Yuki Run

To accentuate my change in lifestyle in Japan, I have taken to running. Though still a struggle for me (I continue to hold that my upbringing in gymnastics doomed me as a long distance runner), I have managed to keep it up fairly regularly, and the quizzical glances that I get from neighbors is beginning to subside. As motivation (and with the help of Erin and Belinda) I have begun running in marathons, albeit only 5km of them. Still this is very atypical of me. Turns out that Japan has many marathons throughout the year, and you can usually run 3, 5, 10 or 20km, which makes it a happy occasion for all abilities. In addition there is usually a parent/child 2km race, making it a family affair. There are fun t-shirts and bento box lunches included with every entry and usually an onsen pass as well. I have found it a nice and only minimally dreaded thing to do.

So this past weekend was the Ryujin marathon. Ryujin is a very rural mountain village about a windy hour and a half away from me. And now that winter is "approaching" the weather change as you venture deeper into the mountains is quite shocking. The morning of the race, the knee was hurting, the lingering cold continued to linger and it was raining. Not the best beginning to the day, but we were there, at the lodge,crowding in the heated lobby. The race must go on. And then, right as we were lining up for the opening shot, it began to snow. Me, being the prepared person that I am, was dressed in thin jazz pants and a long sleeve shirt, decreasing the genki-ness (down-ness) even more. But, the race must go on. And though it began to snow more heavily as I ran (jogged) it was the most enjoyable run I have ever had. Surrounded my reddened (word?) mountains, running alongside a river, with the snow rushing towards me, was and experience I will not forget. Yes my fingers were numb and I was in the back of the pack with the 60 plus age group, but it was awesome. And then it dawned on me that that is where the essence of a race is, where the inspirational people run, where the stories are. The woman beside me must have been at least seventy with a full face of make-up. The man not too far behind me was about the same age and chugged along, huffing and puffing in a melodic manner, and looked happy as ever. The boy to my left walked and ran, in a two steps forward, one step back manner, and though he looked deflated, he persisted. We all seemed content to be bringing up the rear. As for me, I ended quite refreshed and happy and remained in the top six for my age group (there were 8 of us). But most importantly, I am also now willing to continue this running thing.

Mediocrity feels so good sometimes.