The Pyeongchon 10k

Ladies and gentlemen, as of today the Pensive Sophist would like to add a new bullet-point to his resume: runner of a 10K! Who’s got two thumbs and has run a 10K? This guy [me smugly pointing my two thumbs at myself]! It didn’t go down in quite the way I imagined it would, but still, I will go to bed tonight having completed the first long-distance race of any kind in my life.

As you know, a few weeks ago I was persuaded by my friend Anna to attempt a 10k with her this weekend. The plan was to run in the Nike Human Race, which is a 10k that Nike has organized in cities all around the world to try and get people to get out and run on a global scale. By the time we had heard about the race, the registration for the local one in Seoul had already been closed, but we were told that we could still run the race as long as we weren’t worried about timing ourselves (and not getting one of the cool Human Race t-shirts, as well). For me, that really wasn’t a big deal- honestly, my only concern was being able to finish the race all the way through without having to stop to walk, keel over, pass out, etc.

In the last week, I had been upping my workouts to try and push myself to run further, as evidenced by the gloat at the end of my last blog entry. I was feeling pretty good about the prospect of the race until yesterday, when I got a text message from Anna: the race was actually on Saturday (not Sunday) and was scheduled for 4:00 pm instead of the morning (I work on Saturday evenings). Needless to say, I was pretty bummed. I’d been getting myself amped up for the race in the last few days; we had a small contingent of friends who were going to go to cheer us on with signs, and had even made plans to make our own independently-designed matching t-shirts to wear on race day. The prospect of running with thousands of other people was a little daunting, but also exciting- I wanted to feel like I was really running in a race, not just exercising.

After getting the bad news, I took a little while to mull over my options. Skipping work to run the race would probably get me fired (or at least send me in that direction), so I ruled that out pretty quickly. I could just not run at all- after all, it had only been about two weeks since I decided to do it in the first place, and now I wouldn’t have to push myself. But that idea just didn’t sit right with me. I spent some time browsing the Nike website and saw how much they were encouraging anyone who wanted to go out and run the 10k that day, no matter whom they were with or where they were.

“Screw it!” I told myself. I am going to run this race, whether or not there is anyone there to watch me, cheer me on, or run alongside me. I went mapmyrun.com, a site I use to keep track of my workouts that I was introduced to over the summer by my friend Bentzi, who as a marathoner himself has been a big inspiration for me in the last couple of months (I wear the blue short-shorts he gave me from his marathon everyday when I run), and mapped out a route in my neighborhood: 6.23 miles, or 10 kilometers [http://www.mapmyrun.com/run/united-states/ma/worcester/256125628290026119]. I went on itunes and spent a fair amount of time picking out a playlist for the run, trying to organize it to give me some boosts of musical energy when I thought I would need them most.

And this morning, I woke up, got out of bed, stretched, slapped myself in the face a few times, and on my way out the door looked into the mirror and told myself, “Mark, the next time you see yourself you are going to have finished a 10k.” And I did.

The run went about as smoothly as I could have hoped for, at least physically; there were a couple of times when I wasn’t paying attention and accidently crossed the street when I didn’t have to, but really that was all. I tried to store up energy so I would make sure I’d be able to finish the race, but by the end I was still feeling strong, and definitely could have gone longer if I had wanted to. Before the race, I set a goal for myself to finish in 55 minutes, based on how fast I’ve been running recently (I usually average about an 8:40 mile). I finished the 10k in 54:42, which works out to an 8:48 mile, so I was very pleased with myself, especially considering how much energy I still had at the end.

As I came to a stop at the end of the race, there was no tape to break at the finish line, no crowd of screaming observers, no friends to cheer me on. I didn’t get a shirt to commemorate the day, and no one watching me running today probably even knew that I was running a 10k. Despite all that, do I still feel like I ran a race? Hell yes, I do! That was the Pyeongchon leg of the 2009 10k Human Race. And I did it.

