Preface
Back home for the wedding, and somehow squeezing in a marathon
Xiangyang, Hubei
After five years and nine months, I finally made it back to China.
This trip actually had a proper mission: Siqi and I were doing a wedding ceremony in front of our families. During the pandemic years, they could not come to the U.S., so we finally got to make that part right.
The wedding back in my hometown over the October holiday went pretty well. It was not insanely fancy, but it was loud, warm, and full of people.
My Northeast relatives showed up exactly as expected and basically turned the whole thing into a giant social event. Siqi's side brought a solid crew too. No shortage of people, no shortage of energy.
The only problem was: it was exhausting. My parents were running around nonstop, I got scheduled down to the minute, and by the end I had somehow gained five-plus kilos. Classic wedding-overwork weight gain.
After the wedding, Siqi flew back to the U.S. for work, while I still had a bit more time in China.
I officially joined Midea's U.S. R&D center late last year, so this trip also counted as a work trip. Then my old habit kicked in again: if I have a weekend free, I start wondering if there is a marathon nearby. Bad at resisting it, very good at wanting it.
Hubei also happens to be where I first really got into running, so I had been wanting to go back to Wuhan for a while.
The Wuhan Marathon did not line up with my schedule, but the Xiangyang Marathon, which has a pretty good reputation, landed right in my window.
And since races in China usually use lotteries now, getting in felt like a lucky break.
So the plan more or less wrote itself: pass through Wuhan, head straight to Xiangyang, and make it my first race back in China.
Two birds, one trip. The timing, the place, the mood all lined up.
Passing through Wuhan: biking around East Lake and back to Luojia Mountain
Xiangyang, Hubei
On Friday night, October 17, I took the high-speed train from Shunde to Wuhan.
Every time I ride China's high-speed rail, I have the same reaction: this system is ridiculous in the best way. Shunde to Wuhan in a little over three hours. That's just fast.
I later looked it up and saw that China accounts for roughly 80 percent of the world's high-speed rail mileage. That number sounds made up, but it is real, and it is wild.
I booked a hotel next to Wuhan University. If I was already staying at the gate, there was no way I was not going to walk around a little.
But this time, WHU felt a bit different.
There has been a lot of bad news around the school lately, and now with the closed-campus policy, outside visitors basically cannot get in on weekdays.
My old impression of WHU was that it was open, generous, and relaxed. The kind of campus where you could just wander in, sit somewhere, and nobody would bother you.
This time I stood at the gate and saw a big sign saying, 'The university is not a tourist attraction. Outsiders are not allowed in.' It felt strange.
It felt like WHU had lost something. That old freedom of casually walking into Guiyuan or up Luojia Mountain is pretty much gone now.
I could not help wondering what former president Liu Daoyu would think if he saw the school today.
That said, it was not completely impossible. After asking around, I found out the campus is open for visits on weekends.
A small win, at least. I took a night photo at the gate.
Saturday was rainy all day. Wuhan suddenly got cold, and the wind had a bite to it. I ignored all that and decided to ride around East Lake first, then try WHU again.
I scanned a shared bike at the gate and rode toward East Lake in the drizzle.
I had not been back in six years, and the area had changed a lot. There was construction all around the lake, and for a while I could not even find the greenway entrance. A security guard finally pointed me in the right direction, and I got back onto the East Lake Greenway.
There were not many people out in the rain. Mostly it was me and a few sanitation workers.
The trees, the lake, the leaves by the path, everything was wet and quiet. As I rode, I kept thinking how good it must have been to study at WHU back then. You step out of the dorm and East Lake is right there. Pretty amazing training ground.
Halfway through the ride, I even had the mood to fly the drone and take a few photos, just to keep some record of the day.
The full loop was close to twenty kilometers. I sped up in the second half and still needed almost two hours to finish. By the end I was soaked.
When I reached the east side of WHU, I figured I would try to go in. The campus was open on weekends, but only through designated gates. I had no idea which one, so I went to the gate near my old dorm and told the security guy I wanted to visit.
He asked if I had a reservation. Of course I did not. I said I was an alumnus. He hesitated for a second, then let me in.
Inside, I noticed the campus had a ton of shared e-scooters now, but only current students could use them. I wanted to go see my old dorm, but now everything is face-scan access. No chance.
So I just wandered around and made my way to Cherry Blossom Avenue and the old dorm buildings.
There were plenty of alumni taking photos in front of the old library. One older alum and I helped each other take a few shots. He also told me alumni can apply for an alumni card, which makes getting back onto campus much easier.
