Progression Run and Memories

I embarked on my weekly “long run” this morning a little before 7 am. Tomorrow is July 4th, Independence Day.

The run totaled 12 miles. I kept my pace in a low heart rate zone for the majority of the run; I’m mindful of the human tendency to overdo exercises. I accelerated the final 25 minutes of the run, but felt relatively fresh at the finish.

I prefer having the majority of my long runs in a low heart rate zone because I find myself in a meditative state while running at a prolonged low effort. My mind wanders. There are no thoughts of physical pain or fatigue. This pace is my “forever” zone. It is a pace in which time ceases to exist. My sights are on my environs, not the ground beneath me.

For a brief moment I thought about what I surprisingly miss from living in China (I’m staying in the US, but I did get a lot of value from my time in China). There are several things I admittedly miss, but I’ll only detail one of those things here: the struggle of it all. Through the struggle of figuring out how to persist in China, I found meaning.

The temperature, for example, was almost never ideal. In the summers I baked due to a lack of air conditioning. In the winters I froze due to a lack of adequate heating. And yet somehow I adapted (or attempted to as best I could). It was that adaptation that strengthened me.

In the return to a world utterly obsessed with perfect temperature regulation, I’ve found both comfort and a relative emptiness. The A/C puffs a cool breeze that both soothes my skin and drains my soul.

Every now and then I’ll turn off the air conditioning and let my apartment’s temperature shoot up to around 80 degrees Fahrenheit. I try to remind myself that it’s discomfort that spurs growth, not comfort. I’ll let myself sweat it out at night.

I find “discomfort experiments” such as this worthwhile because I am building up to some extreme endurance activities. Endurance running and cycling require the ability to withstand and understand discomfort. So, I try to disrupt the status quo here and there. I think back to my life in China. I try to resist the innate temptation to overcompensate with comfort.

In China, my struggles were also exciting. The struggle to communicate, the struggle to eat adequately, the struggle to adapt. They caused stress and yet they enlivened me. I miss those things and more. I don’t plan to return to China, but these struggles taught me valuable lessons.

My thoughts of China were brief and mixed with several other random reflections.

Another thought I had on my trail run regarded the animals I often cross on my path. I’ve seen a menagerie of wildlife: geese, turkey, robins, crows, squirrels, rabbits, possums, and even a family of beaver. There is something deeply satisfying in crossing paths with these animals. I’ve gained a better understanding of some species-specific behavior. I’ve had a better glimpse of the world as it was meant to exist, outside the vice grip of the city.

Turkey, for example, are much flightier than geese, which will often “stand their ground” defensively. The turkey take off running.

I suspect that distance running is really about connectedness. You can’t find that on a treadmill. It’s about experiencing the earth’s surface, developing a relationship with it, and finding connection with nature. A treadmill is more of a torture device. I can’t run on those things for the life of me. They lack fun in every sense of the word.

Tomorrow is Independence Day. For the sake of memories I’ll post a photo that was taken about 4 years ago. This one still feels like yesterday. I feel like the thrill of it all captures how I think of my time in China, in general: exhilarating, nauseating, unique, and brief enough to feel like a dream.

I rode this in China and then fought to avoid puking for an hour afterward:

China Memories - BBQ with Friends

Through my final months spent in China, one of my best friends was someone who’s name I never fully learned. I guess that’s not entirely shocking when living in a country that speaks a language you don’t understand.

His name existed only as a series of symbols in my “WeChat” application (the main social media app in the country) that at one point I vaguely understood, though I could never remember it. And of course, I’ve since forgotten his name.

He owned a dumpling shop that I often stopped by after work. “Jiaozi” is the Chinese word for dumplings, and “zhū ròu” (if you don’t understand pinyin this might not mean anything) is the word for pork.

I ordered the pork dumplings (with soured vegetables) from him on an almost daily basis, to the point that he started to deem my predictability laughable. “My dumplings seduce you so thoroughly, or is it me?” He’d often joke through our phone apps.

“Zhū ròu jiaozi, suancai? (Pork dumplings with sauerkraut?)

“Yǒu.” (I’ll have)

I typically ate alone at his dumpling store during my final winter months in China. The store was essentially a food stand, amidst a maze of food stands, within the first-floor supermarket of a tall and decrepit business building.

If the customer line wasn’t too long, we’d have an extended conversation. He couldn’t speak a word of English and my Chinese was shaky at best, so we communicated almost entirely through our phone apps.

We talked about life, work, the daily grind, and the daily pressure of putting food on a family’s table. He asked me about culture in America, and I asked him about culture in China.

We made jokes about how easily the Russians in the area were mistaken by Chinese locals to be American.

After a few weeks of pleasant lunch conversations, we started having dinner and drinks together. “You have to experience Chinese food beyond my dumplings, after all!” He’d joke. His wife worked with him and she often joined us in our gluttony (and we truly feasted). Chinese bbq was typically our favorite meal.

This was one of our favorite bbq spots. These photos were taken three years ago to this day. It brought back a smile to see my old friend again.

I’d since deleted my WeChat profile, and I often regret it. There is a pang of nostalgia and a wish to send him a message to catch up on life; I can only guess that his store is doing well (they were excellent dumplings after all!).