Race Day

I squatted on the track, baton in hand, staring at the white line in front of me and trying to focus on the next 400 meters. My legs were aching from the exhertions of the day before, including 100 and 200 meter sprints, a 5000 meter (3.1 mile) race, all followed by two hours of intense ultimate frisbee. A great day, but I was going to pay for it now in this first leg of the 4 x 400 relay. But there was no use thinking about those things, it was time to focus on the present, run the best lap that my legs would allow. We might not be able to win, but my competitive nature was still pushing me to run the best race possible. Not much time, I thought, need to get in the zone.

"Herro!"

My thoughts were interrupted by a man sitting to my left wearing a maroon suit. "Hi," I replied with a glance and a small nod, and quickly looked back at the track. Just my luck to get put in lane 1, next to the race official anxious to practice his English.

"Where are you fromah?" he continued. "America." This time I said it without a smile, hoping to discourage him. No such luck; by not saying 'Russia' I had caused him and those around him to murmur in excitement.

"Do you wantah to talk aboutah Boose?" he ventured next. I didn't understand, probably because I could see the man loading the gun that would start the race. "Boose?" I said. "The president," he clarified, with a probing look in his eye. I couldn't believe it. This man wanted to start a political conversation in the final seconds before my race.

"Bush? No! I want to think about this race!" I spoke fast and I doubt he caught the whole meaning, but it didn't matter because the gun had been lifted.

"Get set...!" I raised up on my fingers and toes into starting position.

Boom!

I was off and running in my final race of the meet. We lost horribly to several other very fast teams, all of them in particular. I wish I could blame the race official's interest in politics, or my tired legs, but I suppose I should just say we were way out of our league.

My roommate Jin Chao snapped a picture during the last moments before this race. See my head turned towards the maroon suits?




The track meet process began a few weeks ago with a vague posting on the wall in our dorm asking if anyone wanted to participate. No one seemed to know what it was all about, but a few of us figured it would be fun and signed up for a few events. That was all we heard until last Thursday, when we were called to a meeting in the foreign students classroom building. Three of us Americans from the CET program attended, along with about 15 other students of various nationalities.

At the meeting, we were lectured about the importance of this track meet. It was not to be taken lightly, and by signing up we had implied that we were good at our respective events. A few years ago, a foreign student soccer team had won the school tournament, bringing honor and glory to the 50 countries represented in the department. Achievements were hoped for at the track meet as well. Not showing up to an event would be embarassing and cause everyone to lose face.

I looked uneasily at the other two Americans who had attended this 'mandatory' meeting. We had assumed the meet would be a casual affair and signed up for the fun of a group activity, not for the glory of our country. Our attitude could be summed up by attendance level at the meeting; three out of more than ten who had signed up. In accordance with the seriousness of the track meet, we were all issued baby blue track uniforms with "foriegn student center" printed on them, and some pretty spiffy warm-ups to go with. Here's our group photo wearing the uniforms; notice the diaper-like shape to our short shorts.


Saturday morning, the few of us with a masochistic sense of duty went to the track at 6:30am to be a part of the opening ceremony. This time 4 of us showed up. The comparatively good turnout might have been due to a promised 20 kuai to pay for breakfast. If so, that extra person is probably disappointed because I haven't seen any of the advertised cash. Still, we shouldn't complain. The crowds of students filling the stadium and creating a wonderful atmosphere of excitement were in fact required to be there, all day, from 7:30am until late in the afternoon. I doubt they were getting any breakfast money.

We assembled outside the stadium and were issued helium balloons. Thank goodness the other international students had more of a sense of responsibility than most of us Americans. Most of the foreigners about to parade into the stadium weren't even going to race, and yet here they were at the crack of dawn. It would have been embarrassing to have a poor turnout when all the other groups, representing every department at the school, had around 100 students each. After waiting around for more than an hour, we paraded into the stadium. We were a ragtag bunch, but we had spirit. Sort of. You can't see me in this picture, but I'm there.


