A Marathoner's Diary

A running friend of mine did this for her last marathon and I thought it was a cool idea. So, here is a diary, kilometer by kilometer, of the marathon that I ran in Kenting this weekend. Just as an FYI for those of you who are not metrically-inclined, a marathon is 42.2 kilometers. Thanks for the inspiration, Cheryl!

0 – 5 KM: A special treat

This part of the run was exceptionally enjoyable this time around because I actually had a buddy with me! Chris trained for a 10K race so we got to run side by side for the first 5K until Chris’ turning point. It is amazing how time flies when you have someone to chat with while you jog. We had a great time and I was sad to see him go at the turning point, though he wasn’t too disappointed to be heading back home.

5 – 10 KM: Finding my pace

Back to running alone… kind of. One of the things that makes running races so much more fun than running solo is that you get to run along side a few thousand of your closest friends and, though you may or may not speak the same language, you all enjoy the camaraderie that comes from knowing that you have all trained for the same thing and have come to this point to endure this task together. So, between 5 and 10K, I found my marathon pace and enjoyed looking around at the other crazies running with me.

10 – 15 KM: A first for me

This part of the race was interesting. It has happened several times that, if I run past a gentleman on the road, a sudden sense of inspiration seems to take over and he does whatever it takes to either pass me or at least run next to me. One guy was thusly inspired and chose to run next to me, all the while chatting away in Chinese, some of which I understood and some I didn’t. When he finally began asking me questions beyond my name and country of origin, I was forced to admit that I didn’t speak Chinese at which point he switched to broken English. Immediately after the switch, we evidentially moved to a new level of intimacy; so, he asked me about my activities that afternoon and invited me to his home. After declining his hospitable offer, he asked for my phone number. I’m not kidding. I kindly notified him that, though I wasn’t sporting the ring during the race, I was, in fact married. He persisted in asking for my number and informed me that he would remember it if I told it to him. The whole experience was so humorous to me that I couldn’t let it end there. So, I gave him Chris’ cell phone number just to find out if he could truly remember the number and actually call. No word yet from this dashing Don Juan.

21KM : Half Marathon Envy

In the morning before the race, all of the runners are sporting their color-coded numbers indicating the distance they are about to run. There is a certain air of pride that the full marathoners carry with them and I have to say that I was proud of my red number in the morning. But, when the half marathoners are making their final sprint toward the finish line and I am only halfway finished, I have to admit that I get a twinge of half marathon envy. The sense of envy was exacerbated by the special present that I knew was waiting for me at the halfway point. The first of two giant hills.

21 – 25 KM: Hill #1

I wasn’t exactly sure how steep or how long these two inclines were going to be. I just knew that the altitude diagram looked quite daunting. But, to be honest, the first of the two hills wasn’t too excruciating. The steep portions were interspersed often enough with flat recovery zones so that I was encouraged by the time I reached the top. I made sure to note a landmark of the top of the hill so that, on my way back (as I would be coming up this same hill to reach the finish line at the bottom of the hill I had just come up) I would know where the road started heading downhill again.

25 – 30 KM: Recovery and Preparation

At this point, the hill turned down. Part of me was enjoying allowing my body to recover and not have to fight so hard against gravity. I was able to catch my breath and look at the fantastic scenery that the road offered. This marathon is called the Southern Border Marathon because it goes along the southernmost tip of island right along the coast overlooking the ocean. It was indeed spectacularly beautiful. However, with each step downhill, my heart sank a little deeper in my chest. I knew that every stride down meant another stride back up in just a few more kilometers. I worked on noting landmarks for myself so that I would know when a flat part was coming. However, I couldn’t help but notice that the flat parts were quite a bit fewer and farther between on this side.

30 – 35 KM: A blessing in disguise

The turn around point was a short distance from the bottom of the hill. That gave me some time to brace for what I knew was coming. I was tired, but every step I took, I intentionally made myself appreciate that it was one more step that I got to take on flat ground. Eventually, however, I found myself staring up at the dreaded return trip over the hill. The first part of the hill was, to be brief, agonizing. I wasn’t aware that it was possible, but it was even longer and steeper than what I remembered coming down. I knew I looked rough when a lady on a scooter stopped and asked if she could give me a hand. But here is the funny part. I was particularly worried about this part of the race during my training because I knew that I often hit a wall around 30K. But, as I was drudgingly ascending this hill, my eyes continually scanned the road for a break from the climb. I kept saying to myself, “If I can just make it to that point, I’ll be fine… If I can just make it to that point, I can do it.” And, in that way, concentrating on one step at a time, I finally made it to the top. I didn’t have time to think about anything else and, before I knew it, I was out of the “wall danger zone”. So, while this hike was incredibly difficult for me, it helped me break up those tough kilometers in such a way that I never had to worry about a wall. I’m sure there’s a sermon illustration in there somewhere.

