RUNNING THE WORLD: Beijing


Mike Finch |

A SAFFER IN CHINA – What a Chinese city taught me about distance running.

Photographs supplied.
Photographs supplied.

NAME: Lindsay Dentlinger
AGE: 39
PROFESSION: Journalist

When I moved to China last year, I’d hoped running in Beijing would become part of the adventure. I had more time to run than I’d had on fleeting holiday visits in the past; and I was also looking forward to the prospect of running my 15th half marathon on international shores.

I’d had a busy start to my training year, running and cycling in Cape Town; so I decided to run on the streets of Beijing for fun, rather than distance or time. I ran to Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City, the Temple of Heaven and the Temple of the Sun, taking photographs of street scenes along the way.
But Beijing and I didn’t exactly get off to the best start. Frequent stops at busy intersections, and negotiating my way around tuk-tuks and mobile food stalls selling oily breakfasts, did nothing for my Strava stats. And unless it was the crack of dawn, or after 10pm, the inhabitants of Beijing just didn’t run.

Thinking it would be less busy, I tried out a 10km loop of the Olympic Park, taking in the nostalgia of the 2008 Olympics. To my surprise, the parks were just as hectic as the streets.

They were packed full of people, all doing one form of exercise or another: from line dancing to tai chi and rock climbing. Finally, I encountered other runners – but they too were dodging stumbling toddlers on the pathways.

Photographs supplied.
Photographs supplied.

Finding a Foreign Race

It wasn’t long before having fun was no longer enough. Over the past five years, races had been an important part of assessing my progress and recommitting to new goals. I preferred short-distance races, but finding one in Beijing that wasn’t marathon distance proved yet another challenge: there weren’t any.

So I wrote to an expat running club for help.

They responded: “The racing scene in China is not the same as it is in other countries. Frequent, short-distance, organised competitions aren’t part of our culture.”

I could also imagine what a logistical nightmare putting on shorter races would be in Beijing, because of the huge number of people who would want to take part. The Beijing Marathon, for example, works on a ballot system; and in Hong Kong, a single race featuring a variety of distances attracts 23 000 entrants per distance, and they usually sell out within half an hour.

I was beginning to miss South Africa’s jam-packed race calendar. But perhaps not being able to race in Beijing – the absence of reward – would require a greater level of dedication to keep going. I began to admire the dedication of Chinese runners, who line up for one long-distance race every few months, often in a different city.

Photographs supplied.
Photographs supplied.

A Summer Surprise

Within a month, summer arrived – and besides the stifling humidity and early-morning heat, there was also smog to contend with. Not only was it too hot to run, there was something else bothering me: I couldn’t help but wonder why I was hobbling around after getting out of bed in the morning. My legs were genuinely aching.

Here’s why.
Beijing has a population of more than 20 million, and all of those residents have to apply to own a car. So I had to find another way of getting from A to B. Taxi drivers tend not to speak English, which is a challenge in itself. As a result I was often left stranded at the side of the road, with no other choice but to walk.

Songstress Katie Melua’s assumption that there are nine million bicycles in Beijing is pretty accurate, and the city’s roads are equipped for cyclists, but they tend to follow their own traffic rules, and cycle traffic can be just as chaotic as motorised traffic.

Photographs supplied.
Photographs supplied.

The lanes are also shared by electric scooters, e-bikes and tuk-tuks; often with up to three people on a single bike, and riding in the wrong direction. The bus schedules are confusing and erratic.

My best bet to get to work on time was to join the 10 million dedicated folk who use the city’s subway each day. But that involved walking from home to the nearest station, down long passages, and up and down flights of stairs. Once the subway train had reached my stop, I still had to soldier on for another two kilometres. At the weekend, I easily racked up 10 kilometres in a single day, as my partner and I explored the city sights.

It turned out I’d been walking a marathon a week just getting around the city of Beijing. That was more mileage than I had run!

This realisation sparked something in me, because I’d long admired the walkers I’d seen at races – especially those who could walk faster than I could run.

Photographs supplied.
Photographs supplied.

Walking Marathon

Since my first ‘walking marathon’, I’ve walked the Penguin March, then the London Underground, and the Hawaii Archipelago, and then the Serengeti. I’ve astounded myself, because over the last five months, I’ve racked up over 800 kilometres of walking.

I can only hope that when I return to South Africa and get my running back on track, all this walking will stand me in good stead to run my first marathon. Beijing has taught me that I too am capable of dedicating myself to distance – no matter what the obstacles.

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