Later I went to Meicao and then toward the administration building. The whole way, it was mostly alumni visiting the campus, walking and chatting. Whatever WHU has become over the years, it is still the kind of place that makes people nostalgic.
Past that was Luojia Mountain. I walked up the road and suddenly remembered how often I trained there. One loop is about three kilometers. There were not many people on the hill, so I filmed a little running footage, just for the vibe.
Time was tight, though. My train had been delayed, I had already changed my ticket, and I could not hang around too long.
After coming down the hill, I wanted to see the old archway, but somehow got lost again. I asked a student, found the gate, and had a passerby take a few photos. Mission accomplished.
After leaving campus, I went to Hankou Station and had a bowl of Cailinji hot dry noodles with all the toppings, plus a piece of doupi. The taste was still familiar. The calories were probably criminal. After that, I was ready to head to Xiangyang.
★★
Arriving in Xiangyang: packet pickup and the old city
Xiangyang, Hubei
The high-speed train from Wuhan to Xiangyang takes about an hour. As soon as I got off, I saw volunteers in the station holding signs for race shuttles.
The shuttle took us straight to Zhuge Liang Square. It is a big square, and right in the middle is that very hard-to-miss statue of Zhuge Liang, feather fan in hand, serious presence.
The marathon expo was set up there too, rows of tents and a lot of people.
The street-level energy of Chinese marathons really feels different from races in the U.S. The booths are packed close together, everyone is excited, people are picking up kits, taking photos, buying stuff. It has this Chinese New Year travel-rush kind of buzz.
The thing that stuck with me most was the official Xiangyang beef noodle stand. Steam everywhere, rich broth, and in that weather, a bowl of noodles hit unbelievably hard.
But honestly, Xiangyang was cold. I got back to the hotel and immediately opened Meituan to buy two jackets: one cheap layer to toss before the race, and one to actually wear for the next few days.
That evening I took a taxi to Xiangyang Old City.
The old city has a long history. The walls and gates are huge, and historically this place was a serious military stronghold. Now it has been developed into an old-city commercial area, with plenty of shops, tourists, food, drinks, and entertainment all packed together.
I randomly picked a beef noodle shop. It was pretty busy. The one across the street had basically nobody.
After dinner, I walked along the old city wall toward the Han River. The night view was beautiful. The buildings across the river lit up the water in different colors. People were releasing sky lanterns by the river, and a few had gotten stuck in the trees.
The city wall itself is thick, almost like the Xi'an city wall. There are memorial pavilions up on it, and down below there were aunties doing square dancing. That mix of modern everyday life and old-city atmosphere was honestly fun.
Later I went down the other side of the wall, trying to avoid the main tourist street. I accidentally wandered into a side street where there was a Guan Yu dance group performing. Pretty funny, and a little like a mini version of Lijiang Old Town.
Outside the old city were small restaurants, glowing city towers, and local grandpas and grandmas out for an evening walk. I actually liked that part more. It had a more grounded, local kind of life to it.
It was getting late, so I took a taxi back to the hotel. The next day was supposed to be a fun run, but 42 kilometers is still 42 kilometers. I could not be too reckless.
★★★
Race day in Xiangyang: a Three Kingdoms city and a wuxia-flavored course
Xiangyang, Hubei
Race day finally came. It was my first time in Xiangyang, and everything felt fresh. Getting to know a city by running a marathon through it has always been one of my favorite ways to travel.
Like a lot of people, my image of Xiangyang comes from the Three Kingdoms, or from the stories of Guo Jing and Huang Rong defending the city. The place carries a bit of national-history weight, and a bit of wuxia energy too.
In the morning I arrived at the start wearing a black throwaway layer. There were a lot of runners, and I was in Corral B. Right after I got in, the national anthem started, and everyone sang together. The atmosphere was warm.
The race color was red, and the whole start area was a sea of red. I, meanwhile, was wearing a bright yellow Arsenal jersey, so I stood out badly. I felt like a spoonful of scrambled eggs dropped into a pot of tomatoes.
After the start, we ran south from Xiangyang Square along Changhong Road. Not long after, I spotted the WHU Running Club shirt in the crowd. It felt weirdly familiar, so I went over to say hi. Nice little coincidence.
Before five kilometers, we were already on Changhong Bridge. National flags lined both sides, faint mountains sat in the distance, and the Han River ran beside us. On the bridge, a few actors in Three Kingdoms costumes were waving fans and making heart signs at runners. Drones were buzzing around too.
