Running commentary

I have a long-held belief that distance runners are friendly and approachable. It has been my experience that in most cases logging mile after mile, year after year, takes the rough edges off a person.  Of course, this could also be complete and utter bias on my part, since I am a runner. However, I had an experience last night here in South Korea that I believe supports my thesis.

I went for a run after dark, which is not typical of me, but since my daughter Claire's death in November I have found that I often get very restless in the evening. I need time to think and be alone. It's safe enough here. The crime rate is virtually non-existent, the streets are well-lighted for the most part, and sidewalks and bike paths abound.

These night-time forays are often random wanderings, but at other times I set out to get to know the area better. Daejeon is a city of 1.5 million, but I live in what people often consider the suburbs because the building density is a bit lighter than the rest of the city.

I have found that in general, Koreans are quite mindful of fitness, so it is not unusual to see people out walking at all hours, while others make use of 24-hour gyms or other indoor facilities. Our apartment complex has a full weight room in the basement and public outdoor exercise equipment can be found at every park and along all trails and bike paths. To be honest, I seldom see Koreans of any age who are overweight.

But you don't see too many people running at night, so the chubby American guy does sort of stand out, plodding along the sidewalk in the dark.

Another factor is that Caucasians in our area are limited to staff at our school and a few other "Westerners" who work as English tutors, so I can go days without seeing any non-Koreans once I leave our campus. Overall, my foreign-ness and lack of Korean language skills result in very little spontaneous interaction between the local population and me.  While many young people and adults are quite familiar with English, they are not comfortable using the language, especially with strangers. This can be quite isolating. I really need to learn more Korean.

So, as I ran along I did not expect to experience any social interaction at all - no smiles, no nods, no conversations while waiting for a traffic light to change - regardless of my attempts to engage.

But then, something quite marvelous happened. As I waited to cross a busy intersection, a young man in his twenties in a wheel chair began speaking to me in Korean. At first I thought he was angry about something, but then I realized he was anxious about getting across the broad street safely before the light changed. (Pedestrians do not enjoy the same sort of "rights" in Korea as they do in the U.S. You can't assume a car will slow even slightly. You definitely have to be on the alert.)

Once I understood he wanted me to help push him across the street he was all smiles and doing his very best to communicate with me. When we got to the other side, I moved to let him go on his way, but he wanted me to continue, perhaps because the sidewalk, like many in our city, is made of cobblestones rather than smooth concrete, making it quite unfriendly for wheelchairs, walkers, or crutches.

Eventually, we arrived at another street corner where an older woman had a small food cart set up, where she was cooking cinnamon pancakes and fish dumplings. My new friend, Cho, spoke with excitement as the woman quickly served me a pancake. As I took the first bite, Cho put a stick of dumplings in my other hand and showed me how to dip in a dish of sauce on the counter. I couldn't chew fast enough to satisfy his enthusiasm. Soon all three of us were laughing even though we could not match many words together between the two languages.

I truly needed to get back home because it was getting late. I offered to pay for the food only to be turned down. I promised to do my best to come back another time and fully intend to do so.

I smiled as a ran back toward my apartment and it struck me that it was probably because I was in running gear that Cho felt comfortable to ask me to push him in his wheelchair. Had I been in a shirt and tie, I think he would have asked someone else. Perhaps he just thought that a 50-something American jogging along the sidewalk was novel and safe enough to bring to his mother at her food stand. 

Whatever the reason, it was a memory-maker for sure. Now I am looking forward to the next night run.