The general tone and intent of this post is to acknowledge the severity of recent events on the Korean peninsula while keeping their overall scope in perspective… at least as I see it from my corner of Korea.
First, the very reality that I am writing this post confirms that, of course, nothing physical or immediately logistical in nature has occurred to me personally from the events. Second, I think it is important that I let the less informed readers understand what has occurred on a South Korean island in the disputed region between North and South Korea. Saying that, I would like to avoid making my blog a political rostrum while maintaining the cultural integrity of the content.
I was informed sometime around 6:00 PM yesterday that an artillery attack was made by North Korea, at around 2:30, on the island of Yeongpyeong, situated in a part of the Yellow Sea that was the site of an alleged North Korean sinking of a South Korean ship during the summer. However, unlike the previous incident in which North Korea denies any blame for, this attack was unequivocally a strike from North Korean artillery. Because the aggressor was, on this occasion, indisputable, South Korea responded by launching a number of aircraft to return fire on the entrenched guns on the North Korean coastline. Additionally, unlike this summer’s incident, the attack was targeted at civilian buildings. The result was the death of two Korean soldiers as well as two civilians, so far counted.
Aggressive acts taken by North Korea, both discretely and in plain view, are not unprecedented in the history of North and South since the close of the Korean War and the armistice that concluded it. However, what makes this event strikingly different from previous ones is three major factors: 1) the attack was deliberate and with clear intent, 2) South Korea retaliated with force of arms in direct response 3) the attack incurred both military and civilian casualties.
As I gather, the civilian destruction and casualties are the greatest factor in explaining South Korea’s stance on the situation which, as articulated by President Lee Myung-Bak, demands “enormous retaliation.” At the moment, the US has made troops readily available and pledges its continuous support to South Korea but remains, for now, unwilling to taking action beyond the diplomatic realm. Similarly, Japan supports South Korea but is suing for a diplomatic resolution while China, characteristically though frustratingly, is “concerned” about the situation and is waiting for further information before it takes any kind of stance of its own. China, though, is the linchpin in the whole situation as the only country that remains sympathetic in, any way, to North Korea’s brinkmanship.
As it stands now, there is a lot still up in the air and it is difficult to determine the consequences that can be expected in the future. On one end, North Korea’s attack is nothing unusual to its typically irrational and extreme approach towards gaining a political foothold as a failing and starving nation among more stable and powerful states. North Korea’s radical measures, flag shipped by this event and the recent revelation of a new uranium-enrichment program that is now underway, are the only bargaining chips the country can muster to turn bigger heads of the world. Still, the magnitude of the circumstance makes it not unreasonable to consider the escalation of hostilities to a degree that could become difficult if not impossible to control. I think the next few days and weeks will do a great deal in giving us a sense of the that course this event will send the nations involved on.
With that being said, as I try to pull myself from the discussion to avoid any unneeded political punditry, I am sitting here in my apartment on a Wednesday, typing away and it is business as usual. While I my lingual ineptitude might not make me the most accurate of gauges for this kind of thing, it seems like the whole city is still business as usual. I’ve been in contact with my friend that I met up with in Seoul and her message to me last night, in her effective and competently written though mildly basic English, she explained to me that “Korea is dangerous because of N. Korea.” She is right, and to be honest, there might be a greater deal of concern for people in Seoul who reside just below the 38th parallel. However, this part of the conversation took place right after her distress over Korea’s loss in the semi-finals to the UAB during Asian Games going on right now. I had actually been watching the game myself and I had never seen Korea play such fancy soccer and miss so many golden opportunities as the team that absolutely should have won. Luckily, we got to watch Korea demolish Saudi Arabia (nothing against Saudi Arabia, I just have a special place for Korea in my heart) in handball, which was really pretty awesome. Either way, the overall concern in Korea, at the moment, remains mildly alert without any real change in attitude or daily activity.