After the bridge, we entered the Laolongdi scenic area. That riverside stretch felt great: trees, water, embankment road, all quiet and small-city in the best way.
What impressed me most were the wuxia characters standing beside every kilometer marker. They were all fully committed, holding signs, striking poses, yelling encouragement, each one more in character than the last.
Around 12K, we ran right alongside the old city wall. Red flags were planted all along the top, and below, a row of swordswoman-style performers were giving runners high fives. The energy was excellent.
Then we moved into the old streets: stone roads, red lanterns, shops on both sides cheering people on, and photographers everywhere firing away.
From Guzhi Street and Jingzhou Street through East Street and near Yangchun Gate Park, the kids on the roadside were especially excited. Around 13K, there was this chubby little kid holding out his hand for a high five, and for a second I felt like I was looking at my younger self.
The whole course was lively. No exaggeration, the aid stations here were better than most of what I have had in the U.S. Fruit, snacks, tons of them. The volunteers were unbelievably enthusiastic. There were lion dances, drum teams, and someone cheering at basically every kilometer marker.
Around 20K we reached Tangcheng. This is where Legend of the Demon Cat was filmed, and the palace-style buildings are massive. At the gate there were golden-armored riders; inside, drums and ceremonial guards. The whole setup was dramatic in the best way, like you had run straight back into the Tang dynasty. It was also the half-marathon finish, so the crowd was even bigger and louder.
Coming out of Tangcheng's east gate, the view opened up immediately. Ahead was Binjiang Avenue, with green space on the left and the Han River on the right. After running through palaces and towers, suddenly being on a wide riverside road felt like the rhythm had switched. It was refreshing.
We followed the course toward Fengchu Bridge, turned left underneath it, then turned right to go up onto the bridge. Fengchu Bridge is blue and easy to recognize, tall enough that when the wind hits, it almost feels like it lifts you. The Han River passed underneath again. This was the second river crossing of the day, and the view was wide open.
After the bridge came People's Square, then Daqing West Road. Every city in China seems to have a People's Road, but Daqing Road was a first for me. This area was packed, especially near the train station and Baima Square. The cheering here was probably the loudest of the whole race.
Right around there, I quietly checked my watch and realized I had somehow caught the four-hour pacer. That surprised me. Honestly, I had put on some weight over the past half year, had not trained in any serious way, and the first half had been crowded. Still being on sub-4 pace felt a little unreal.
In the last ten kilometers, I took some energy gel and managed to smear it all over myself. My jersey looked like an Arsenal battle-damage edition.
Near the finish, I checked the time again and realized I could still push. I followed the crowd, kicked toward the line, crossed the timing mat, and my watch showed 3:57. In my head I was like, okay, that is actually pretty damn good.
The finish volunteers were super warm, and a lot of them seemed to be local students.
The medal was interesting too: a big gold base with Xiangyang elements on it, red patterns, the old city, musical instruments, and a green horse in the middle. It had that old-style Chinese feel and was honestly pretty nicely made.
Six years later, I finally finished another marathon in China. And not just any race, but one with culture, everyday life, and a little jianghu flavor. Pretty great.
Postscript
First marathon back in China. Felt good.
Xiangyang, Hubei
After the race, I packed up my stuff and got ready to head to the train station for the trip back to Shunde.
Before getting on the train, I chatted with my Didi driver. She said she had taken her kid to watch the race, and that running is such a good thing, but kids in China are so tired now that they have less and less time to move.
That hit me a little. Just a few days earlier, marathons had been labeled as an 'extreme sport,' and races in a lot of cities were suddenly paused. In the future, it might get harder and harder to even get a bib.
But I still believe this: no matter how policies shift, China is never short of people who love sports, and never short of people who want to put on a good race. People like Xiaotaiyang, and the teachers and organizers who care.
The train station was crowded. I immediately spotted a few people like me, carrying big bags and wearing that post-race tiredness all over them. I asked one guy nearby if he had also run the marathon. He said he had just finished a triathlon.
During the transfer in Zhengzhou, I had a plate of Xinjiang-style hand-pulled noodles. It was good. After that, it was an overnight sleeper train rocking all the way back to Shunde, and the next morning I went straight to work like nothing had happened.
Looking back, the route was simple and absurd: Shunde to Wuhan, Wuhan to Xiangyang, 42 kilometers on foot, then a long chain of transfers back to Guangdong.
I realized I really do like that feeling of being on the move. And getting to run a marathon back in China made it feel a little like a dream coming true.
Words | Arsenan
Photos | Arsenan
Design | Arsenan