35 – 42 KM: The Descent

After reaching the landmark that let me know I had finished the uphill, I was as overjoyed as one can be after running 35K and still having more to go. Optimistic, I ceded to the power of gravity and began my descent. This may come as shocking information, but the kilometers sure seemed to click by a lot faster when I was going downhill rather than up. Before I knew it I had come to the final water station where I stocked up on the final refreshment for the home stretch.

42.2: The Finish Line

The final descent dumped me right into the finishing alley where I used up the last of my energy to smile for my wonderful husband and friend who awaited me. After receiving my finishing medal, I sought out a shaded area to enjoy being finished. Considering the difficulty of this race, I was pleased to learn that my time was only four minutes slower than my first marathon. I was also excited to find out that I placed 10^th overall for the women runners. I’m not exactly sure how many women were running, and though it might have been ten, I was proud nonetheless, especially since my trophy came with a cash prize this time. After a nice shower, Chris, our friend Tracy, and I collapsed into our train seats and began our journey back home to Taipei.

A Little Bit of Seoul

Though many of you have already heard, we thought that we would go ahead and make it blog-ficial. We have decided that this will be our last year living here in Taipei. But, we have also decided that we aren’t quite through with Asia just yet. In January, Chris and I accepted teaching positions in Seoul, South Korea.


Come August 3, Chris and I will proud members of the Seoul Foreign School family. It is a Christian school with extremely high academic standards and an excellent reputation. Chris will be teaching regular and AP American history and take over the head basketball coaching position. I will be teaching second and third year Spanish. While this means that we will be far away from our dear family and friends for at least two more years, we are thrilled about this opportunity that God has given us. So, we look forward to many more social and cultural blunders to fill this blog as we attempt to make ourselves at home in a new culture. Wish us luck in our venture and we look forward to teaching you all about kimchi.

Check out the slideshow of our new school if you get a chance!

East Meets West... When Fusion Works

A few weeks ago, I posted lamenting some of the failed attempts that the Taiwanese have made at American food, and perhaps I was a little harsh. There are many times that fusion cuisine does what it was intended to do and joins the best parts of two culinary traditions into one mega-experience of gastronomic bliss. Last night was one such experience. Since Chinese New Year fell on February 14 this year, Chris and I opted not to brave the crowds at one of the few restaurants that were actually open. Instead, we celebrated our Valentine’s Day last night and we were oh-so-glad that we waited.

Knowing that I love all things French, and especially French food, Chris found a French restaurant that had been recommended to us by a friend. But, this wasn’t just your regular run-of-the-mill French food. The genius behind this establishment was that they fused French cuisine with the Japanese teppanyaki tradition of cooking on your table. I thought at first that this might be a little gimmicky and I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. Admittedly, French food can lean toward the heavier side since, as we all know, everything tastes better with more butter. But here is where the genius comes in. When these French favorites were prepared fresh, on your table, with very little fuss with sauces and spices, they took on a new lightness that was, well, life-changing.

It all started with the escargot. The thing with escargot is that when it isn’t prepared well, it is nothing but a chewy chunk of rubber soaked in grease. But, when it is prepared well, it becomes a soft pillow serving as the vehicle of garlic and butter sending the one blessed enough to enjoy it into a state of ecstasy. Last night’s experience was one of the latter. They brought special dishes to our table and we watched as our chef stirred and poured and whipped up one of the freshest and best servings of escargot I have ever had. My only grievance was that I didn’t have any bread to mop up the leftover sauce. So, I did the best I could with my utensils and was able to have enough self-control not to lick the plate before the wait staff came and took away the nearly spotless dish.

The next course was fresh fish perfectly steamed on a bed of French onions. This was followed by prawns and scallops that were seared before our eyes and served with a delicate soy wasabi sauce that we were almost afraid to try for fear of adulterating the tender sweetness of the seafood. Even the salad was exquisite with a sweet yet tangy dressing that escorted the vegetables across your palate. All of this was delectable. But it was the final course that sealed the fate of this meal to be one of the best I have ever eaten.