For a good laugh, compare us with the other departments in the pics at this website: http://news.hit.edu.cn/articles/2007/05-26/05184915.htm It's possible that we were given the balloons on purpose to make us look like fools. As if we weren't different enough already.

After the parade, we all stood in the infield and listened to the Chinese national anthem as they raised the flag. Surprisingly, it was my first time listening to the national anthem here with a large group of Chinese people. I found it very eerie. I felt like a total outsider in a way I haven't since my first couple of weeks in the country. Here was an entire stadium full of people solemnly respecting a flag that to me symbolizes the political part of China, the part with which I have the most problems and disagreements. I tend to focus on our common ground, but it was hard when listening to the heroic communist march music and watching five yellow stars on a red background rise majestically into the air.

The crowds of students sat with their respective departments and generally filled the time by reciting slogans that they'd made up to represent their department. I only remember part of one of them, chanted incessantly all day by the school of management. I had one of the teachers explain the meaning to me:

"the bird opens his wings,
the morning sun rises in the east,
you and I manage well...."

I forget the last line, but you get the idea.

The stadium was crazy. There was too much going on to take in. Each section was labeled with the name of a department, and usually a banner with their slogan. Lines of balloons were tacked up all over. Huge red helium lanterns floated 50 feet high along the edges of the football field. The chanting of different slogans blended together into a drone with the various noisemakers issued to many groups. Plastic hand clappers were popular. One very annoying section had whistles and used them liberally. It was all right because we were all the way across the stadium, but I pity the group sitting next to them.

In addition to the track and field competitions assiciated, we were treated to endless packs of peppy dance troups in the infield. There were groups of all kinds, mostly girls from different departments at the school, but also middle aged women and even senior citizens. Each followed the same basic pattern, sporting colorful costumes, prancing and waiving their arms in synch to various pop songs. Pom-poms were not uncommon. Basically, high school drill team without the mandatory kick line. The dances were going non-stop throughout the day, at the same time as the competitions. Sometimes there was more than one group dancing at the same time. It was a lot to digest.


My races, other than the 4 x 400 relay, were all on Friday. Friday there were no crowds, as it was mainly for preliminaries. My 4 x 100 relay team was crushed, as was I individually in the 2oom. However, during the 5000 meter race I made the discovery that there are not many HIT students who go running. Although my own 5000 speed is pathetically average when measured against people who do serious running, I took third place against HIT's student body. I should clarify; my competitors were only average students, not the real athletes that compete for the school. One such athlete took part in the race and lapped me twice, but luckily he didn't count so I slipped in at third. In any case, they gave me a cool medal and the leader of the foreign student center was really happy for the honor I brought to the department.


Lots of people were curious whether we have track meets like this in the US. All I could say was, no, not really. But how to describe the difference? Our WSU track meets are more serious than the HIT meet, because all the athletes are very good and compete with other schools. But we're also much more casual, because people aren't forced to attend and chant slogans all day. I could almost compare this to homecoming, with friendly competitions between student groups, but the races at HIT were taken more seriously than any homecoming competitions I've been to. In almost every race, no matter what the length, at least one competitor would fall to the track with their face twisting in agony. I never saw a real injury come out of this; I attribute it to the fact that dropping out from over-exhertion is more honorable than finishing near the back of the pack.

The track meet may have been ridiculous in many ways, but it was fun nonetheless. Despite the vast proportion of the crowd being forced to be there, they were resigned to their fate and seemed to enjoy themselves. It was Mandatory Fun. We use the term at the strict summer camp I've worked at. It means that you're forced to be there, and it's a lot of fun. Mandatory Fun is an oxymoron, and oxymorons are very common in China. Here are a few of other oxymorons that are used: Democratic dictatorship. Liberate Tibet. Oh yeah, and Communist China.

I don't know how the people stay sane living with all this confusion. It's been a year for me, and I guess I know more about the place now than when I showed up, but I still don't understand it. The oxymorons are too abundant. Maybe once I'm home, I'll be able to piece together a more coherent analysis of China. Until then, I have a paper to write and another ping pong lesson this Tuesday.