In other news, my training for my half marathon here in Gwangju is going more or less smoothly. It hasn’t really been much more than maintaining what I’ve built up to since the past two marathons. There hasn’t really been any time to do much else. I have two fellow colleagues chalked to do it along with me and I think we might be able to expect a solid degree of support from the good people at LCI. I go in with zero expectations, knowing that I’m at the tail end of my marathoning “season” and that because this is my first half it means I’m just posting a time for me to beat in the future. My real concern after this race is keeping up my training with the cold weather getting worse and no real race in front of me until either the half at Rutgers in April or the full in Pittsburgh in May----Oh, that’s right, you heard it right, I’m making advanced plans in…wait for it…America. Pretty cool, huh? The one other bit of Marathoning news occurred today when I got a phone call from Seoul, in the morning, regarding the Joongang Seoul Marathon. As it turns out, I took 2nd place in the 20-29 age group, which entitles me to a gift certificate to New Balance(unfortunately a brand I refuse to wear) and a jacket. I’m not sure what the jacket will look like but it’s free so I’m excited.
At school, we have to go in for a couple of hours for parent/teacher conferences on Saturday morning. Being that this is my second year around this stuff is all old hat, of course and it will be nice to have an excuse to tame my weekend down a little bit -especially after Chris’ Birthday Extravaganza last weekend, which was awesome but I am getting too tired to write about.
Well, that should do it for now.
For the time being, all is (relatively) quiet on the Eastern Front.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
RUNS TO RUNS
HAPPY PEPERO DAY! I am sure most of you are current with the latest commercial holidays instituted in Korea during the past two decades or so but, for those of you in the dark, allow me to explain. Pepero, originally, was simply a baked, cookie-like stick dipped two thirds of the way in chocolate. However, since its inception, it has experienced an expanded field of incarnations including, but not limited to, the traditional Pepero format but dipped in chocolate with chopped almonds, the basic Pepero stick on the outside with chocolate filling on the inside, as well as a number of chocolate dip variations such as strawberry and raspberry.
From what you have just learned about Pepero I am certain that many of you already drawn the conclusion that an entire day would, inevitably, be dedicated to these innovative morsels and, of course, you would be right. Though I have done little research of my own to delve into the origins of this holiday, I was informed by a colleague of mine that the idea for the holiday was given life when a group of school girls made the bold declaration that they would strive to be as thin as the confected sticks they held in their possession. Though their logic was, perhaps, mildly flawed, these Susan B. Anthonys of delightful treats had fluttered the wings that would eventually amount to the indomitable tempest that Pepero Day has become.
From modest and misguided beginnings, Pepero is now a living, breathing behemoth of a commercial holiday. It dwarfs Valentine’s Day in shameless exploitation of romantic protocol by corporate institutions. At no time in my life have I seen a single company, so single-handedly and so absolutely claim rights to an entire day. With a skeleton history to base itself upon, the Pepero think tanks have embedded the memory of their artificial anniversary into the minds of the masses by declaring November 11th the day of devotion to decadence- a stroke of genius from the “Mad Men” of Seoul to take advantage of 11/11 which recalls the image of four sticks of Pepero standing neatly in a row. While I sound cynical of Pepero Day, I am actually just as indifferent to is as I am to Valentine’s Day. I think it’s a nice idea but am somewhat jaded by the reality of its origins. Either way, I have another year’s supply of Pepero at my desk and am about 40,000 won poorer for the effort. It’s well worth a few smiles on a random Thursday.
If I remember correctly, and I do remember correctly because I have the post available to me right above this one, I was last recorded discussing my experience at the Gyeongju International Marathon. Since then, I have run the Seoul International Marathon over the most recently passed weekend. This is the same marathon that I ran last year where I recorded a less than laudable 3:16:52. Though I didn’t perform as well as I had hoped last year, I was still happy to have done it as my first marathon in Korea and enjoyed the company of my entourage which included a number of friends who have since departed Korea, Sarah, Aiden and Tina along with my indispensable Korean savvy comrade, Charles, who remains in my company.
This time around I made the journey alone and to no fault of my ever-stalwart friends back here in Gwangju. First of all, most of them came out to watch me during my triumphant effort in Gyeongju. Second of all, Seoul has a way of being really expensive no matter how cheap you try to make it. Third, marathons are pretty cool to people who run them but aren’t always that thrilling to those watching it, with the exception being, maybe, the few moments out of three hours that they get to see their friend passing by.