Chris and I both ordered our steak to be cooked medium and watched as our chef expertly carved the meat and let it cook on the table. I ordered the New York strip and Chris ordered the steak that was only described as “Japanese”. Once the meat was cooked satisfactorily, our chef graciously put half of each variety of beef on each of our plates. Now, the New York strip was wonderful and if we had enjoyed only that, we would have deemed the meal wonderful and not thought anything about it. But the Japanese meat, oh the Japanese meat, was transcendent. Perfectly cooked with a melt-in-your-mouth tenderness that made you have to stop and catch your breath. We lightly dipped the New York strip in the soy wasabi sauce but wouldn’t allow anything to come near the Japanese beef except our taste buds. In a blissful daze, our plates were cleared and we were instructed that dessert and coffee awaited us in the piano bar.

At this point, we knew that nothing was going to be able to top the aforementioned pièce de résistance but dessert sure did come close. Once seated in the piano bar, we were served a molten chocolate cake with ice cream and fresh fruit. The light and fluffy chocolate cake perfectly complemented the oozing chocolate decadence within. Sealed with a rich cup of coffee, it was indeed a very happy Valentine’s Day.

Mary Poppins

So, I finally got the guts up (or maybe I just lost enough couth) to get some video evidence of one of our favorite early morning exercisers in the park. We have named him Mary Poppins because we think he looks like he belongs in the Chimney Sweep song accompanying ol' Dick Van Dyke. He comes out just about every morning doing variations of this. There was a short time at the beginning of the school year where he seemed to be teaching an exercise class to some of the elderly people who congregated in the park. Sadly, to the misfortune of everyone, this class was canceled due to lack of interest. I apologize in advance for the low quality video but, you get what you pay for people.

We also have a new addition to the morning crazies. This gentleman climbs some stairs that lead to the top of a hill on the edge of the park. He then commences to yell as loudly as he can for as long as he can. He then takes about five steps to his left where he yells again, as loudly as he can for as long as he can. He does this for the entire length of the park. Placing himself on top of the hill puts him at just enough of a distance to make the yelling more hysterical than obnoxious. Thank you, Taiwan, for always making my mornings interesting.

The Best Prom Night Ever

By: Coach

For any coach or player the most exciting part about playing a sport is the tournament. I can still remember the excitement and drama of the state final four a few years ago. Every practice was crucially important; each day would bring a tension that you could not ignore. The same is true for the teams at GCA. The big difference is that here that is pretty much ALL we have to look forward to. In our league there are no season records or standings. You can contact other schools for games but they mean absolutely nothing in regards to the end of the year results. In the States a team will play anywhere from 20 to 30 real games before any type of elimination begins. If your team does not fair well in post season play it usually is not the end of the world because you have a lot of season memories and (hopefully) wins to hang your hat on. For our basketball team this year the weekend of the tournament was a lot like a high school prom. Allow me to explain.

Prom is arguably the most anticipated event for the senior class and many hours go into the planning, purchasing, tanning and stressing. Many seniors start planning who they will go to the prom with at the start of school! The build-up for this monumental (and at the same time utterly pointless) night is overbearing for most high-schoolers. The night comes and goes and memories are made, pictures are taken, rugs are cut and many a Waffle House makes their quota. Then comes the morning after. I distinctly remember what I mumbled to myself as I rolled out of bed that Saturday after the big night. “That was it?”

Our trip this year to our “Big Dance” (pun intended) was about 6 hours. One way. In rinky dink school vans. Sound like fun? Did I mention that in the past when we make this trip we sleep on the gym floor on Friday to save money? Oh I forgot that 3 other teams would be doing the same! This would mark my 3rd time to the south of the island and believe me I was about as thrilled as Walter Matthau would be to sleep on a hard gym floor once again. Our first game was scheduled for 5:30 Friday night against a team I have never faced but our school is 1-0 all time against them so we were hoping to have history on our side. Let’s just say that we are now 1-1 and more than likely trailing badly in point differential. Following our loss I remember thinking, “This is what we have been waiting to experience? A long, ipodless ride where I can only fall asleep long enough to lose the feeling in my legs because of the cramped space. We get pounded by a local team that will enjoy the comfort of their own beds. On the other hand not only will I lose sleep over losing (which I do no matter where I sleep) I get to lose sleep in the very gym where we suffered the loss! Is this is a cruel joke?”

