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Spring

March 21

when spring pops

peach blossoms

out of spindly wood,

sharpens the hued blue

and your skin picks

up the unmistakable 

promise that this chill

will turn into a prickle

of warm, cooling sweat—

all that’s inside

your body 

wants to be unleashed 

into this atmospheric 

joy

Tri for Fun

I did a thing! Last month, I finished the Jinshan triathlon with my new colleague-friends from my new school. My performance in the race was objectively satisfying – personal bests in two of the disciplines! Even better: the connection I felt with the other Eagles (our school mascot) who also raced that day was by far the highlight for me.

Those who give advice about doing triathlons say the key to these silly races is finding a way to get comfortable within great discomfort. There were 9 of us from the school who participated in the race, and every one of us had some noticeable level of discomfort. Four were doing their first triathlon ever. That’s a special experience like drinking from a fire hose of new information and trying to imagine something that has only existed in theory until race day. One was doing her first race in almost twenty years; she was wondering if her body and mind would remember that this is something she could do (again). Several of us held active fear about swimming in open water, about meeting performance-based goals, about being overwhelmed by the details of transitioning quickly from phase to phase, about meeting time cut offs. Many of us wondered if we’d done enough training to be ready. There were concerns about equipment and nutrition. Being new to the country, my biggest obstacles we getting a bike (a new friend loaned me one), figuring out how to get to the race location, booking a hotel, and then I had a moment during the practice swim the day before the race when the wind was smacking waves right into my face when I was supposedly doing an easy 300 meter water test. 

Most of these vulnerabilities were shared as we talked in the days leading up to the event, and it led to just the right amounts of encouragement. Sometimes it was a pep talk, sometimes a piece of advice about preparing gear, or even just organizing the transportation to and from the race site. The mutual support and sharing of experience brought about a particular form of cohesion and seemed to make all of it easier. 

The race was only 84 days after I first arrived in China for a new job. In every part of my training and race experience I was connected (often reliant) on others. There were a lot of big training achievements for me in the last 2 months, so I was excited for race day. However, triathlons are full of a range of often contradictory experiences. My favorite moment was when I made the turn on the run to begin the final loop. My new friends were sitting on the concrete wall overlooking the u-turn that marks the halfway point of the run course. As I approached the cone, I was cooked and really wanted to be done. My friends cheered like crazy when they saw me – it was a kind and generous moment. Their energy gave me the boost I needed to keep running out of the turn and into the last stretch of the course. 

My friends sitting along that wall on that overcast Saturday morning had already finished their races. They’d experienced their individual moment of “I did it!” and had begun their recovery. It’s not a big stretch to imagine that they could relate to what I was feeling at that moment when I came running up to the turnaround. However, they couldn’t have known how much I needed them partly because I didn’t know it myself until they were whooping and cheering. They were there. And they cheered. 

And I won’t forget it. 

It’s good to be here!

My “Victory” Pose

Cicadas

The bugs here are incredible. 

Cicadas, specifically. When we arrived in Shanghai midsummer, the cicadas were so loud that I often couldn’t hear what Susannah or Julia were saying when we were walking down the street. 

Of all the ideas I had in anticipating Shanghai, this wasn’t one of them. 

It has me thinking of the first time I learned about cicadas: I’d moved from a beach town in San Diego to Annapolis, Maryland, which, with a population of around 30,000, was smaller than my hometown. 

While Annapolis has water on eight sides of it and is a state capital, you don’t have to go far from the steps of the Capitol building to reach working farms. In the time I lived there, I’d associated the summer hum of those dinosauric insects with the combo of summer humidity and small town life. So, I was quite surprised to get to my new home here in Shanghai – with a population of 28 million give or take – and have the constant sound of this city by the deafening cicada shrieks.

I’m thinking too about the unexpected sounds of the three other places I’ve lived since moving abroad. In Chennai, the early morning sounds were dominated first by the crows; in Bucharest, it was seagulls who cackled at sun up, followed by a lazy rooster in the neighboring courtyard; before the sun rose in Abidjan, bullfrogs ribbetted at each other in the deep concrete trench across the street from my apartment building. After the sun was up, a rooster up the street who thought he was a peacock showed off his vocals.

The sounds of international cities: crows, seagulls, roosters, bullfrogs, cicadas.