I arrived at the marathon with mixed emotions and intents. I was satisfied with my performance in Gyeongju but also recognized that I was in a rare position to carry my success to even greater heights by being only three weeks removed from my last one. A good part of me considered taking it easy and enjoying the race, which is something I have never let myself do and probably won’t be able to bring myself to do until I get much older, but, in the end, I decided to go out and see what I could make happen,
Though my bib number entitled me to nothing more than a spot in the fourth and last corral at the start, I utilized some Korean-style pushing and managed to position myself close to the front of the race. When the race started I acted ambitiously and thrusted myself toward the head of the procession. The thought in my mind was that in Gyeongju I was somewhat hesitant to put myself too far forward just to let it slip but this time I knew I had it in me and wasn’t going to back down from the challenge. This approach gave me increasing confidence as I systematically improved my overall position among the masses during the first 10 to 15 kilometers. Though the weather was a bit overcast, the conditions were actually very suitable for the prolonged run the 12,000 of us would be undertaking. The first 10 kilometers offered me the promise I had hoped for and the strength in my legs was as evident then as it was at .001 kilometers. However, my single qualm was that I could detect a substantial amount of activity within my intestinal complex that made me concerned for what may come. At the time, the consequence was only a degree of discomfort and I was able to, more or less, push it from my mind to concentrate on more important things. Unfortunately, that struggle to keep everything at bay for the duration was given up around kilometer 19 when I submitted to the reality that I would have to make a pit stop before I could venture into the back 20 kilometers of the 42 kilometer scamper. **Let it be noted, as it can be corroborated by a number of eyewitnesses, I have repeatedly confessed that my greatest fear in a marathon is to be afflicted with some kind of intestinal malady that would force me to take my soles off the pavement, knowing that it would mean the death of my best possible time** Sure enough, this considerable inconvenience evolved into catastrophe when I finally stopped to inquire about the nearest facilities. My appeal was answered by a less than interested police officer who responded by walking down the side street he was patrolling at a stroll that looked leisurely if not entirely oblivious to the urgency of the situation. As I followed the officer at a slow jog and implored him to move more quickly he finally reached a series of doors and proceeded to inspect each one for access- no dice. In my mind, I offered the man a thanks for doing exactly what I could have done, only quicker and directed my attention elsewhere to find help. Finally, I was directed by a middle-aged man further up the street where, after a few small incidents, I found my way to a bathroom which, to my great fortune, was western style and fully equipped with toilet paper. I was able to quickly get over the fact that after some frantic searching I was unable to find a light switch and resigned myself to doing business in the dark.
Following my surreal experience in abyssal darkness with my running delirium playing tricks on me while I could hear the ethereal voices of some sort of old lady choir in the next hall, I removed myself from my peculiar environs and put myself back in the race. When I returned to the foray my heart sank as I thought it would. When I had left the race, I was among the thinning lines of the front runners of the race- where I felt like I should be. When I came back I was right back among the throngs of three hour and three hour ten marathoners. While a 3:10 marathon is nothing to sniff at, I knew it was below what I was capable of. Returning to the course, I confronted the second half of themarathon in a dark mood, discontent brimming within. As I got back into it, I was so demoralized and disappointed that I began surging ahead with little concern for the long term and focusing only on running the regret out of me. I would later get a chance to see the runners I had been alongside before the travesty as they doubled back on the return trip of the course so as to compound my disenchantment with my potential breakout day.
Knowing that my loftiest of prospects for the day were in ashes, I began to concentrate on simply breaking the three hour mark. Now, only one marathon prior, I would have been perfectly content with that aspiration but, once achieved there is no benefit to hoping for redundant accomplishments.
