Grand Rapids, Michigan — On August 25, 2024, the Millennium Meadows Marathon became State 21 of Run50: six loops through Millennium Park, a Grand River sunrise, late-summer heat, and a 4:44 finish that turned into a strange little lucky sign.
Preface | Toward Grand Rapids, Starting with Parkrun
At the end of August, most of the United States was still roasting under the sun, with heat waves rolling through.
Since there is an old saying about training through the hottest days of summer, Siqi and I figured we might as well head north for a run.
When we looked at the map, Michigan felt like a good choice. In Chinese runner slang, I like to joke that it sounds like "Michigan cold," which already felt refreshing.
We set out from Kentucky, crossed the endless cornfields of Indiana, drove for several hours, and finally reached Grand Rapids, the second-largest city in Michigan.
The city is known as Beer City, with a broad river running through downtown, and the whole place felt more relaxed than I expected.
This race had a special setup: a marathon on the meadow paths of Millennium Park, six loops adding up to the full 42.195 kilometers.
Before race day, we also joined the local Parkrun.
Parkrun is a free community run held every Saturday morning. It is always 5K, costs nothing, and is organized entirely by volunteers.
Since starting in 2004, it has grown to more than two thousand locations across over twenty countries.
For us, this was the third city where we had checked off a Parkrun.
Running with a group of strangers, hearing everyone call out "Good job" to one another, made the trip feel simple, warm, and a little more connected to the place.
State 21: Michigan | A Green Run in the Great Lakes State
Michigan gets its identity from the Great Lakes. Surrounded by water on three sides, it is known as the Great Lakes State.
The state looks like a hand reaching into the lakes, with the Mackinac Bridge linking the Lower and Upper Peninsulas.
It has an abundance of natural scenery and a long shoreline. In summer people boat and visit the beaches; in winter they ski and watch the lakes turn icy.
As for the cities:
- Detroit is the largest city, famous for the auto industry and known as Motor City. It was once the heart of American manufacturing, and later went through a difficult decline as factories closed.
- Ann Arbor is a college town and home to the University of Michigan, whose campus is well known.
- Grand Rapids is the second-largest city. It grew around furniture manufacturing and is now also known as Beer City. It was our destination this time.
Michigan has an important place in American history, with one side rooted in industry and labor culture and another shaped by lakes and natural landscapes.
For us, this trip was a chance to experience that land directly.
Chapter 1 | Arriving in Grand Rapids: A Small Incident and First Impressions
On the way into downtown Grand Rapids, we ran into a small mishap.
At the highway exit, a car on the right suddenly cut in. I instinctively steered away, and we ended up scraping a pickup truck towing a boat on the left. Siqi's CR-V lost its left mirror and picked up scratches on the door. The most annoying part: the car that caused all this disappeared immediately.
If I had not dodged, that car probably would have hit us and carried the blame. But in that instant, instinct took over, I gave way, and we became the ones paying for it. Fortunately, it was minor: the other vehicle was fine and ours could still drive. Next time, stay calm, honk if needed, and do not make a sudden lane change just to be polite.
It was not a major accident, but it still affected our mood. We went downtown and found an Indian restaurant to calm ourselves down over food.
Downtown Grand Rapids was clean. A wide river runs through it, with high-rises and older buildings on both banks. A blue steel bridge called the Blue Bridge crosses the river and serves as a local landmark.
On the walk to packet pickup, we passed a university campus with many national flags out front, including China's flag. It was the DeVos campus of Grand Valley State University. The red-brick buildings and clock tower gave it a strong presence.
A little farther on, we saw a bright blue wave mural shining in the sun.
Packet pickup was inside a bar. Bibs and shirts were laid out on tables, and the atmosphere was very casual. After picking up our gear, we returned to the Airbnb.
The house we booked was spacious. I stayed in a garden-level room with a window facing outside. A small lake sat right in front of the house, completely still, with a basketball court in the yard and the owner's boat by the water. Quiet, relaxed, and just right before race day.
Chapter 2 | Race Morning: Starting in the Dark
On race day, we reached Millennium Park before dawn.
The park sits west of Grand Rapids and covers a large area, with lakes, woods, and many paths. Locals come here to run and ride bikes. The greenway connects to the Grand River and stretches onward, making it well suited for long-distance running, so the Meadows Marathon places its course here.
It was still dark and quiet everywhere except the start area, where bright lights were on. Runners gathered together and the atmosphere quickly became lively.
This time I ran the full marathon while Siqi ran the half. We started separately, and the full marathon went off first.
This was the first outing for my new Insta360 Ace Pro. It felt heavier in my hand than the DJI Action 4 and started up a little slower, but I had heard the image quality had more texture, so I wanted to try it.
When the start sounded, everyone rushed into the darkness. At first I could barely see anything and could only follow the footsteps ahead. After a few miles, a little light finally began to show on the horizon.
A faint orange glow appeared over the river first, flickering across the water. By Mile 5, I could finally make out the shapes along the road: tree shadows, grass, and the damp air. The race probably starts this early to avoid the midday heat. After all, even "cold Michigan" is still hot in late August.
