This is my second time running the Shenzhen Marathon.

The reason I decided to run the Shenzhen Marathon is that I didn't get a spot in the Guangzhou Marathon, so I had to settle for the next best option.

The reason I wanted to run the Guangzhou Marathon is that back when I was teaching in Tibet, the best student in my class, Solang Yangjin, got into a mainland class in Foshan, and I promised to visit her every year.

The child is now in her third year of middle school and will graduate next year. I don't know which high school she will apply to. If I don't visit her this year, she might not be studying in Guangzhou next year.

On Saturday morning, I flew to Guangzhou, took an hour and a half subway ride, had a meal with the child and her current headteacher, and then rushed to Shenzhen to meet up with Shen Wuzei.

Shen Wuzei originally didn't want to run the Shenzhen Marathon either, but when he heard I was aiming for a personal best (PB) in Shenzhen, he signed up specifically to pace me.

This put a lot of pressure on me.

Throughout 2018, from injuring my foot in Xiamen at the beginning of the year, to developing plantar fasciitis during the Wuhan Marathon, and then crashing in the Hefei Marathon, my performance this year has been dismal. If I don't run well this time, I really won't have the face to meet anyone.

Shenzhen is the last chance this year, and it will determine whether my best performance of 2018 is the embarrassing 3:39 in Shijiazhuang.

I'm too embarrassed to even call myself a marathon runner.

After the debacle in Hefei, Erdan has been remotely coaching me from Shanghai, creating daily training plans and pushing me to complete them.

This setup is somewhat like a correspondence course for senior citizens. Yes, I'm the old student waiting for the teacher to send daily materials.

However, Erdan's plan is for the Wuxi/Chongqing Marathon in March next year, so it doesn't help much for Shenzhen.

So the task of helping me achieve a PB fell on Shen Wuzei.

After meeting up, Shen Wuzei and I discussed race strategies extensively. Even after that, he stayed up late discussing with his own coach, Zheng Zhongji, on how to pace me.

Zheng Zhongji said over the phone, "Don't overthink it. You guys are definitely going to crash tomorrow."

Shen Wuzei was particularly indignant and wanted me to make a statement to Zheng Zhongji, something like "Stay true to the mission and strive to be the best," to motivate me through shame.

I stammered into the phone for a bit, then turned to Shen Wuzei and said, "He does have a point..."

If he had my phone, he would probably have smashed it over my head.

I touched my bald head, still feeling a lingering fear.

A little past 7 a.m. on Sunday, we arrived at the starting point.

After a very crowded security check and navigating a very complicated route, we finally made it to the starting arch just before the starting gun went off.

The gun fired, and we were off. The race that would determine whether I was an elite or a failure had begun.

The weather in Shenzhen was much better than the forecasted sunny day. It was overcast with light rain, perfect for a PB. We weaved through the crowd, and after surviving the crowded first kilometer, we could start running at our own pace.

Shen Wuzei was exceptionally busy throughout the race, helping me with water, forcing me to take supplements, reminding me to control my pace, and even finding time to take photos of me.

The key issue was that he also had to constantly respond to greetings from fellow runners. I could totally imagine the murderous looks from those girls watching Shen Wuzei run back and forth helping me.

Shen Wuzei recorded short videos of me while running.

The last time he recorded my heroic figure was at the 16-kilometer mark, when the time was just 1 hour and 16 minutes.

Then, the crash came like a tsunami, overwhelming me.

Many friends who don't run marathons have asked me, "Is it true that once you push past that limit, it gets easier?"

Actually, it's not. If you can't push past it, you just can't. There's no miracle.

Before the race, I told Shen Wuzei that if I couldn't finish 30 kilometers within 2 hours and 20 minutes, it meant I couldn't achieve a PB, and he should go ahead without me. This is called "I give up, you abandon."

As it turned out, the crash came much earlier than expected. After the half marathon, I knew I couldn't achieve a PB today. Ignoring Shen Wuzei's scolding, I shamelessly demanded to slow down and even stop to rest.

I was puzzled. How could two people from such different backgrounds, Shen Wuzei and Erdan, curse so similarly? Even their choice of words was the same...