The rest of the marathon actually went rather smoothly. The notion of being competitive was clear from my mind and what remained was a plan to cruise to the finish line. I was more comfortable and confident than I have ever been so late into a race and there was no crisis of faith that is frequently present in the final stretches of the race. In fact, in Gyeongju, I had begun to fear that, around mile 22, I had used everything up and I had completely blown my chances. However, as I came to final four kilometers of the race in Seoul, I began to experience a familiar feeling that I was so dreading up until then. As my body is want to do, when it tries to take care of business during a run (up until now this scenario had only occurred during training) it typically fails to tie up loose ends and eventually has to deal with it at a later time. This instance was no different and with a fraction of the marathon remaining my eyes began to scour my surroundings for reprieve to my discomfort. I could feel my pace slacken with the increase of discomfort that my body felt and I was becoming desperate. Luckily, because I failed to find anything that resembled a bathroom I forced myself to the finish line without further incident.
When I looked up at the time, I was certain I had read something to the tune of 3:02. For only the second time in my nine marathons (Boston being the other instance where I ran the worst marathon of my career), I crossed the line with a noticeable look of disappointment. While I was, as anyone should be, happy to have finished the marathon, I was left with a day of empty expectations. Knowing that I had actually put myself pretty close to the start of the marathon at the beginning, I didn’t expect my net time to be too far off from my gun time. The reality set in that I had even failed to achieve my secondary goal by what I expected to be a matter of seconds.
I exited the race as I did last year and as, I believe, you do at most Korean marathons with no pageantry or excitement. I walked through a small tent where they gave me small bag of snacks and my medal and out into an ordinary day in Seoul with atypically sore legs and a viscerally defunct body.
Though the day remained overcast, my spirits couldn’t stay so for long. This was true on account of two things. First, it is morally reprehensible to be dispirited after successfully running 26.2 miles and second, I was on my way to meet a friend that I hadn’t seen in quite some time from our trip to Jeju-do.
Though I was nervous to meet her because it had been so long since I had seen her and I knew that her English wasn’t terribly comprehensive and my Korean was even less so, I knew it was worth the effort to give it a try.
Because of certain pressing matters, my friend Jeong Eun was unable to meet me when we had first planned which proved to be a windfall for me as it gave me more time to resolve my intestinal unrest. Also, I happily learned later that I was important enough for Jeong Eun to inform her workplace that she would be arriving late on account of yours truly. When we did finally meet, my stomach (as per usual after a marathon) was not up to receiving anything too solid so we went to a coffee shop and caught up. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that our hodgepodge exchange of English and Korean proved relatively effective and, while there were moments of confusion, it turned out to be a very enjoyable afternoon. I was a little sad to finally have to say good-bye and make way back to the far off reaches of Gwangju by the end of it and already look forward to the chance of meeting up again. While I recognize that distance, language and time (I am heading back to the states in five months) render anything serious from emerging from our relationship, I am happy that I’ve had the chance to get to know her thus far.
Later, the day brightened more in a bittersweet way, when I received a text message from the Seoul Marathon that I had, in fact, run a 2:56:23 that day. I was very pleased to discover that I had broken three hours after all but as I thought further I realized that it is a certainty that I would have had personal best if I hadn’t met with difficulty during the race. In a way, I was rewarded a 2:56 for a sub-2:50 effort. The disappointment is palpable but I have to remind myself that this gives me a good reason to be more confident in my ability in the future.
Besides the marathon, preparations for our 2010 Graduation production are underway. My songs are set and my story is written. While I have no desire to divulge the details of this theatrical masterpiece before it is properly released to the public, I can say a few things. Because I have met with such success in the No-Rae-Bangs (Karaoke Rooms) singing “Africa” by Toto, I pretty much designed my entire graduation around it. I also finagled a Bon Jovi song into the works (Blaze of Glory) as an homage to my class’ namesake-Princeton- the Ivy of New Jersey.
Also, we recently had our annual Family Hiking Day with all the family’s of our kindergarten students during a Saturday in October. While it’s called a Hiking Day it really is much more of a Field Day. It comprises of a short trail walk where teachers are strewn throughout the course hosting various games for the kids to play before we all congregate in an open field where more challenges of physical strength and dexterity take place. While days like this mean we have to work during a Saturday one weekend, I actually look upon them with a degree of welcome appreciation. Events like this are the one time that I have the chance to be with my kids without any disciplinary strings attached which has a great deal of impact on how I interact with this year’s class. Though I have grown to really enjoy this year’s Princeton class, one of our major issues remains discipline which can frequently prevent me from showing my most cheerful and spirited side. For once, I had a chance to just play with my kids and let them do, pretty much, whatever they wanted. On top of the that, the weather was extremely accommodating and the park where it took place is nestled very picturesquely within the mountains, beside a small lake and happened right as the leaves of Autumn began their yearly prismatic transformation.