Right then I must have felt like the guy who gets rejected when he asks his crush to prom. Maybe it was like the poor soul who spills punch all over his tuxedo, or even worse, on his date with the bright yellow dress. That’s when something magical and unexpected happened. I was informed that my assistant coach, my players and I would NOT be staying at the gym that night. Our principal had found a hotel that was “reasonable” and so off we went to check into our new quarters. I have to admit, I was not expecting anything amazing so when we arrived I was more than shocked. This hotel was, as my wife likes to say, “A Big Deal” and as I say, “The Real Deal”. Our rooms were on the 28th floor overlooking the city lights of Kaoshiung. Our pool and Jacuzzi were on the 8th floor where we decided to have a pizza party. The principal’s husband who is also the school chancellor volunteered to take all of the boys to a night market so the coaches could have some cool down time before we went to bed. I was able to catch an NBA game on the TV right after I watched the thrilling end of “Prom Night”, which I don’t recommend, but had to share because of the irony. It is safe to say that the tournament went from being dreadful to the best I have experienced. It is amazing what a 5 star hotel will do for morale! Winning the next day also helped but at any rate it was one of my most memorable tournaments. Our school here in Taiwan does not have a prom. In my mind, it does not need one.

Defining Amerinese

This probably will not come as a shock to you, but, the Chinese food that we enjoy at local “Chinese” restaurants in the States is not exactly authentic. Not everything comes fried and drenched in sweet and sour sauce and we have yet to find a local restaurant that serves egg rolls. As far as I know, General Tsao never existed and, if he did, I am pretty sure that he didn’t trademark any chicken recipes. No one we’ve met over here has ever heard of a fortune cookie, let alone expects one at the end of each meal. I’m sorry if I have broken anyone’s hearts, but it is my job to give you the truth.

Just as Americans have our versions of cuisines from around the world, so Taiwan offers quite a sampling of their interpretations of international foods. Since we consider ourselves somewhat experts in the area, we would like to critique Taiwan’s version of American food, the hybrid Amerinese cuisine. These fusion delights range from slightly quirky to downright bizarre and never fail to entertain our sense of humor, but not always our taste buds.

Every Thursday at our school, our chef prepares a buffet of Amerinese specialties. Bearing the slight misnomer of “American food day”, Thursdays are always a highly anticipated day for the students, but met with skepticism from the teachers. When we see that fried chicken has been prepared, we sigh with relief that pretty much no one can mess up fried chicken. Hot dogs or pizza, on the other hand, have us running for the doors. Though they are made of dubious material in the States, I actually rather enjoy a good hot dog now and then. But, the Taiwanese version is a bit… different. Instead of being juicy and savory, this tubular mystery meat is rather dry and has a sweet tang to it that I find quite disagreeable. Top that with a sweet and sour version of ketchup and you can count me out.

Pizza, even at Pizza Hut or Domino’s, is always an interesting experience. We learned very quickly to order strictly from Pizza Hut as we found that there was something amiss with the cheese at Domino’s. While the big restaurants do offer traditional toppings like pepperoni, their menus are also filled with items like shrimp, scallops, and squid. Don’t get me wrong, I like seafood, but when it is perched atop sketchy mozzarella and tomato sauce, I am not a fan. The most infamous toppings that we’ve seen were served during one of our “American” days at school. The only thing that we can figure is that the chef was inspired by Hawaiian toppings when he decided that it would be a good idea to cut up the strange hot dogs and peaches for our enjoyment. Yummy.

Another one of our highlights (or should I say lowlights?) is potato salad. I’m not sure what experiences our chef has had with potato salad, but whatever they were, I’m surprised he survived them. You know how there are certain dishes that you can throw in whatever you have in the fridge and it still turns out okay? Maybe chili or a stew of some sort? Our chef seems to think that potato salad is a logical place for the week’s leftovers. We’ve had everything from the aforementioned peaches to maraschino cherries and even rainbow sprinkles. Yes, sprinkles. Trust me; I am not creative enough to make this up.

I don’t blame Taiwan for putting their own spin on some of our classic dishes. After all, we do it to their food as well and the Chinese have been cooking millennia before we ever came along. But, I still think I will enjoy dumplings over here and wait until this summer’s Stateside jaunt before putting my full faith into a hot dog.

Christmas in China

Vacations are somewhat of a mixed bag when it comes to blogging. They often supply so many stories, it is difficult to select the very best ones that will not only entertain the reader, but also summarize the week’s experiences and activities in a neat, little, blog-ready package. Wrapping up our trip to China in such a way seemed a bit daunting to me at first. How do you reduce the experience of trekking through one of the oldest civilizations in the world to a few quippy paragraphs? We toyed with a few ideas as to how to go about our overwhelming task and I decided to pick one of the more quintessential days and describe it for you. I hope that in this way, you will get an idea for a day in the life of a foreigner in China. Since our trip took place over December 25, what better day to describe than Christmas day?