But scolding was useless. Gasping for breath, I told Shen Wuzei, "You go ahead. I stored the room key in my bag. Go back to the hotel, ask the staff to open the door, and wait for me after you clean up..."

Seeing my state, Shen Wuzei estimated that I would finish in five hours and, fearing he would miss his flight, finally left after confirming multiple times.

Later, Shen Wuzei sent me a few photos, saying, "Old Zhao, look at how sad I was after we separated."

Yes, I looked at the photos. He indeed looked very sad... Sad that he had to pace Old Zhao in the first half instead of enjoying his own run!

Gasping for breath on the track, I took an energy gel and four salt pills and started running towards the finish line again. Not only did Shen Wuzei have to catch a flight, but I also had to catch one.

Adjusting along the way, I surprisingly regained my form at the 29-kilometer mark, cruising at a pace of under 5 minutes per kilometer, with one kilometer being the fastest of the entire race at 4:30.

Breathing steadily, heart rate at 150, I reignited my ambition. If I kept running like this, I might not achieve a PB, but surpassing the 3:39 best time of the year was still possible.

Charge!

Without any warning, cramps hit at the 36-kilometer mark.

My calves are prone to cramping, so I had applied kinesiology tape before the race. But after being soaked by sweat and rain, the tape had fallen off.

Just like in the Taiyuan Marathon, both of my calves started cramping violently. I had no choice but to stop, watching a large dent form near my knee.

I moved to the roadside, stretching and massaging my muscles desperately, trying to relieve the cramps. But it was useless; any acceleration or uphill would trigger the cramps again.

At times like this, I especially feared running into acquaintances, seeing me in such a miserable state.

But sometimes, what you fear most happens. Just when I was in agony, Shen Wuzei appeared on the opposite side of the road, leisurely running back. He shouted at me across the barriers, making me feel utterly embarrassed.

Seeing my embarrassed state, Shen Wuzei even stopped to shout, "Old Zhao, should I wait for you?"

With eyes all around me, I quickly waved him off, saying, "You go ahead, don't worry about me. Hand the tea leaves to Comrade Ke!"

Shen Wuzei had no choice but to continue running sadly.

Dragging my cramping legs, I finally reached the finish line in 3 hours and 49 minutes. Shen Wuzei called me from outside the advertising boards, asking me to pose for some photos.

Forcing a smile, I made a lousy heart gesture and, with a grim face, went to collect the finisher's bag with him.

Two rows of young, beautiful girls in uniform stood in the passage, welcoming the finishers. Without thinking, I bypassed them from behind, and Shen Wuzei loudly praised my noble act from behind.

He said, "Old Zhao, you did the right thing! A loser like you who crashed doesn't deserve a hero's welcome!"

Shen Wuzei and I watched as the nearby subway station was blocked off by rows of fences and security personnel in black uniforms, forcing us to take a long detour to reach it.

While running, Shen Wuzei comforted me, saying, "It's okay. If you don't run a marathon this year, we can always talk about it in 2019."

He said, "Marathons aren't everything in life. It's just a hobby. Don't put too much pressure on yourself. Besides marathons, there's also trail running. I see you go down stairs pretty fast; why not try trail running?"

He said, "You crashed in Shenzhen and didn't achieve your PB. You feel embarrassed. But Old Zhao, it's no big deal. It's not the first time you've broken a promise. Everyone's used to it. Don't carry that burden."

If I hadn't estimated that I couldn't beat him in a fight, would you believe I would have started a brawl right there?

After news of my crash spread, I started receiving congratulatory messages from all over the country.

Erdan said, "Old Zhao, from today, Shen Wuzei is your pacer. We have nothing to do with each other anymore."

Chenzhong said, "Old Zhao, I'm learning boxing. Next year, I'll be your pacer. If you can't run, I'll beat you up."

Bai Wei said, "Look at your gesture. It's not a heart; you're just holding a bowl!"

Sigh, as someone who crashed, I have no face to show to the people back home. Let them say whatever they want.

Anyway, I have thick skin!

As long as there's a will, there's a way. If not this year, then next year.