Running Stories (1): The Last Straw

I began my distance running at the age of 13. At the time, I was living in the dormitory of a middle school in Nanjing, China, my birthplace, only going home over the weekends - which didn't include Saturdays at that time in China.

As far as my physical condition was concerned, I was basically in a vicious cycle. On the one hand, since I constantly got sick and quite weak in general, I hardly participated in exercises or even just plain games with other kids. On the other hand, lack of exercise didn't help at all in improving my physical condition, so I continued to get sick roughly once every other week. It would have been easier had I stayed home, but since the middle school - one of the best in the nation - was far away, I had to live in the dorm most of the time. My mom would visit me at the dorm once a week to bring extra nutritious food like eggs, as well as some Chinese medicines that doctor had suggested me to take to improve my kidney condition. But after a year living in the dorm, no sign of improvement was shown.

Meanwhile, I could only get a passing grade in the P.E. class - not based on my performance, but because of my obedience and courtesy to the teacher. I literally failed every test on running, jumping, or throwing. I couldn't even compete with some of the girls.

Outside track and field, the situation was just as bad. Unable to run fast, I was often left out when it came to basketball or soccer. Well, the only position I could play in soccer was probably the goalkeeper, then of course no team would give me that chance because it would be too easy for the other side to score. Strangely, I didn't mind to be left out; I was perfectly fine to just watch from the sideline.

One day just before the winter break, which was around the Chinese New Year, my roommates at the dorm sat me down and offered me an advice. There was one last thing I could try, they said, and that was long-distance running. "This is the only event that doesn't require skills or special abilities to get started," they said. They wanted me to give it a shot over the winter break.

I didn't think that was a good idea. Just not long ago during school's annual New Year's Day street running race, I finished last with two "fatties" among the 90 plus boys in our grade. Those two boys were unusually heavy, considering most people didn't have much to eat during those days in China, and they were known for running slow. To finish last with them - in fact, the boy finished just ahead of us was way ahead of us - was almost embarrassing. I just couldn't run.

But just like my roommates said, I had no other choice.

The winter break started. Some neighbor kids got together to run in the mornings, and I joined them. We went to a nearby college to use its track. For me, running one lap of 400 meters (or 1/4 mile) at my top speed was my maximum distance, and that was what I did at the beginning. Then I began to add a little bit more, then a little bit more. By the end of the winter break, when almost all the other kids had actually quit, I was able to complete three laps. I was thrilled.

Running Stories (2): Boy on the Bus

After the winter break, I went back to my dormitory life. Things began to change now because every Sunday morning, while I was home with my parents, I would go to that college nearby and run on the track. I focused on 3 to 4 laps because that was what the school required the most.

My roommates began to see the changes, and they were happy for me. I still couldn't run fast, nor jump high, but at least I became "physically more reasonable." I no longer had to worry about being blown away by a gust of wind.

As for running, I didn't think that I had the prospect of running longer distance. I felt that I had reached my limit. Or in a sense, I didn't see the point of running longer. Then, quite by accident, I changed my view of myself.

It was a Saturday afternoon in the hot summer. I was on my way home. On that day we got off school early, and I went for a bus route where I could go to my favorite bookstore. Coming out of the bookstore, I had only 10 cents left in my pocket (in China, 1 cent is 1 fen). I wasn't sure about the exact bus fare from there to home, because this was not my usual route. Sometimes they charged me 5 cents, sometimes 10 cents. I decided to take a risk, because I really wanted to spend 5 cents to buy an ice stick. It was so hot! Before I could finish the ice stick, the bus arrived. I jumped on the bus with the ice stick still in my hand, and what I feared to happen happened.

The ticket collector, a young woman, asked me to pay 10 cents for the ticket. I said I only had 5 cents left. She said I need to pay 10 cents. I said the last time I paid 5 cents. Then all of a sudden, she exploded. She seriously thought that I had more money on me, or I wouldn't buy that ice stick. When I insisted that the last time I paid 5 cents, she began to accuse me of lying. That got me. I stopped saying anything, because if I tried, I would cry out aloud right there. The bus just waited, letting this girl threw all her emotions on me, with every passanger watching on. After who-knows-how-long, which felt like eternity to me anyway, she finally stopped and took my 5 cents. The bus took off again.

Then to everyone's astonishment, I got off at the very next stop and started to walk home!

