I am running toward the Bird’s Nest in Beijing with my inhaler closely gripped and my Hail Marys whizzing away. A Range zips past with horn blaring and tinted windows glaring. The 100-foot city buses that have accordion-like expanders swerves around me with the driver swearing.
The ever-present Chinese bicyclist is more passive, simply racing me or completely ignoring me. I stop for a quick viewing of a heated mahjong game in which two Chinese men are throwing chopsticks and beer bottles at each other. Continuing on my run, I am stared at, yelled at, ignored or curiously observed, because I am running on the streets of Beijing-something most natives never see.
Whenever the air is clear (or not) and my Asics are ready, I go on runs in many Chinese cities. In Xi’an I nearly was run over by a grandma on a speeding, double-wide rickshaw. However, her cargo: 20 propane tanks full of explosive gas stacked 10 feet high and latched together by tattered jump ropes, was more frightening than her lack of teeth.
In Mongolia I was accosted by a native trying to sell me his horse and motorcycle, and quite possibly his wife. In the Gobi Desert I ran to the 1,000-foot-tall sand dunes and watched the sunrise in complete silence. I have been extremely fortunate and driven to see China from the streets, sands and grasslands that make it what it is.
My running partner and adventurous friend Celeste runs cross country and track at Creighton University. Celeste and I are training for the Beijing Half Marathon, to be held on Oct. 19. She is the type of person who will run 14 miles in the heat of the day and then crack open a case full of Chinese beer and let the alcohol and exhaustion take its course. Celeste and I hit it off immediately and now we run together several days a week, post-run beers included.
Running through St. Louis does not prepare one for running in Beijing. Given that parts of St. Louis are extra sketch at best – in Beijing there are military installations (with barbed wire, AK-47 bearing guards, and seemingly steroid-induced German shepherds) that can be accidentally mistaken for a bathroom.
In Beijing there are little dogs no bigger than large cats that appear passive, but then try to tear the flesh from your limbs as you jog past. In Beijing the smog is so thick that the government actually fires chemical rockets into the air to “make it rain.” Breathing the air here is similar to smoking two packs a day, according to the Chinese EPA. All in all, running is no easy task, especially with my “breathing weakness” as the Chinese call asthma.
With the race two weeks away and training in full swing, I am confident that I will:
A – Not be arrested for running through the streets of Beijing belligerently breaking every traffic law since the days of Mao.
B – Not be mowed down by a bus full of 300 people or a taxi driver who just learned how to drive the previous day.
C – Be able to use my lungs again.
D – Enjoy the six-pack of Qingdao beer after I finish the 13.1 mile race.
Ryan Gach is a junior in the College of Arts and Sciences, studying abroad in China.