Korean Zionists Say the Darndest Things

I continued my very newly formed routine of using my Wednesday off to go into Seoul and do a little exploring of the city yesterday. This time, though, I had an ulterior motive as well: to begin finding a solution to my whole “way too much free time, and not enough to do” problem. I met a group of friends in the city at what was basically a mall of musical instruments and equipment, and with the help of my friend Kevin (the resident expert) purchased myself a guitar! Teaching myself guitar has been one of those things that I’ve told myself I was going to do for a long, long time. When I was in high school, I bought myself a guidebook for lefties, but don’t think I ever opened it. At the beginning of this summer, I told myself again that I would try and teach myself on my brother’s mini guitar at home, but when I found it and realized it was very much out of tune, I basically gave up. It sat it my room until I left for Korea, haunting me as an unkept promise. So for 80,000 won, I figured, “Hell, learning guitar might be just what the doctor ordered for my Korean listlessness.” I guess we’ll have to wait and see if that is true or not.

What makes for a much better story, though, is what happened afterward. We left the mall and were heading toward a park, guitar in tow, when we were stopped by an old Korean man on the street. Any white person who’s been to Korea (and probably most other places in Asia, as well) knows that getting stopped, questioned, interrogated, or hassled on the street simply because you are, well, white, is a not-too-uncommon phenomenon. There is something strangely exciting about being a physical and visual oddity while walking down the street, as long as you’re able to absorb the unbelieving stares of children and the occasional scowl of an elderly woman or two without taking it too personally.

This particular man began the conversation by asking us where we were from. When we told him we were from the United States and Canada, he then explained to us that he was a person who “studies mankind,” and so wanted to know where our families were originally from. When I told him, “Eastern Europe,” he then asked if I was Jewish, to which I hesitantly replied, “Yes,” not quite sure but interested in what his reaction would be.

When the man heard those words, he basically erupted in excitement. “Jewish!” he said. “I love Jewish people!” With a huge smile on his face, he grabbed me hard by the shoulder and began explaining his deep affection for the Jewish people. He reached up to my face and put his fingers on the crest of my nose, examining its size and explaining to me and the others that I had what was according to him a classically-shaped Jewish nose (yes, apparently that stereotype is alive and well, even in Korea). He started singing Hava Nagila, at which point I really couldn’t help but join in for a few seconds.

The man was particularly interested in talking about Israel, though. “Israel and Korea are the same,” he told me, comparing their histories and each country’s relationship with its neighbors (Israel with the Arabs, Korea with the Chinese and Japanese) and explaining that both had to fight for their respective freedom. He told me that he very much admired Golda Meir for her strength and toughness. The man also said that the Hangul people (which is how you say “Korean” in Korean) and Jewish people were “one,” and then asked me how I thought he could help Israel in the best way. I was pretty taken aback by the question (and frankly by the whole interaction), but tried to think on my feet and told him that the best thing he could do would be to spread the word to his Korean friends about how good of a place Israel is (trying to explain Israel Bonds or the JNF just didn’t seem practical at that moment). Meanwhile, the man had grabbed hold of my arm and kept a firm grip for the length of the conversation. After a certain point, I could tell that my friends weren’t as intrigued by the interaction as I was, so I told the man it was nice to meet him and bid him goodbye.

It’s tough to say whether this was a more contemplative experience than doing Tashlich in the Han River, but it was definitely more surprising. Having a conversation in broken English about Judaism and Israel with an old, probably somewhat drunk Korean man is not something I really expected I’d do during my time in Korea, but then again, I think I’ve come to realize that expectations are not a necessarily useful tool in a place as foreign as Korea is to me.

As a final note, I went running tonight with the intention of getting my regular workout in, as well as officially beginning my short-term training for the unofficial 10k I’m pretty sure I’ll be running in a week and a half’s time. I wasn’t feeling particularly energetic when I left, but about a mile and a half or so into the run, I got a sudden burst of energy, and was able to run for just about the entire length of the Chili Peppers playlist on my ipod nano, which worked out to be a little more than 50 minutes and just over 5.5 miles. This is the longest I think I’ve ever run straight—without stopping or walking at some point in the middle—so that, coupled with the fact that I was tired but not completely dead at the end, made me pretty confident that I at least won’t have any trouble finishing the 10k. I’ve found that with running, I’m at the stage that I’m physically capable of more than I think I am, so it’s really just about putting mind over matter. And thus, I leave you with my self-indulgent shout-out for the day.

Smells like fish...I mean feet...I mean fish...