Actually, I could take the bus a few more stops, as far as the 5-cent fare would take me, which would be only one stop short from where I wanted to get off. (Yeah, she could have been more flexible!) Then I could walk, and I would still "defend" my innocence. But obviously I was very mad. Not only I was mad about being called a liar, but I was mad at myself too. I knew 10 cents would be safe, yet I took a chance. Anyway, I was mad and I was walking fast. I walked for at least two hours.

When I got home, I wasn't that mad anymore. Then a thought hit me. It was almost stunning. I WAS NOT TIRED! After walking for this long, I wasn't tired! I said to myself, hey, maybe you are made to run long-distance!

That revelation proved to be quite true. I began to add more and more laps into my self-training. I began to believe that I could ran as long as I wanted if I really tried.

One of the most interesting aspects of life is how sometimes you discover yourself - rather unexpectedly.

Running Stories (3): A Runner's Mind

It didn't take me long to realize that mental strength was as critical as physical strength when it came to long-distance running. But it would be an exaggeration to say that I was very conscious about it. I ran to improve my physical conditions, and it was simple as that.

After a few years of running, one thing was sure. Mostly what I did was to improve myself physically. Friends would make comments on my endurance to run long-distance, and they meant my physical endurance. Deep down, however, I knew that my mental strength had a lot to do with my running as well, but exactly how it came to play was very vague to me.

Many years later, I became more and more fascinated by how human mind works. Partly because I was a computer science student in college, and I learned a great deal how people tried to make computer work one way or another. Through those attempts, people tried to figure out if that was also how human brain worked. Gradually, I started to view the whole situation from a different angle. Instead of trying to understand human mind through the development of computer, why not look at the human mind directly? That was also the time I made changes in my career direction. I decided that I would not be a programmer who deals with the machines all the time; I'd rather have the opportunities to deal with people directly. I enjoy to understand people and to serve them.

So how does a runner's mind work? I certainly cannot speak for anyone else, but for myself, I happen to remember how I was running and what happened to me through the years. I doubt that I ever developed much mental strength through running. Instead, I discovered some of my mental strength through running.

For example, my ability to keep a consistent pace was evident from my running. A big part of my preparation was to figure out how fast I needed to run each lap in order for me to finish at certain time, and once I started to run, I would stick to that plan. If I felt really good, I wouldn't rush to a faster pace based on that feeling; if I felt sluggish instead, I would push myself to hang on the planned pace until I ran through the "wall."

In later years I realized that consistency was the key to success in other areas in my life as well. Looking at the projects that I finished successfully, it was almost all because I was able to carry out the tasks in a consistent manner. On the other hand, many of my projects failed because I didn't have the consistency. Other people certainly may have different styles. I observe that some people are "sprinters" in life. They work hard and play hard. I know that's not my style. I know that through my running.

I suppose one could improve his mental strength through running if he understands how to focus and how to prepare for it. I certainly wasn't knowledgable enough when I was a teenager, nor was I smart enough to seek out a coach or a mentor. I just ran, all by myself. Perhaps some of my mental weakness showed up in my running too, but I was simply not aware of it. It's not too late, though. I am still running.

Running Stories (4): Olympic Heroes

Most of the classmates from my middle school and high school in China had no idea how I was training myself on running. Or put it more precisely, they had no idea that I was actually serious about it. For most kids, running was exercise. It made one healthier, and that was about it.

Initially, running was meant to be exercise to me, as my roommates adviced me. But as I gradually had a better sense about myself through running, I was hooked. I found that running alone allowed me to reach deep into myself, and I enjoyed that feeling. Sometimes I wonder if one does a certain thing because of his personality, or if he does a certain thing long enough, it molds his personality. I suspect that running and I had that type of relationship.

When I explained to some people how I was running, they appeared puzzled. How could you run all by yourself lap after lap? Wouldn't you get bored? Obviously I wasn't bored, or I wouldn't maintain a high level of enthusiasm about running for 4-5 years (up until my family left China). It seemed that there were always ways to motivate myself.

For example, I was always fascinated by the long-distance running stories in the Olympic Games. There was this guy, while running an Olympic marathon, suffered a cramp half way through. He gave up and jumped on a vehicle that was patrolling the race. After a while, his cramp was gone, so he jumped off the car and resumed running! By then he was far ahead his competitors, and he entered the stadium first! He was then caught by the officials, of course. There was another guy who lost all his belongings while travelling across the ocean to participate in an Olympic marathon. He ran the race nonetheless, in his street dress! And finished in 5th place! A Japanese runner gave up his marathon pursuit half way. Many years later, as a high official of the Japanese Olympic committee, he returned to the race site and "completed" his run. His "official" time was like some 40 plus years.

