All the choices for this trip to Lanzhou were made on the fly. Three days before the race, I decided to skip the Tangshan 100km bike race and chose the Lanzhou Marathon instead. I randomly picked a round-trip flight and booked a hotel close to the starting point. Just like that, I headed to Lanzhou!

The person I was supposed to bring along injured their foot and went off on their own, so I could run freely. Da Pan aimed for 3:10, but I didn't want to push myself. I had just run 6:30 in Yinchuan last week and hadn't run at all this week. Jumping straight to 3:10 seemed too exhausting. Uncle Jerry was aiming for 4:00, and Shuke for 4:30. I didn't want to take it too easy either, fearing the sun would scorch me in the latter half. With no one to run with, I decided to aim for 3:30—not too fast, not too slow, and I'd finish before the sun got too intense. A perfect impromptu plan!

Just after the start, not even a kilometer in, a guy caught up to me, panting, and asked how fast I planned to run.

"How fast are you running?" I asked.

"I want to try for 3:30!"

I encouraged him, saying 3:30 wasn't hard. At that pace, around 4:30 per kilometer, he should be fine for the whole race.

"But my personal best is 3:55, and I'm experiencing some altitude sickness," he told me.

"You started too fast. Slow down a bit! That altitude sickness is definitely from pushing too hard. On the plateau, you need to start slow, adapt, and then speed up," I advised. "If you're not afraid of me slowing you down, stick with me. If you can keep up, I'll get you to 3:30."

He agreed without hesitation. Just like that, two strangers formed a temporary team. For the first ten kilometers, I helped him adjust his pace and breathing. Fortunately, he had a good foundation, and by ten kilometers, he had stabilized his pace and breathing, and his altitude sickness began to subside. He was back to normal with no other issues.

Once he found his rhythm, the rest of the race was much easier for him. At the 40-kilometer mark, with fifteen minutes to spare, I told him to go ahead. He had no problem finishing in 3:30. I aimed for exactly 3:30:00 but missed it, finishing in 3:28:27.

At the finish line, after watching Jiao Anjing's award ceremony, I went to pick up my bag and ran into him again. He finished in 3:26, achieving his goal. We officially parted ways there. He went to his hotel, and I went to pick up my bag and find Da Pan. I didn't know his name or where he was from, and he didn't know who I was either. We probably won't remember each other, but if fate allows, we might meet again.

Helping someone along the way was a spontaneous decision, and helping someone achieve their dream was an unexpected reward. This might be the most memorable part of my trip!

Actually, the temperature in Lanzhou was quite pleasant. At the start, it was a bit cloudy and cool, like a fall morning. The sun only came out after nineteen kilometers, and it wasn't too hot, just a bit sunny. Fortunately, there were dust suppression trucks spraying water every few kilometers to cool us down. Overall, it was manageable.

I didn't have the pressure of aiming for a specific time, just helping someone achieve 3:30. The guy was also determined and had a good foundation. I just needed to check on him periodically, reminding him not to slow down or speed up. So, the task wasn't difficult.

I was relatively relaxed throughout the race. I stopped at every water station and ate all the supplies—cherries, cucumbers, tomatoes, bananas. Everything caught my eye. I even took a cucumber to a photographer for a picture, but I never found the photo. Maybe my eating face was too ugly, and the photographer didn't want to upload it.

This was my seventh full marathon in 2019, and unlike previous races, I didn't aim for a specific time from the start. I was calm, both physically and mentally, and my reactions were different from before. This difference was clearly reflected in my heart rate.

My heart rate is usually high during marathons, averaging around 176. But this time, despite the high altitude and temperature, my heart rate was ten points lower, averaging around 165. I didn't experience any shortness of breath or chest tightness, not even heavy breathing, which was unprecedented.

Unlike previous races where I miscalculated time, slowed down, or had issues like chafing, this time I didn't even use band-aids or Vaseline and had no problems. My legs didn't hurt, my muscles weren't sore, and my knees weren't tight. From start to finish, I was in the most relaxed and comfortable state. My only regret was not hitting exactly 3:30:00. I should have slowed down a bit more at the end.

I had no regrets on the racecourse, and I had no regrets about the city of Lanzhou either. I saw the Yellow River, climbed mountains, and even encountered cave dwellings from a distance. Although it wasn't where I had lived, it still felt familiar. The rows of cave dwellings built into the mountainsides, with occasional dog barks, felt very nostalgic.

Standing on the mountaintop, looking out at the city surrounded by ravines, it was just like my hometown. Sparse vegetation, dark ravines, and green-tinged ridges surrounded the city, much like my small village. My hometown also has ridges, ravines, and cave dwellings, just on a smaller scale.

The Yellow River runs through the center of the city, and standing on its banks, I felt a surge of emotion.

In my grandmother's yard in Shanxi, the Yellow River flowed just below. I grew up drinking its water. Across the river was Shaanxi. In my youth, I would strip down and swim across to steal fruits from the orchards there. Now, as I've aged, I'm afraid to swim in open waters. Looking at the familiar Yellow River, I felt a bit apprehensive. Its turbulent waters flow freely for thousands of miles, passing by my hometown and the places where I once played.

An impulsive decision led to an unexpected transformation. Sitting on the plane back to Beijing, I reflected on this trip to Lanzhou and realized many things. The people and things I once valued and obsessed over seemed to have clear answers now. By being more spontaneous and less rigid, I might see a different sky.

As I wrote these words, the plane encountered turbulence. The sunset outside was beautiful, with mountains and rivers in view, and a thin layer of clouds cutting across the sky, illuminated by the sunset.

But beneath this sunset, there were indeed dark clouds, thunder, and lightning. The plane couldn't even land!

I don't know why, but every time I fly with United Airlines, there's a problem. Every time I fly to Nanyuan, there's a problem. Bad airline, bad airport, bad luck combined! I boarded in Lanzhou at five, stopped in Qingyang for an hour, flew to Beijing, then returned to Taiyuan, waited an hour, flew halfway, and returned again. After six exhausting hours, the flight was canceled, and I spent the night in Taiyuan. This impulsive trip finally had its downside—trouble getting back to Beijing!

After midnight, the bus driver got lost for half an hour before finding the hotel. I plugged in my phone and finally had time to look for high-speed train tickets back to Beijing, but 12306 doesn't sell tickets after midnight.

I was too tired to keep my eyes open. Whoever cares, let them care. After all this trouble, I'm going to sleep first...