A rat, and Kobe on the Chinese New Year

A few nights ago I was walking back to the dorm after dinner. It was dark out, but still early so there were plenty of people out for a stroll. A couple of guys ran past me laughing. I saw another guy up ahead dart out into the street from the sidewalk, and I figured the three of them were playing a game of tag. As I continued walking, another couple walking ahead of me also made a sudden lateral move out into the street. I became aware of a sqeaking noise, and was confused for a brief moment. Enlightenment came in the form of a large black rat springing into the air at my feet, forcing me into the same sideways shuffle maneuver I'd just seen performed by my fellow pedestrians.

The animal was insanely energetic. I turned and watched as it scurried back and forth, unable to find its way around the short wall at the edge of the sidewalk. It was constantly changing directions, and squealing like a Dissmores shopping cart. Tracking the dark shape against the shadowy sidewalk was like trying to keep an eye on a ping pong ball at the Chinese national championships, before they changed ball color from white to yellow and increased the diameter to 40mm. Every few seconds the streaking horizontal motion was punctuated with a leap straight into the air. It was during one of these leaps that I became aware of the rodent.

The rat reached knee height and the motion was all vertical, as though caused by a sudden jerk on a string from above; for all you engineers and physicists, the motion of the rat was purely in the x-y plane one moment, and parallel with the z axis the next. I know we all like our physics problems to contain only simple one and two dimensional vectors, but it was very startling behavior in a rat outside weekly homework assignments. The thing would land on the exact spot it left the ground from and resume scurrying without missing a beat. It was probably scared with nowhere to hide, but a scared rat just doesn't inspire the same sympathy in me that most other animals would.

I stayed long enough to watch a few more unsuspecting walkers make the discovery. I thought about warning them, but decided against it. Most people here are startled when I say "Hello, I'm from America" in passable Chinese. Who know's how they'd react to some white guy shouting from the street, "look out, a leaping rat!". If the rat itself wanted to give someone a heart attack jumping around like that, fine, but I didn't want that on my own conscience.

Warning: new, unrelated topic. I keep wanting to mention the NBA in a blog, but it's not enough for a post of it's own and I always forget to add it. I know it's anticlimactic after the rat, but that's just too bad.

I knew the NBA would be well known in China before I ever came here, or at least that Yao Ming would be a big deal. What I didn't realize is just how popular it would be. I've found that almost everyone has a favorite NBA team, and more often than not it's a team other than the Houston Rockets. I guess things would be a little boring around here with hundreds of millions of Rockets fans. It makes sense that they'd branch out. When I first introduce myself to people without a good grasp on American geography, many times it goes like this:

Me: I'm from Washington State.
Them: Oh, the capital of the United States!
Me: No, that's Washington DC. It's confusing, America has two places called Washington.
Them: (look of confusion)
Me: I'm from near a city called Seattle.
Them: (head scratching and squinting)
Me: NBA, Seattle Supersonics.
Them: (grinning with recognition) Ah, NBA! The Sonics! I like the Mavs...hey, you know what? You look just like that guy Nowitzki! He's awesome!

Apparently, basketball is popular enough here for the NBA itself to take notice. At the Chinese new year, some big names were featured in a spot on CCTV5. Yao Ming, Tim Duncan, and Lebron James could all be seen sitting in a big armchair, smiling warmly and saying "Xinnian kuaile." You just don't expect those words coming from a guy like LeBron James. To my even greater surprise, the final representative was Kobe Bryant. While the others were fairly reserved as they spoke, Kobe really got into it. He broke off from the "Xinnian kuaile" pattern, instead saying "Bainian, Bainian" which to me is a more advanced version of happy new year. Instead of just sitting, he clasped his hands together and bowed several times with a big smile. His pronounciation was not bad, and it came of as really genuine. Way to go, Kobe. Now all you have to do is start scoring 60 points a game instead of 50, and next year the Lakers could make it to the conference final. With enough of China supporting you, it might even be possible.