That, for most part, brings things up to speed. November looks to be a lean month for me as I cut back my spending for our trip to Beijing which has already been booked. We expect that the weather will be fiercely adverse to our foreign enterprise during the last week of December but being as it is my last break in the Orient for the foreseeable future I can’t turn my back to the Beast of the East. Also, next weekend is Chris’ birthday so expenses are even more uncertain though it might make for some good stories. Only time will tell.
Until then, America...
From what you have just learned about Pepero I am certain that many of you already drawn the conclusion that an entire day would, inevitably, be dedicated to these innovative morsels and, of course, you would be right. Though I have done little research of my own to delve into the origins of this holiday, I was informed by a colleague of mine that the idea for the holiday was given life when a group of school girls made the bold declaration that they would strive to be as thin as the confected sticks they held in their possession. Though their logic was, perhaps, mildly flawed, these Susan B. Anthonys of delightful treats had fluttered the wings that would eventually amount to the indomitable tempest that Pepero Day has become.
From modest and misguided beginnings, Pepero is now a living, breathing behemoth of a commercial holiday. It dwarfs Valentine’s Day in shameless exploitation of romantic protocol by corporate institutions. At no time in my life have I seen a single company, so single-handedly and so absolutely claim rights to an entire day. With a skeleton history to base itself upon, the Pepero think tanks have embedded the memory of their artificial anniversary into the minds of the masses by declaring November 11th the day of devotion to decadence- a stroke of genius from the “Mad Men” of Seoul to take advantage of 11/11 which recalls the image of four sticks of Pepero standing neatly in a row. While I sound cynical of Pepero Day, I am actually just as indifferent to is as I am to Valentine’s Day. I think it’s a nice idea but am somewhat jaded by the reality of its origins. Either way, I have another year’s supply of Pepero at my desk and am about 40,000 won poorer for the effort. It’s well worth a few smiles on a random Thursday.
If I remember correctly, and I do remember correctly because I have the post available to me right above this one, I was last recorded discussing my experience at the Gyeongju International Marathon. Since then, I have run the Seoul International Marathon over the most recently passed weekend. This is the same marathon that I ran last year where I recorded a less than laudable 3:16:52. Though I didn’t perform as well as I had hoped last year, I was still happy to have done it as my first marathon in Korea and enjoyed the company of my entourage which included a number of friends who have since departed Korea, Sarah, Aiden and Tina along with my indispensable Korean savvy comrade, Charles, who remains in my company.
This time around I made the journey alone and to no fault of my ever-stalwart friends back here in Gwangju. First of all, most of them came out to watch me during my triumphant effort in Gyeongju. Second of all, Seoul has a way of being really expensive no matter how cheap you try to make it. Third, marathons are pretty cool to people who run them but aren’t always that thrilling to those watching it, with the exception being, maybe, the few moments out of three hours that they get to see their friend passing by.
