Why I run

In China, running is not easy. Running on the streets can best be described as a contact sport. If the smog doesn’t kill you the random scooters and 1982 Pinto's will. Exercise and China don't seem to mix and it is pretty obvious that the mere act of putting on gym sneakers and a sweatband makes you a world-class elitist or maybe an elite class-ist. People here are worried about making enough money to feed themselves, not whether they have perfect abs. The food sucks, the air sucks and the haircuts suck, if I lived here I wouldn't try to burn off fat, I'd be indulging in it. Drinking it by the gallon out of large vats.

But I don't live in China, I just come to enjoy the views and I have to worry about burning the vats of fried cat liver I've eaten, so I go down to the basement where the Health Spa is located. It has been the same story every day.

I wake up in a jet-lagged misery at 5:30AM, brush my teeth with sprite as I’m afraid to drink the water. Get dressed and by 6am I’m on my way. I take the elevator to the basement floor where I’m met by a dark hallway. I walk into a darkness feeling my way to a light switch. I throw the switch and lights beam down on a full gym and 25 meter pool. I turn on the machines and TV. I can't find the AC switch and the pool/basement/china combination makes the place feel like a god damned sauna.
There is no water fountain (wouldn't drink it anyway), no towels and no inspiration.

So there I go, CNN blasting while I try to burn through 5 miles in a room which feels like a Dutch oven.

I sweat out Duck Feet, Pig Snout, Stinky Tofu and whatever else I haven't diarrhea-d out throughout the night. My fat thighs rub together, my nipples hurt and my Favre-beard itches

Finally I hit 8 kilometers. (I hope this is 5 miles), sweat pours off me like a faucet and while I have been there for 45 minutes later, not one person has so much peeked into the room.
This exact routine has gone on for 5 days and counting.

But the marathon is less than 2 months away and I gotta break 4 hours.

I turn off the treadmill and TV and turn down the lights and realize I'm just a glorified Bally's janitor.