Then there were stories that were not amusing, but utterly inspiring. My favorite Olympic hero was a man named Paavo Nurmi of Finland. In 1924 in Paris, he won five long-distance running gold medal in 6 days! Most amazingly, the 1,500 meters and the 5,000 meters finals were held only one hour apart, and he broke both world records! If there was one thing that I would wish upon Nurmi, it would be that he had also run and won an Olympic marathon. But he never did. Luckily there were plenty of Olympic marathon runners to fill that role. When I ran, I often imagined that I was running with them. Especially running with Nurmi.

Over time, I naturally grew this dream of running a marathon in the Olympics. Soon I realized that it was not realistic anymore. I simply did not have the speed. But the dream of running a marathon was always deep in my heart, and the dream of participating in the Olympic Games also never went away.

Now, you might be intrigued and ask, which event would you possibly participate in? Well, I guess I will have a shot at Tai Chi if it ever becomes an Olympic event. But seriously, I did come up with an idea recently. You know those Olympic torch bearers? The last time the U.S. held the Olympic Games (in Atlanta, 1996), 10,000 people were selected to carry the torch, running through 42 states. How were they selected? They were "community heroes" across the nation. You probably can guess what I will be doing in my spare time between now and the next time the Olympics come to America, in addition to running.

Running Stories (5): Numbers Game

When I was in middle school, I got a digital watch from one of my relatives who lived either in southern China or Hong Kong. At that time, a digital watch was still a rarity in most part of China, not to mention being owned by a school boy. What I liked about the digital watch was that I could tell the exact time much easier than reading the hands of a regular watch. Every day before lunch time, a few boys would turn to me, asking for exactly how many seconds left before the bell rang. They would then start countdown and position themselves, and when the bell rang, they dashed out of the classroom at exactly the right moment - that was how they got to the front of the lines in the cafeteria. I guess my obsession with precise time and clock started at that time. Today, my watch is "radio controlled," reset every day by the national atomic clock. And yes, I am very punctural. If you invite me to a party, don't expect me to be early.

That digital watch became an integral part of my running. I used it to time myself on every lap, and I would quickly calculate my current pace and see if I was on track (no pun intended). After I went home, I would again calculate my average pace for the day and set a goal for the next week. Then I began to do the same calculation not just on my own time, but on the times achieved by world-class athletes, including world records! That was probably when I realized that my chance of qualifying for Olympics was next to none. But through that "hobby," I began to develop a keen sense of numbers.

In my last year in middle school, our P.E. class required us to run 1,500 meters 4 times, and the best time was reported toward the final grade. My first three runs were 6'18" (6 minutes and 18 seconds), 6'00" and 5'46", respectively. Thus I predicted that my last try would come in at 5'36". My "reasoning" was that my last three tries showed improvement of 18 and 14 seconds, respectively, so my final run "should" have an improvement of 10 seconds from the last run, because 18, 14 and 10 would form a nice linear series. I told all my friends of my prediction; they were polite. I ended up finishing the run at 5'37", good enough to earn full score on this event.

That was only the beginning of my obsession with numbers. I began to play with numbers wherever I saw them. Friends' birthdays were one of my primary targets. A close friend was born on March 27, 1968. In China, that was usually written as 1968.3.27. I told him that the cubic root of "19683" is "27". In addition, 1+9+6+8+3=27. That's how I still remember his birthday. If you think that running is crazy, wait until you see what can be done with numbers.

I once had a combination lock for my bicycle. The combination key was "762". I stared at the number (with pencil and paper) and saw that 762 was the sum of 400, 361, and 1, which happened to be the squares of 20, 19 and 1, respectively. That was probably as much as a combination lock would deserve already. For some reason I looked at the numbers a little bit longer, and when I saw that 20+19+1=40, which was as plain as it could get, suddenly something quite extraordinary appeared in front of my eyes:

762
------ = 19.05
 40

Eh, what's special about that? Well, if you combine all the facts I listed above, you have:

19² +1² + 20²          1
------------------ = 19 ----
  19 + 1 + 20            20

A little magic that was hidden in a combination lock.

Later I thought about it. It was as much a matter of attitude - if not more so - as a case of skills or talent. Yes, some skills and experience may be required, but it was the belief that something extraordinary would come out of ordinary if we try hard enough that drove me to hang on a little bit longer. Kind of reminded me of how sometimes I ran. (Okay, that's my attempt to get back to the topic of running before you begin to wonder where I am heading to.)