论一次一波三折的半马体验和心愿单的继续达成The Half Marathon That Almost Didn't Happen — and Another Wish Checked Off

"First a burst of spirit, then it fades, then it's spent — I put on 'We're Not the Same' more than thirty times over, and made it through my first in-person half marathon."

Post No. 11

This was a half marathon that almost didn't happen — three times over.

The Race

Last year I ran the virtual version; this year was the first time I won the lottery for a bib. I got the text about picking up my race kit while I was on a business trip in Shenzhen. I called the organizing committee, and it turned out they'd added facial recognition this year, so no one could collect it on my behalf — for a moment I thought my first in-person half was going to die in the womb. The cutoff for picking up the kit was 8:00 p.m. on April 14. Because I booked the wrong flight and then hit a delay, I didn't reach the Olympic Sports Center until eight. Once there, the facial recognition wouldn't read me right, so I had to shuttle back and forth four or five times before it finally worked and I was confirmed to race.

1. My overall race condition was better than last year, even though my time was three minutes slower.
2. The feel of it, and my headspace, were completely different too.
3. Another item on the wishlist, checked off.

Before last year's half, I'd also done a 10K, a 12K, and a 15K, whereas this year my longest run in the week beforehand was 5K. So I did doubt for a while whether I could make it the whole way, since it had been so long since I'd gone the distance. But the run itself — and how I felt afterward — was nothing like last year. Last year I think I stopped to rest about five times and drank two bottles of water. My pace was all over the place, even though my total time came in three minutes faster than this year. When I finished I lay flat on the ground, staring at the sky, feeling wrung out and happy. Afterward I drank a ton of water, ate half a watermelon, and by the time I got home my whole body felt heavy and worn. This year I basically held a steady, gradual acceleration, rested only three times for about a minute each, and drank just one bottle of water on the way. When I finished there was no big drama — it felt natural, like I could've run another 5K.

(Figure in original: this year's result and pace.)

After 19K my body started to protest — I could clearly feel my legs turning to lead. But I gritted my teeth, kept the pace ticking up, and drove across the line. And the truth is, racing in person and racing virtually are simply not in the same league. An in-person race is the most vivid, most real, most concrete experience there is; the honest-to-goodness competitive environment brings the most direct kind of peer pressure, pushing you so you don't dare linger — you just fix your breathing and keep moving forward. The buzz and the sense of accomplishment are on another level too, and the accomplishment has a much longer half-life, a much longer stay.

(Figure in original: my 2017 half marathon result slip.)

A few things I saw during the race gave me plenty to feel and to think about. There were blind runners out there running. There were other characters just as interesting — it all felt like great fun. Guo Ailun and the fairy showed up too. And of course the ever-viral Douyin.

(Figure in original.)

Some friends have told me I seem a little different online versus in person. Or that I'm a bit shy in front of strangers — I can't deny that. Once I actually get to know someone, though, I loosen right up. For me, the version of myself on the court and on the track is the most confident, the most self-assured, the most relaxed, and the most natural. And even though I get brainwashed by inspirational pablum here and there, intentionally or not — and I read some of it myself — as an 11-year Kobe die-hard, there's one line of it I've never bought: noble in defeat. There is no such thing as noble in defeat. Lose and you've lost. Second place means you're the number one loser. Win or go home — there is no second way.

Running, and long-distance running in particular, is a solitary sport, and one that lets you get to know yourself better. There's a saying that goes: running is using one kind of solitude to fight another. This is especially true compared with the big team sports. Especially once you decide to run ten kilometers, or even twenty — very few people have the same window of time and the same pace to complete something like that alongside you. So when you go for a long run, most of the time you're on your own: one person running for an hour, for two hours and more. The solitude of that stretch, the chance it gives you to think, lets you know yourself more clearly. To know how your body responds, to know your own limits, to know the truest feelings inside you. In a life this fast and this loud, that kind of alone time is truly so scarce, so precious — and that's one of the reasons I love long-distance running.

The Brands

When it comes to brands, ASICS was the biggest winner. ASICS earns its title as the king of running shoes — based on what I saw before the race, during it, and at the finish, roughly 40% of runners were in ASICS, plenty of them in the newest Gel-Nimbus 20. Nike, Adidas, and Under Armour split the remaining 40% of the mainstream.

ASICS' biggest piece of black magic dates back to the GEL technology it developed in 1980 — the very foundation of its running shoes. GEL, as the name suggests, is a jelly-like gel. It's called cushioning gel. The reason it's dubbed black magic is its extraordinary shock absorption: you can drop an egg from six meters up onto the gel in free fall and it won't crack. Beyond running-shoe soles, this black-magic material is also used in aviation seat belts and to cushion precision instruments, and so on. Built on GEL, ASICS went on to specialize in eight directions — shock absorption, grip, breathability, flexibility, lightness, durability, stability, and fit — each backed by its own dedicated technology.

On the brand-building side, in recent years it feels like ASICS has been steadily shedding its old image of caring only about performance, of catering only to hardcore runners. The new shoes are younger and cooler, with clearly more fashion-forward elements.

The Medals

One more thing — for a collector, all those beautiful marathon medals were a revelation. I never knew medals could be this gorgeous; I'm hopelessly hooked. Seeing how many lovely medals other people have amassed, you really feel it: the joy of stacking up medals, certificates, and pennants one by one is honestly no less than the joy of stacking up cash.

Growth and What I've Gained

Murakami said: "The fact that I don't feel like running today is exactly why I go running — that's the way a long-distance runner thinks." I've felt the joy running brings me, and I hope you feel it too. The happiness this sport can give you — bit by bit, you'll make it a way of living, a part of your life, even something like a faith. When you run, you are your own whole world; you throw yourself into it completely, with nothing else on your mind.

I won't claim that sticking with exercise or running will change your life dramatically — it varies from person to person, after all. But what I can tell you is this: sensible, consistent exercise really does bring a kind of "rebirth" to your life. It's like opening a window that had been sealed shut inside you, letting you know yourself better; its effect on you is wholly positive and uplifting.

I've always preferred to run in the afternoon. Every time I finish and watch the sun sink in the west, I'm filled with joy and contentment. That happiness peaks after every 5K, every 10K, when the world goes so quiet you can hear only your own breathing. Looking down at a T-shirt soaked through with sweat, my heart is brimming with confidence and satisfaction. I hope this happiness stays with me for life. May this high never come down. I've felt the joy this sport brings me, and I hope you feel it too.

P.S.

A lot of people have asked me about the public account before, so I'll take this chance to explain a little. The WeChat public platform launched in August 2012; service accounts and subscription accounts arrived in August 2013 and February 2014, respectively. I first got into public accounts on Lantern Festival and Valentine's Day of 2014 — so I was among the earliest to encounter subscription accounts. It's just that at the time I wasn't switched-on enough to start one myself, and by the time I got serious about it in 2015 I'd missed that first wave of easy dividends. When it came to naming and positioning it, I agonized over which direction to take. My initial thought was to make it more vertical, but after thinking it over for a long time, I decided to just follow my own interests. Whatever's on my mind, that's what I write — and so here we are with the current style and mix of content: I follow a hot topic when something interesting comes up, plus reading notes, stray thoughts, travel guides, career reflections, and so on. Which means the content is unfocused and all over the place, hard to scale, and easy for readers to drift away from. But the single biggest upside is that I'm happy and unconstrained. For me, that's enough.