off the mean streets of Shanghai and in the comfort of my apartment, eating bacon and eggs and lying horizontal on big leather couch.

THE FIRST TWO kilometers were a scramble. We ran down Nanjing Lu, which is Shanghai's famous pedestrian shopping strip. I felt like I was late to teach a class and running the gauntlet through the crowds to get on a metro train. After 3km or so I was able to settle into a pace and tried to gauge my speed. One thing about running a fast marathon - you're not going to do it if you go out slow. However, if you pitch Clemens the first two games of the World Series, you're rotation is not going to be too deep, kapiche? I don't know anything about how fast I should be at particular kilometer markers, other than 8 kilometers is 5 miles. I tried to gauge my progress every 8 kilometers, but it got more and more depressing. I was feeling decent - I knew I'd finish - but I wanted to spend as little time on the course as possible. It was not yet raining, fortunately, and there were a lot of people on the streets cheering.

	2004 Shanghai Marathon Race Course

I THINK I ran a 36 or so for the first 5 miles, which was on pace with a decent time, then went through the ten mile mark at 1:10. I was still coming across old men and little kids that had somehow stayed ahead of me. It's like climbing Half Dome on a Saturday during the summer. You'll see five year olds scrambling around the top, big fat families from the Midwest, couples that must be over 80 years old. If I'm on top of Half Dome, I'm probably fairly spent, but it's humbling to see people like that who somehow got ahead of you. Just before the half marathon turn-off I passed a small Chinese boy, maybe 12 years old (I'm a bad judge of age). His legs looked like they were the size of my arms [read: not big], but he was ahead of me. People were lining the course to watch the runners. In China, masses form very quickly if there is something to watch. There are so many people, if two bicyclists get into an accident, there will immediately be 50 people or so converged on the scene. Most of the spectators were chanting Jai you (Jy-o, Jy-o), which I think means hurry up, keep going, good job, etc. I didn't hear any other words of encouragement, but anyone that said anything I heard said Jai you. Every 8 kilometers or so there were long groups of Chinese women in matching yellow and red outfits. They had gongs and drums and would all chant Jai you as I passed. They looked very happy, despite standing outside on a cold November morning, beating a gong and repeating the same two words for three hours. If I had a picture of me passing one of these groups, I would insert it right herererererererere.

I WENT THROUGH the half marathon at 1:32, which meant I was only two minutes off my marathon pace last October in Portland. I was feeling ok, though I knew my legs would not carry me through another 1:32 half. It's one thing to run a 90 minute half marathon, but its much more difficult to run another one right after that. I began to run a long out and back, all of it in traffic. I was on a four lane road for awhile, two lanes of which was filled with idling trucks, buses and cars. The good thing is that a lot of people were hanging out of their windows yelling Jai-you! Jai-you!, but the downside was that I had to run through a cloud of black exhaust for most of the second half of the race. I could see people on the other side of the street returning back towards Shanghai and realized how far back I was. A 3:30 marathon is incredible to some, deplorable to others. We had long left the downtown area of Shanghai and had begun a circuitous route through the SW industrial neighborhoods of Shanghai. At kilometer 30 it began to rain again. It was nice at first - I was hot and sweaty despite the cool temps - but the rain only increased in intensity the rest of the race. A fit Chinese girl caught me and kept me going at a good clip for a few kilometers before I slackened my pace a bit more. I was quickly losing steam and noticed my blood sugar thing was off again. If I had remembered to bring some money I would have bought some candy in one of convenience stores I was passing. I made it to a water and tea stop and quickly drank four cups of sweet cold tea and gobbled my third and fourth Advil. My knees were hurting, my hip flexor was bothering me and my leg muscles were beginning to cramp up. I was quickly getting old. I had another six or seven kilometers to go and really wanted to finish. The rain was falling hard - harder than I'd seen it rain since March or April - and I was running in traffic. The police had been fairly vigilant throughout the race, keeping people, bikes and cars off the course, but now we seemed to be running right beside buses and cars. A delivery truck got stuck in the middle of my path and I banged on it's side. I was running through puddles five inches deep. My clothes were saturated with rain, tea and sweat. I remember wondering why exactly I was doing this, and remembered a bumper sticker my friend in Moab has: Your worst nightmare is my best vacation. He's a climber. I'm not saying I necessarily agree with it. My left calf began spasming again, possibly because I had been favoring my right leg (my hip hurt). I realized that my hip did not really hurt, and if I ignored it and ran normal both legs would be ok. I passed kilometer 40 and tapped into the reserves to get me through the last mile and a quarter; too many people had passed me the last 8 kilometers, I wanted to nick a few of them with whatever kick I could manage. Surprisingly, in the last five kilometers, I passed about 15 people who were walking. The last two marathons I have run I didn't see anyone who was ahead of me walking near the end.

THE SKIES OPENED up as I rounded the corner into the Shanghai Stadium complex. It was torrential. I was about a hundred and fifty meters from finishing an international marathon and I was running behind a bus. I couldn't f$%^ing believe it. Meters from finishing a large international marathon and I'm supposed to share the road with buses, cars and bikes? I was having a hard enough time finishing, but the race coordinators didn't see it as a problem that I should have to negotiate Shanghai street traffic during the last two hundred meters. I had a feeling it was not as big a deal to the Chinese runners. A gang of migrant workers entered my path. Three managed to get out of my way, the fourth got a good shove and a few colorful words as I set my sights on the actual finish line. I crossed the line at 3:25 and change to little fanfare. My support team, which consisted of my housemate (a professional cheerleader during her Monte Vista days) was nowhere to be found. A few dozen people loitered near the finish line under plastic tarps and umbrellas. I was given a voucher for a free pair of Mizuno running shoes and a red hand towel, which was nice to have considering I was a soggy bottom boy. I drank a half dozen more cups of sweet tea, retrieved my fleece and returned my chip, then turned for my house. One of the very few intelligent things the race coordinators did was place the finish two blocks from my house. I stopped by a big grocery store underneath the Shanghai Stadium and bought a pound of bacon (250 grams, you do the math), apple and orange juice, then two donuts from the Mister Donut next door. I made it home quickly and enjoyed a long shower and a tasty Western breakfast of bacon and eggs. Bu-ya-shaka.

IT WAS NICE to get the race out of the way so I could return to my more social ways and have a few beers. Although I had to take off after a few hours at the pad to tutor my girl Vicky, she followed through on an offer to set me up with a massage. When I got to her place, she walked me down to her favorite joint and got me lined up with an hour foot massage and thirty minutes of a full body massage. I'm not much on massages, but when it's a legit place, someone else is paying and I've just finished a marathon, there are worse things I could be doing than sitting back in a comfortable chair with some tea and Thievery Corporation. I tutored her until 8, then cabbed over to the Korean joint to eat BBQ'd dog with Mike, Jim, Amy and a few mates down from Beijing.

So what's the final score? Marathons are a cruel joke to play on your body and they are best left to people who do them for no good reason. I recently read an article in the New York Times that contends that the ability to run long distances played a major factor in the evolution of human's physique. Dr. Dennis M. Bramble of the University of Utah and Dr. Daniel E. Lieberman of Harvard apparently researched this stuff for ten years and came up with earth-shattering quotes such as, "Running made us human, at least in an anatomical sense," and "Have you ever looked at an ape? They have no buns." Remind me not to become a paleontologist, write for the NY Times or run another marathon in Shanghai; I've built enough character this year.