Trail Running on a Hot Day

The top of the hill was just about 15 meters or so above my head, and I could hear some indistinct voices coming down through the thicket up there. How strange that there were so many voices. All the other runners were either way behind me or way ahead of me. Those two runner who had just passed now resting and talking up there was conceivable. But the multiple voices I heard could be a group of people partying.

Am I having an illusion? I said to myself. Why is the song Stairway to Heaven playing in my mind all along? Yes, I'm buying my stairway to heaven. It was damn hot. The dry and stony trail I had just climbed through was unsheltered by any plant. Yet Robert Plant's voice was stuck with me. The soil was exposed to the sun, which now aiming at me freed from underneath the earth the heated air that hit me like steam coming out of a wok on the stove. But I could barely sweat. Neither could I barely move my heavy legs. I looked at my watch. It was 10:45. Had been 3 hours since I started, but the latest uphill 1km cost me 27 minutes. I checked the GPS. Still got 2km to go. But once I made it to the top, the rest would be downhill. Yes I need to hurry up. I thought to myself. My wife was waiting in her car at the foot and was going to take me back to the hotel for the check-out before noon.

The voices were clearer and clearer as I approached the hill-top. Wriggling past the last corner around the slab stairs, I finally saw the talking human beings. There were 8 of them, either standing or sitting in the shadow. One of them had lit up a cigarette and was trying to take some consolation from it. But there was a silent one lying still on the ground and was stripped off his shirt. His topless white upper body was leaning against a pair of legs that belonged to a 40-ish woman, who was shaking a piece of towel to create some coolness over him.

"Running on a hot day like this," the woman said, "everybody is a hero."
"Are his heart rates going down?" another man next to her said. He was about the woman's age, but shorter than her. "His HR watch is still beeping. He needs to be cooler."

The man struck down by the sun was about 25 years old or younger. His chest was heaving slowly as sweat trickled down and converged at his belly where most of his fat was accumulated. His eyes were closed, nostrils blowing out some light snores as if he was in deep and un-wakable sleep.

"Is he with you guys?" I asked and stopped in front of them, who had totally blocked the path.
"No. I barely know him." The woman said and turned her head to the back. "He is with her, the Hungarian Beauty. She says they come from Shanghai."
I looked over and saw a skinny blonde sitting on a rock in the shadow. She was sipping water from a bottle and wiping sweat off her forehead.
"You are from Shanghai, too?" A 30-ish man next to me asked loudly. "Whereabout in Shanghai?"
"Luwan District". The Hungarian girl answered in perfect mandarin Chinese. "I often run in the parks there."
"No wonder your face looks familiar." The man said, "I often do exercises in the Luwan Gym. Did you also run the Chaigu Ultra Trail earlier this year?"
"Yes, but I didn't finish. The weather was too awful."
"Hey, I was there, too. I must have seen you there, that's why..."
I decided to turn a deaf ear to their conversation and walked over to pull down the fainted man's calf sleeves. Although his legs were huge like two felled down trees, his muscles were soft, and the sleeves were soaked in sweat, it was not difficult for me to peel the fabric off his skin.
"That'll make him cooler." I said.
"Why don't you take off his shoes, too?" The short man said with an urging voice.
I hesitated for a while. I didn't like to take orders but nevertheless, I bent over to do as the man said. Shit, the shoe

strings were not tied but were fitted to a button and were wrapped in such a way that I tried but failed.
"Don't know how to unhook the strings." I said to the man.
The man looked at me and said nothing.
"Don't bother." The woman said, "He'd have to put on the shoes again. Leave them on. When he wakes up, he can just get going without the trouble."
"Can I walk through? I need to catch the time." I said.
"Oh, sure." The woman slided and made some room for me to pass.

When I was racing down the hill with the last bit of strength, Robert Plant was on again, "as we wind on down the road/ our shadows taller than our soul." You are wrong, man, there are no shadows at all. The sun is taller than my soul. And I kept asking myself, Are you really up for the 50km race 4 months from now in the same place? "It makes wonder, oooh, it makes wonder." Robert Plant echoed. But the song instantly disappeared when I finally reached the finishing line, an aid station set in a hotel's yard at the foot of the hill, and saw the watermelons, cherry tomatoes, milk shakes displayed there. As I was
gulping down the fruit and drink, a siren whistled by outside the hotel.
"Is it a fire engine?" one of the assistance girls by the desk asked, "It's so hot, could be a forest fire or something."
"I think it's an ambulance." the other girl answered, "a man's got a sunstroke on the hill, haven't you heard?"