Fast Guys

I see by my countdown calendar that I am closing in on the midpoint of my four month stay here in Fukagawa. I was delighted to be a guest of the city mayor at the recent Cherry Blossom Festival, a mixed event with lots of barbequed lamb and some talent among the several entries in the Karaoke contest. The mayor, up for re-election for a fifth term this fall, was one of the Karaoke singers.
The highlight for me, though, was discovering a winding 2km bark-mulch path winding up, down, through and around the hillside park.
I've been needing longer runs, and worrying about the lack of mountains for running. So, I heeded my runner partner, Cheryl's, advice and I headed back last Thursday morning on my street cruising bike for the park, 4-5 km north of the city to do my personal Enduro of laps.
I was surprised and delighted to find runners at the park. A dozen or so. Runners. Speedy, young guys in singlets and running shorts, complete with a couple of coaches posted at the top of the rises. Runners! I started plodding through my slow and steady routine of laps, admiring the fleet-footed fellows each time they passed. I felt at home, a path underfoot, trees around and fast guys hot-footing it past me. Who were these runners? In the few months I've been here running through the rice paddies and along the river dike, I'd seen no other runners.
I noticed, after these runners had finished, had a drink and rested a bit, they walked across the road and all climbed into the camouflage-canvas covered back of an army truck. I kept at it, slow and steady, knowing the nearest military base is about an hour away, on the Sea of Japan coastline, at Rumoi.
What a fabulous day. I'd found my local Nirvana, a running path worth driving in the troops for training, and certainly worth my few km bike trip.
Rhonda