The Sound of Crickets

The Sound of the Crickets

Sports Day is a big event at Jinhua No 1 High School, so much so that the Day is actually an event which stretches over a three day period.  The students have been in active training since early September when they jog past my apartment window at 6 o’clock in the morning in military precision before I have even had my first cup of President’s Choice coffee.  They catch me at a disadvantage even though I hold the high ground. 

In the spirit of camaraderie, brotherhood, solidarity and for the greater good I vow that (one day)I will enter into intensive training and prepare myself for the staff event at sports day.  It is incumbent upon me to bring honour to my country and show these little morning joggers a thing or two about running.  To my horror I discover that some of these students are near world class runners and can do the 100 m in under 12 seconds. I am relieved to know I will be running against only Chinese staff who live on nothing but rice and vegetables and have short legs.  

I cleverly begin my fitness regime after hours when the students are locked into their dorms and I have free and open access to the track and walkways where I can leisurely walk, go by the canteen, pick up an ice cream cone and work out.  I do this for three nights before the big race and am fairly confident of my level of preparedness. As I know I am fated to set a record of sorts on the appointed day.

When Harriet, our office secretary, placed the sign-up list for the race in the staffroom it remained ominously blank for several days.  No one was willing to pick up the gauntlet. Terence, a former high school football player was first to sign and so I quickly signed and encouraged the others to as well.  We had five runners.  The Chinese, as always, had us out numbered.  Terence planned to finish last.  I devised plans of intimidating our rivals through a series of false starts and screaming, “I float like a butterfly, I sting like a bee.”  

On the day of the race the stands were full.  I had on my Canada t-shirt (made in China) my Nikes (made in China) and my nylon super light running shorts (made in China).  Pius was running in bare feet.  He is from Nigeria and he says that’s how he ran as a child in the villages.  Terence had his football jersey from high school on and looked imposing, Melanie had pink tights and had more of a Tinker-bell air about her, like she would fly to the finish. 

I watched the first round, batch, heat, group of runners, whatever they are called, all staff, and I have to say lightening fast would describe them, especially the one who taught Phys Ed.  He travelled at warp speed.  I took an immediate dislike to him.

Our turn came. The anticipation had been intense.  I was well hydrated and confident in my training. My shoe laces were tied with a double knot.  I bent down, placed my feet in the starting blocks and nearly lost my balance.  I calmly looked up and down my row.  I breathed deeply.  As in e-biking, I was in my moment and found my focus.  I was one with my environment.  I could hear crickets chirping on a distant mountain top.  I was ready to rip.  

The starter raised his gun and I took that moment in time to I step forward.  I walked toward the crowd, jumped up and down, raised my arms and they stood and either cheered or jeered, there is a subtle difference, but the sound is very much the same.  I got back in line.  

The starter seemed to aim the pistol at my head this time.  I looked down the pebbled track toward the distant finish-line and imagined myself there.  The gun fired, the adrenaline rushed and I was off like Jack the bear in Disney land on the fourth of July.  It was exhilarating.  I was in the lead.  I could hear the deafening sound of the crowds, there were no crickets.  My mind and body functioned as a well oiled machine until the very moment, despite my training, the ice cream, my walks, when my legs turned to cement.  By sheer will power I forced my legs to keep moving.  Lift damn you.  Lift.  Move.  Move. My body was betraying my iron will.  I crossed the finish line mere strides ahead of barefoot Pius and meters behind every single Chinese teacher.

My heart was racing, but I shook each runners hand.  I checked my time and surely the Gods were with me as I had indeed set a record as the first “over 60’s western administrator” to do the 100 m dash in just over 20 seconds.  I turned my face to the sun.    I basked in the glory. I smiled at the adoring crowds and vomited.