Day 3,
September 20
Yesterday was day 3, and I still haven't actually posted these to the internet yet. I'm having all sorts of problems with a lecture I’m preparing on vector bundles, so I feel guilty every time I spend more than 15 minutes writing.
Yesterday my girlfriend Xiaoxi said she'd accompany me while I ran. Originally she was going to run with me, but then she decided the two kilometers I was planning was too far, so she’d bike beside me instead of running. I figured this would be a good enough excuse to just run two kilometers as fast as I could. I don't have a watch, so I'm sorry to say I have no idea how fast "as fast as I could" is. Xiaoxi tried to keep up, which I thought would be easy on a bike, but she kept getting stuck behind cars turning or other bikers. Once I got back to the Buddies convenience store at the entrance gate to her little neighborhood thing, I had to wait a whole minute for her.
I feel like writings like this, where I'm contemplating each day one particular activity, are supposed to devolve into insanity or arrive at some great truth about myself. Both of those feel fake to me. I'm sure I'll reveal all sorts of personal details as I describe whatever it is I think about while running, but that's about it.
Still, I need to get all these posted ASAP. I keep editing and adding to Day 1 and Day 2, which kind of defeats the point of this particular creative writing exercise of "running then saying something about it". The ideal would be to start each log right when I get home, before I even shower, while I'm covered in sweat and have yet to catch my breath. Otherwise running is like a dream that starts fading the moment I wake up. It leaves no trace on my every day life.
I am, for example, sitting on the subway right now as I write this, on line 4. The next station is Shanghai Railroad station. It's almost 8am, so the the train car is crowded, but not filled to the brim the way it is closer to 9am. It was raining outside, so everyone around me has brought in a latent dampness with them. There was an old man wearing a black mask with his eyes shut sitting in front of me, but a crowd of people just got on, and now a lady with hair short enough to not fully cover her ears and a full black Medusa track suit (she has the jacket hanging from her back without putting her arms through it) blocked my view of him. I'm already quite removed from running. If I wanted to run right now, it'd be quite difficult. I'd probably end up pushing an old lady over and getting arrested. Even walking to the door at the next stop where I get off is going to be a struggle. The darkness of last night or the beating sun of the day before is all gone now: the train pierces through skyscrapers under construction and old houses being demolished beneath the fog, then descends underground as the semi-robotic announcement voice tells me I've arrived at Hailun Road station.