In planning our trip to the Mainland, we anticipated a bit of gloom to hang over us on Christmas day since we would find ourselves sans family to celebrate the holiday. So, with the goal of preventative maintenance, we planned a tour to take us to the Great Wall on the 25^th. Our tour guide came and picked us up around 8:00 and we were off. On the way to the Wall, we made a few stops at the burial sites for the Emperors where our tour guide gave an impressively concise oration on the uprisings and downfalls of all the different dynasties and their leaders. We were also taken to a jade factory, a cloison factory, and a silk manufacturer. Of course at each stop, our guide made sure that we had ample opportunities to commemorate our trip to China in the maze-like gift shops. Chris and I decided to give in to the pressure at the jade factory where we bought a souvenir / Christmas gift for each other. Lunchtime was an interesting affair as various steaming plates were delivered to our table per a pre-determined menu. The most interesting element was the bottle of 112 proof rice wine given to us as a gift of appreciation. Didn't see that coming. So, our bellies full, we were finally off to the Wall.

It probably doesn’t surprise you to learn that there are actually several different places where one can visit the Great Wall. So, as we drove to the portion we chose, the snaking wall could be seen all over the side of the road juxtaposing the two cross-millennial highways. Our tour guide informed us that the cable car that usually runs to the top of the wall was not running since it was the slack season. Instead, we would be offered “sleds” to take us halfway to the top of our particular location. Not really knowing what to expect, we agreed to the sleds rather than hiking a few hours in the subzero temperatures. The “sleds” certainly did not disappoint. We were welcomed to the Great Wall of China by brightly colored cars on a roller coaster-style track gliding their passengers to a pre-designated point on the Wall. Reassuring ourselves that we were not, in fact, at Disney World, we exited the Great Wall roller coaster and began the rest of the ascent to the top.

You may recall from our “Cup of Tea” blog, things rarely turn out the way I plan them, especially when we are abroad. I had this wonderful picture in my head where Chris and I would don Santa hats and skip cheerfully about the Wall spreading our Christmas cheer to the tourists and Great Wall memorabilia hawkers. Unfortunately, the frigid temperatures and gusting winds sapped a bit of our Christmas spirit. We snapped a few photos, shoved our hands in our pockets and faces in our jackets and marched to the top. Wincing as we removed our warm winter hats to replace them with Santa’s seemingly meager getup, we went to take THE picture. Ideal photo attempts were thwarted when we saw that the cold temperatures had sapped the camera battery and it was dead! Not ready to give in too easily, we braved the wind gales at the top of the Wall for a few extra minutes as we warmed the battery in our gloves. Ready once again for the shot, we made our best attempt at looking warm and happy, took the picture, and ran as fast as our numb legs would carry us back to a more covered location on the Wall to shelter us from the wind. Muttering through chattering teeth about the incredible thing we were witnessing, we decided that we had witnessed as much as we could before frostbite set in. So, we set our eyes back on the roller coaster that would guide us back down the hill and bring us a few steps closer to the car and the heat inside it.

We had been planning all trip that we would experience the famed Peking Duck (a specialty of Beijing) for our Christmas dinner. After sufficiently warming up after the Great Wall excursion, we decided it was time to eat. We had a restaurant in mind and we had our hotel write the name and address in Chinese to give to a taxi driver. After finally hailing a cab (which turned out to be more of a feat than we expected), we handed him the address. Explaining something about the address, we told him (I think) to just take us as close as he could. Well, take us somewhere he did. Where the restaurant was, we will never know. We wandered around the area asking directions from various English-speaking and non-English-speaking strangers for about 45 minutes. Thoroughly disheartened from hunger and cold, we finally stumbled upon a restaurant boasting the Beijing specialty. Though it wasn’t the restaurant we had planned, it was there and they had duck, so we didn’t care. After being led to a table and pointing to duck on the menu, we were informed that it takes 44 (not 45) minutes to prepare the duck, were we willing to wait? We figured that we had gone through enough to get there, what were 44 more minutes? So, wait we did. And I am to inform you that Peking duck is most definitely worth the wait. The chef came out with the duck on a board and proceeded to expertly carve the duck, shaving off bits of roasted skin along the way. Our waiter demonstrated the best way to wrap the slivers of duck with the right proportions of duck sauce, garlic, and vegetables in paper thin pancakes. The piece de resistance, however, was when the waiter instructed us to dip the skin into sugar and then into blueberry sauce. Fatty skin and sugar, what’s not to like?

Rolling out of the restaurant, we hailed a taxi and were taken directly back to the hotel, something that we definitely didn’t take for granted. We decided that it was a very merry Christmas indeed and we looked forward to the rest that Beijing was to offer us.