I arrived at the marathon with mixed emotions and intents. I was satisfied with my performance in Gyeongju but also recognized that I was in a rare position to carry my success to even greater heights by being only three weeks removed from my last one. A good part of me considered taking it easy and enjoying the race, which is something I have never let myself do and probably won’t be able to bring myself to do until I get much older, but, in the end, I decided to go out and see what I could make happen,
Though my bib number entitled me to nothing more than a spot in the fourth and last corral at the start, I utilized some Korean-style pushing and managed to position myself close to the front of the race. When the race started I acted ambitiously and thrusted myself toward the head of the procession. The thought in my mind was that in Gyeongju I was somewhat hesitant to put myself too far forward just to let it slip but this time I knew I had it in me and wasn’t going to back down from the challenge. This approach gave me increasing confidence as I systematically improved my overall position among the masses during the first 10 to 15 kilometers. Though the weather was a bit overcast, the conditions were actually very suitable for the prolonged run the 12,000 of us would be undertaking. The first 10 kilometers offered me the promise I had hoped for and the strength in my legs was as evident then as it was at .001 kilometers. However, my single qualm was that I could detect a substantial amount of activity within my intestinal complex that made me concerned for what may come. At the time, the consequence was only a degree of discomfort and I was able to, more or less, push it from my mind to concentrate on more important things. Unfortunately, that struggle to keep everything at bay for the duration was given up around kilometer 19 when I submitted to the reality that I would have to make a pit stop before I could venture into the back 20 kilometers of the 42 kilometer scamper. **Let it be noted, as it can be corroborated by a number of eyewitnesses, I have repeatedly confessed that my greatest fear in a marathon is to be afflicted with some kind of intestinal malady that would force me to take my soles off the pavement, knowing that it would mean the death of my best possible time** Sure enough, this considerable inconvenience evolved into catastrophe when I finally stopped to inquire about the nearest facilities. My appeal was answered by a less than interested police officer who responded by walking down the side street he was patrolling at a stroll that looked leisurely if not entirely oblivious to the urgency of the situation. As I followed the officer at a slow jog and implored him to move more quickly he finally reached a series of doors and proceeded to inspect each one for access- no dice. In my mind, I offered the man a thanks for doing exactly what I could have done, only quicker and directed my attention elsewhere to find help. Finally, I was directed by a middle-aged man further up the street where, after a few small incidents, I found my way to a bathroom which, to my great fortune, was western style and fully equipped with toilet paper. I was able to quickly get over the fact that after some frantic searching I was unable to find a light switch and resigned myself to doing business in the dark.
Following my surreal experience in abyssal darkness with my running delirium playing tricks on me while I could hear the ethereal voices of some sort of old lady choir in the next hall, I removed myself from my peculiar environs and put myself back in the race. When I returned to the foray my heart sank as I thought it would. When I had left the race, I was among the thinning lines of the front runners of the race- where I felt like I should be. When I came back I was right back among the throngs of three hour and three hour ten marathoners. While a 3:10 marathon is nothing to sniff at, I knew it was below what I was capable of. Returning to the course, I confronted the second half of themarathon in a dark mood, discontent brimming within. As I got back into it, I was so demoralized and disappointed that I began surging ahead with little concern for the long term and focusing only on running the regret out of me. I would later get a chance to see the runners I had been alongside before the travesty as they doubled back on the return trip of the course so as to compound my disenchantment with my potential breakout day.
Knowing that my loftiest of prospects for the day were in ashes, I began to concentrate on simply breaking the three hour mark. Now, only one marathon prior, I would have been perfectly content with that aspiration but, once achieved there is no benefit to hoping for redundant accomplishments.
The rest of the marathon actually went rather smoothly. The notion of being competitive was clear from my mind and what remained was a plan to cruise to the finish line. I was more comfortable and confident than I have ever been so late into a race and there was no crisis of faith that is frequently present in the final stretches of the race. In fact, in Gyeongju, I had begun to fear that, around mile 22, I had used everything up and I had completely blown my chances. However, as I came to final four kilometers of the race in Seoul, I began to experience a familiar feeling that I was so dreading up until then. As my body is want to do, when it tries to take care of business during a run (up until now this scenario had only occurred during training) it typically fails to tie up loose ends and eventually has to deal with it at a later time. This instance was no different and with a fraction of the marathon remaining my eyes began to scour my surroundings for reprieve to my discomfort. I could feel my pace slacken with the increase of discomfort that my body felt and I was becoming desperate. Luckily, because I failed to find anything that resembled a bathroom I forced myself to the finish line without further incident.
When I looked up at the time, I was certain I had read something to the tune of 3:02. For only the second time in my nine marathons (Boston being the other instance where I ran the worst marathon of my career), I crossed the line with a noticeable look of disappointment. While I was, as anyone should be, happy to have finished the marathon, I was left with a day of empty expectations. Knowing that I had actually put myself pretty close to the start of the marathon at the beginning, I didn’t expect my net time to be too far off from my gun time. The reality set in that I had even failed to achieve my secondary goal by what I expected to be a matter of seconds.