Hello out there! So, as seems to becoming a recurring trend, it’s been a while since I’ve written last, but I figured that my last quick spurt of posts would hold you over alright. Things here have been going pretty well for me. I’ve settled in nicely at work, so the teaching is getting to be pretty easy (if not a bit mundane). Two of the Interview classes that I teach (and honestly, probably my two favorites) have gotten cancelled, which means I’m down to teaching only five a week, or 15 hours. If you are saying to yourself, “wow, that isn’t very many hours, Mark must have a ton of free time!!” then you are absolutely right- it’s not, and I do.

I’ve still been struggling a bit with the whole quest to find something to fill my time. I was talking to a new friend the other day about running, and she told me that she was going to run a 10k in Seoul in the coming months, so I’m thinking about trying to work toward that. I’ve been running about 5 or 6 times a week pretty consistently since I’ve been here, so I feel like I’m in good shape to attempt a 10k, but I would need to start building up my distances; I usually only run a couple of miles, sometimes because I get tired but sometimes because I start to get a little bored and end up convincing myself I’m tired. I’m not sure how much the idea of running a race in the city smothered by thousands of Koreans really appeals to me, but at least it would give me something to work toward, and the first time I put my relatively new running routine to the test.

In any case, here is a story about another one of those, “Yeah, as it turns out I really am in Korea” moments: On Sunday, I was hanging out with a bunch of friends at their apartment in Seoul proper (the Seoulleong area) when we decided to head out for a visit to “Dr. Fish,” a place where you can go and soak your feet in tanks while dozens of little fish nibble at your dead skin. I’d heard about places like this from people who had already visited Korea before I left home, so it was definitely on my list of things to do. Based on descriptions from others and my own imagination, I had envisioned the place looking something like this: a bare, well lit room with steam coming up from the floor, soft Oriental music playing in the background, and a crew of traditionally dressed hajimas (older women) who would massage my shoulders as the fish took care of my feet.

Suffice it to say that I was a bit off. We got off the elevator and walked into the place to find…a coffee shop. And not just any coffee shop. A big, modernly designed coffee shop, packed with pastel colored fuzzy furniture, an all-you-can-drink coffee and all-you-can-eat bread buffet, and a menu of overly-priced drinks and gelato. The fish tanks were small and unassuming, pushed off to the side of the café and hardly noticeable if you weren’t looking for it. I was pretty shocked to realize that a fish-foot-massage parlor would be located inside a chic café, but I’ve come to learn that in Korea, the line between hip/modern and old-school/traditional is often hard to distinguish.

We ordered drinks (which we had to do to gain access to the buffet and the fish) and sat and talked for a while before heading over to the tanks. Once there, we disrobed (well, more like took our shoes off and rolled up our jeans, but I like that word a lot better) and were given 20 minutes to go at it. There were two different tanks, each of which was about six feet long, two feet wide, and a foot deep, and each containing two different sizes of fish: one with babies about an inch long, the other with slightly bigger ones, but still no more than a couple inches.

We started out at the bigger fish tank, and as soon as we dropped our feet into the water, the fish swarmed, going at the bottoms of our feet and between our toes with a ferocious tenacity. They especially liked my feet in particular, maybe because of their size but more likely because of the calluses I have on my toes and heels (Mmmm, tasty!). It took some getting used to for the first few minutes- definitely very ticklish, but actually pretty relaxing once I settled in. I can’t say the same for some of my friends who came with me, garnering some funny looks from the people sitting nearby because of their yelps and giggling from the fish-induced sensations. After about five minutes in the first tank, we moved to the baby-fish tank, which was pretty similar, although their biting felt more like a pins-and-needles effect than someone just trying to tickle your feet.

While I don’t think the fish really ate any of the skin off my feet, it was still a really interesting and surprisingly calming adventure, one that I promise to provide for anyone who decides to come visit me here (as if you needed any more incentive). To cap off the day in appropriate fashion, that night we headed to a huge wholesale fish market near the Jamsil area where we picked out a couple of large sole from a tank that were then cut up and prepared for us as sashimi and this ridiculously spicy (even for my quickly shifting standards) soup at a restaurant above the market. From fish to feet and back to fish; I guess it is true that what goes around comes around.