Run

I am going to take a short cut in writing this blog post this week. In English class we were assigned to write an essay depicting any kind of trip we have taken while in China. It could be any real trip we have taken whether to another province or to the grocery store, and I choose to write about a run I took one night this month. My teacher encouraged us to be a little bit experimental with our in the essay so this might come across as a little bit strange for some of you. I hope you enjoy it and please keep in mind it is just a rough draft (my title is TBD)... let me know what you think.


Julia Loughlin
English D- Block

Do pg. 56-58 in the character book. Write blog post. Read to pg. 50 in the book. Study for tingxie. Do problems 1-54 on pg. 281. Make up a 2 pg. dialogue. Send generic, ‘everything is great here’ email to friends and family. Study for other tingxie. Go to sleep. Get up. Do it again. This is what my life entailed everyday for my first month in China. I worked, I studied, I preformed the robotic functions necessary to keep my head above the water, but as the days went by, the sleep decreased and my perspective on this experience became more and more skewed. I was overwhelmed, overtired, and I could feel myself slowly sinking in the rising waters. That is why on Friday, the 9th of October, I needed to run.
Running is therapy for me. The sharp tightening of my battered laces, the slow deep strain of stretching my muscles, my iPod sending charged notes through my ears, and those first few steps in which my feet anticipate the distance they are about to cover. The process is therapeutic* and that night as I set off jogging lightly out of my dimly lit hutong, feeling my muscles warm up and my brain shut down, I relished in the routine of it all. After struggling day after day at in classes at school and in making conversation at home, it felt so good to simply be sure of something.
I rounded the corner onto the narrow but crowded bar street, and the roaring night life of the city hit me. I ran past awed tourists who pointed at the crumbling hutongs and sent out bright sparks from their flashing bulbs into the night. I ran past a group of pinstriped Chinese men just out of work gathered around a small game of cards, completely absorbed in each move. I ran past a clearly enamored couple who held each other’s hands in such an innocent and pure embrace, completely oblivious to the world around them. All of this I observed as I ran towards my favorite spot in Beijing.
My running park, as I have named it because it has no name as far as I know, is a 1.5 mile long, skinny strip of grass dividing two main roads inside the second ring road. In comparison with some of Beijing's grander parks like Behai and Jingsheng, it isn’t much, but to me it is the most beautiful park in the world. During the day the park hums with activity. The elderly practice their steady Tai-Chi positions, the children roller blade with shocking agility and grace, and unashamed men and women sing cheerfully as they stroll along. At night, the park takes on a new personality. Its usually crowded and sunlit paths empty and glow eerily in the long shadows. The park benches sit abandoned, and all sound from the surrounding road ways fades away. Stray, dirt stained cats dart between the bushes playfully as if they want me to follow them and stars glint softly in the black sky. At night the park becomes a small, untouched world of its own, set in the busy streets of downtown Beijing, and it is one of the few places I feel truly comfortable. That is why as I saw the first few trees peeked out from the main road, I picked up the pace and ran towards its welcoming familiarity. I ran down the twisting path through the densely packed trees, away from the noise, confusion, and chaos of the world I had just left behind. I had gone down this path so many times before that my frazzled brain knew to shut itself off and let my feet lead the way. Slowly I let go of my deepest concerns. Every deep intake of sweet night air cleared my mind, and each sharp exhale pushed an anxiety out. Each step seemed to smash one of the worries that plagued my mind. No more thoughts of failed tingxies, homework still to be completed, or friends and family I miss. No more worries about the declining economy back at home, or milk crises where I live now. No thinking about miscommunications with host parents or not getting enough sleep. Each of these previously daunting thoughts seemed so insignificant after being crushed by my pounding feet. They all lay shattered on the tiled ground behind me as I moved with confidence through the empty park.
By the time I hit the end of the park and turned around to return home, I could feel clarity fill in the space that chaos had just occupied. I could again begin to see why I came to China, what my goals were, and how short a time this year really is. What had just seemed so overwhelming seemed so clear now. As I glided past the empty park benches and luminescent flowers, I again felt in control. My music coursed through my body as my blood did through my veins with both beats seeming to fall in a steady time. Everything fell back into place and even though I knew I was running back towards a confusing and difficult world, I could handle it. I sprinted to the end of my little park and was reluctant to leave the comfort of its familiar paths, but I knew I would be back soon.
Turning the corner, the deafening sounds, exotic smells, and intriguing sights of the explosive bar street hit me again . The awed tourists had left, probably off to see some new exciting attraction. The pinstriped men has dispersed back to their homes for dinner, leaving only their lonely wooden card table. The young couple was no where to be seen, but an elderly married couple now occupied the bench in which they had sat. The street was the same, but everything was different. I rounded back around onto my hutong street letting the darkness envelop me and the words of my song permeate the now quiet night air:

You gotta swim
Swim for your life
Swim for the music
That saves you
When you're not so sure you'll survive
You gotta swim
Swim when it hurts
The whole world is watching
You haven't come this far
To fall off the earth

To some it might not make sense, but in running I remember how to swim. In running I remember how to see clearly, listen carefully, and remember what’s important. In running I remember how to keep things in perspective and not become overwhelmed. So, when everything seems to be falling apart, and my whole world is crashing around me, all I do is lace up my sneakers, plug in my Ipod, stretch out my muscles, and run.

Well that's it folks, I hope you liked it and please let me know what you think!
Until Next Time,
Julia

Song of the Week
Swim (as quoted above) by Jack's Mannequin