Around Mile 7, the real sunrise arrived. Orange-red light rose from the river and made the water shine like gold.
Looking through the reeds and grass by the river, the whole sky felt warm.
Chapter 3 | Six Loops of Samsara and the Trial by True Fire
As the day brightened, more spectators appeared along the course. Some brought small stools and sat under the shade, casually cheering runners on. Around Mile 10, I ran into Siqi.
She was running the half and had started later than I did. We met briefly on the course and shouted a few words of encouragement to each other.
At Mile 11, I returned to the river. The sun had fully risen, and the light turned the water golden.
There were still spectators up ahead, cheering loudly. The scenery on both sides was simple: yellowing reeds on one side, deep green woods on the other. The colors layered together in a very comfortable way.
By then, the sun felt like a giant fireball hanging right in front of us: blinding, oven-hot, and very committed to its role. As I ran, I saw an older gentleman in a 50 States Marathon Club shirt. He had already completed marathons in all fifty states.
I looked down at my shadow on the ground and kept going. The course remained a rhythm of small park bridges, woods, and riverfront, alternating between shade and full exposure. By Mile 20, the river glittered in the sun and quite a few runners had simply taken off their shirts.
Running this six-loop marathon made me think of the Buddhist idea of the six realms of rebirth. The realms are heaven, human, asura, animal, hungry ghost, and hell, a cycle of life and death where every kind of sweetness and suffering is tasted. These six loops felt like that, wearing you down again and again:
The shady moments were like heaven, easy and free. The moments when spectators clapped felt like the human realm, warm and connected. Fighting the blazing sun felt like hell, unbearably roasted. When hunger and thirst hit, a gel at the aid station became the lifesaving nectar of the hungry ghost realm.
Each loop felt like passing through one realm, and only after the sixth could I finally break out.
All of this made me think of the True Fire from Journey to the West. In the legend, Sun Wukong is burned inside Taishang Laojun's alchemy furnace for forty-nine days. He survives it and gains his fiery golden eyes. That fire is no ordinary flame; it is the kind of mythic heat that burns through the world.
At that moment, I felt as if I had been thrown into the furnace myself. The six-loop course was the chamber, the sun overhead was the True Fire, and by the end I felt roasted all the way through. Strangely, even while exhausted, I also felt a little stronger.
Finally, the last loop was coming to an end. I could turn out of the cycle and take the road toward the finish. That stretch was still fully exposed, but with the goal ahead, I no longer felt restless.
Near the finish, small yellow flowers bloomed along both sides of the course, bright in the sun. A few older women in the crowd waved warmly, welcoming us runners in.
The moment I crossed the finish, one sentence was in my head: I had finally escaped the six-loop cycle and walked out of the True Fire.
Chapter 4 | After the Fire, Born Toward Four
I raised both hands and crossed the finish line in the most triumphant pose I could manage.
A child handed me the medal. The design showed a bridge from a first-person perspective, clever and genuinely cool-looking, even if the race itself had been anything but cool.
After the race, Siqi and I took a medal selfie, and then I went to stretch my legs.
Near the park entrance stood a "Welcome Meadows Marathon" sign. It immediately made the event feel polished. Even at a small scale, it had a sense of occasion.
On the way out, I saw several statues: an older gentleman wearing glasses, children beside him, books and a ball in hand, as if telling a story about passing down knowledge and sport. I naturally went over for a photo, as if I had become part of that story too.
My final time was 4 hours and 44 minutes. Six loops under the sun felt like a pot of True Fire that had cooked me into one number: 444. Somehow that made it more interesting. Three fours might sound unlucky to some people, but I chose to read it as a lucky sign. In Chinese, four can also echo "things going smoothly," so I treated it as a small reminder to be born toward four.
Maybe from here, my luck would begin to turn.
Postscript | After the Worst Comes the Turn
Honestly, the Michigan trip did not exactly begin with good luck. Right after arriving in Grand Rapids, we scraped the car at the highway exit and wrecked the CR-V's mirror. On the course, six loops felt like traveling through the six realms, while the sun overhead roasted me like True Fire. Then I crossed the finish in 4:44, a number that looked unlucky from every angle.
But I felt it might be another kind of reminder. The car incident taught me to stay calm, the six loops tempered me, and 444 seemed to tell me that things could still go well. Luck rises and falls, and running is the same: endure it, and walk out of it.
On the drive home, Siqi and I used a roll of white tape to tie the broken mirror back in place. We drove carefully the whole way and made it safely back to Louisville. As I drove, I kept thinking: this is life. Sometimes things go wrong, but as long as you can keep the wheel steady, you can get home.
This was already my 21st Run50 state. The process was rough, but that made it memorable. I have always half-believed that luck is conserved, the way energy is conserved. Today's bad luck might just be exchanged for tomorrow's good luck.
So I chose to treat this experience as a special gift. Once you have been through the fire, it becomes easier to believe that after the worst, better days must come.
- End -
Words, photos, and layout by Arsenan