I exited the race as I did last year and as, I believe, you do at most Korean marathons with no pageantry or excitement. I walked through a small tent where they gave me small bag of snacks and my medal and out into an ordinary day in Seoul with atypically sore legs and a viscerally defunct body.
Though the day remained overcast, my spirits couldn’t stay so for long. This was true on account of two things. First, it is morally reprehensible to be dispirited after successfully running 26.2 miles and second, I was on my way to meet a friend that I hadn’t seen in quite some time from our trip to Jeju-do.
Though I was nervous to meet her because it had been so long since I had seen her and I knew that her English wasn’t terribly comprehensive and my Korean was even less so, I knew it was worth the effort to give it a try.
Because of certain pressing matters, my friend Jeong Eun was unable to meet me when we had first planned which proved to be a windfall for me as it gave me more time to resolve my intestinal unrest. Also, I happily learned later that I was important enough for Jeong Eun to inform her workplace that she would be arriving late on account of yours truly. When we did finally meet, my stomach (as per usual after a marathon) was not up to receiving anything too solid so we went to a coffee shop and caught up. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that our hodgepodge exchange of English and Korean proved relatively effective and, while there were moments of confusion, it turned out to be a very enjoyable afternoon. I was a little sad to finally have to say good-bye and make way back to the far off reaches of Gwangju by the end of it and already look forward to the chance of meeting up again. While I recognize that distance, language and time (I am heading back to the states in five months) render anything serious from emerging from our relationship, I am happy that I’ve had the chance to get to know her thus far.
Later, the day brightened more in a bittersweet way, when I received a text message from the Seoul Marathon that I had, in fact, run a 2:56:23 that day. I was very pleased to discover that I had broken three hours after all but as I thought further I realized that it is a certainty that I would have had personal best if I hadn’t met with difficulty during the race. In a way, I was rewarded a 2:56 for a sub-2:50 effort. The disappointment is palpable but I have to remind myself that this gives me a good reason to be more confident in my ability in the future.
Besides the marathon, preparations for our 2010 Graduation production are underway. My songs are set and my story is written. While I have no desire to divulge the details of this theatrical masterpiece before it is properly released to the public, I can say a few things. Because I have met with such success in the No-Rae-Bangs (Karaoke Rooms) singing “Africa” by Toto, I pretty much designed my entire graduation around it. I also finagled a Bon Jovi song into the works (Blaze of Glory) as an homage to my class’ namesake-Princeton- the Ivy of New Jersey.
Also, we recently had our annual Family Hiking Day with all the family’s of our kindergarten students during a Saturday in October. While it’s called a Hiking Day it really is much more of a Field Day. It comprises of a short trail walk where teachers are strewn throughout the course hosting various games for the kids to play before we all congregate in an open field where more challenges of physical strength and dexterity take place. While days like this mean we have to work during a Saturday one weekend, I actually look upon them with a degree of welcome appreciation. Events like this are the one time that I have the chance to be with my kids without any disciplinary strings attached which has a great deal of impact on how I interact with this year’s class. Though I have grown to really enjoy this year’s Princeton class, one of our major issues remains discipline which can frequently prevent me from showing my most cheerful and spirited side. For once, I had a chance to just play with my kids and let them do, pretty much, whatever they wanted. On top of the that, the weather was extremely accommodating and the park where it took place is nestled very picturesquely within the mountains, beside a small lake and happened right as the leaves of Autumn began their yearly prismatic transformation.
That, for most part, brings things up to speed. November looks to be a lean month for me as I cut back my spending for our trip to Beijing which has already been booked. We expect that the weather will be fiercely adverse to our foreign enterprise during the last week of December but being as it is my last break in the Orient for the foreseeable future I can’t turn my back to the Beast of the East. Also, next weekend is Chris’ birthday so expenses are even more uncertain though it might make for some good stories. Only time will tell.
Until then, America...
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