In this past month my lap runs around the lake have been a rather grim little affair. Without B’s cheery company, I run while bogged down in ruminations about all the places my foot hurts, how slow-ass I am etc.
It does not help that conditions have varied from scorching heat and literal clouds of nostril-invading gnats to gusty, chilling winds.
My memorial day weekend hike (#1) took place in Marin amidst drizzle that became rain that leached body heat out when stuck by accompanying wind.
Fort Cronkite Hike
It made for atmospheric ambiance, particularly around the haunting old WWII ruins, but not such a lovely day out. By Memorial day hike #2, it was sunny, dusty, sweaty business, at the aforementioned/blogged Rancho San Antonio.
This morning I went plodding along, bargaining with myself mentally.
“We can do 6 miles.”
“well…how about 4?”
“We’re gonna die on triathlon day if you keep slacking like this…”
“It’s been a long week, tomorrow’s yoga and I promise we’ll swim and maybe run again monday…”
“Just find a good run playlist and get a move on.”
My stomach growls, I am aching for a green tea/Peets coffee fix, (and a nice pastry to boot.) Not promising. Then on lap two, I notice two high-stepping young lads up ahead. Ok, I thought, I can pace myself by following those guys, keep them in sight, just don’t get too far behind them.
So I followed, and began to wonder what their story was. They both wore the same plain white tees and black and white striped basketball shorts. Perhaps they were on a high school track team around here. At intervals they’d pick up their steps higher, and one would lace his hands behind his head as he ran.
Mysteriously, I started to catch up.
I think they’re getting a bit winded. I wind up passing them.
A quarter mile later I hear them running up behind me.
They pass. I catch up.
Am on the verge of passing yet again. Geez, this is really starting to remind me of precisely how I met beloved B, trying to ditch one another.
“I’m pacing myself on you guys!”
They smile and tell me “you’re very good.”
I think that’s quite I stretch but I am happy for running company. I fall in beside them as we run. They say they are at the lake “For fun. Exercise.”
I detect an accent and wonder even more what their story is.
I tell them a bit about the races I am training for, and they seem fascinated.
They ask if I “win things”, to which I laugh like a maniac.
“Hahaha, oh NO. Not me. I go slow, just for fun. Some of the races have prizes for the winners. I think always the winners are Kenyan.”
Suddenly they both exclaim, “We are from Kenya!!”
They seem delighted. They ask about my home country, and about whether there are great runners from Taiwan too. Er, sadly, I think the answer to that is a pretty clear NO. Especially compared to Kenya.
(Although our current President is a mighty fine runner)President Ma, swimmer and jogger
At the end of 4 miles, one of the young men directs us to “go ahead without me!”
So S and I chat for another loop. He’s only been in Fremont for 7 months.
“I think my brother and I are very lucky, we both got Rotary Club scholarships to come and go to school.” He’s 25. Ah. To be 25 again…(but less of an idiot second time ’round.)
He mentions that he used to run “8, maybe 10, can also be 20 miles”. I raise an eyebrow and encourage him to sign up for some races. He asks more about how I came to be in Fremont, and whether I will do all the races. I find myself explaining that I am not so fast these days, and at one point mention that my family has been in California for more than 30 years now.
He looks stunned. “What?!”
“S, I’m almost 35 years old.”
He goes on a flattering litany that no one who sees me would think I am 35, because I am “looking so fit, very young.”
I have to laugh, “yeah sure, of COURSE compared to White Americans maybe, Chinese look young.”
He notes that people in Kenya “are not so fat, eat too much, like here.”
I note that that is probably one of the greatest understatements I’ve heard in awhile.
Gave him my e-mail, and hopes he does follow up on e-mailing me because I’ve quite a list of races to send his way.
