My biggest nightmare in racing materialized at the Live Well Half Marathon that took place on March 26, 2022, in Greenville, North Carolina. Observing the course map with countless turns, I worried, based on the small field, I would be running a large portion alone and become confused in certain sections. When I entered a stadium of some sort with no sign or marking for a long stretch and tens and tens of cars lined up, filling up the space, I did not know if I made a wrong turn. Somehow I found my way around the maze, and 9 or 10 miles in, I had to run through traffic with no police officer or official and send an exaggerated motion to the drivers to not run me over. With just over two miles to go, still on pace to easily come in 1:55 and potentially 1:54 and full of energy, I saw a sign with a straight arrow but tilted and pointing toward the right, which I interpreted as turn right. There was another turn that followed, followed by another and another, but I knew I had already completed this section prior. I screamed, asking for help, with no volunteer, race official, or runner anywhere near. I had no choice but to keep going, and I even took out my phone and opened the Waze app to determine how I would return and tried calling the race to no avail. I continued redoing the section I had already completed, and when I frequently asked strangers if they had seen runners, one group pointed me farther back, where I ultimately ran into a half-marathon participant I recognized. I knew where I had landed, again, and turned around and kept going the way I went originally. When I came back to that vague sign, I ran straight this time and saw the mile 11 sign, which told me I was not supposed to take that right turn. I no longer had the desire to push hard and naturally slowed down in the additional miles, crossing the finish line in 2:23:30.31, with my new COROS PACE 2 reading 15.95 miles, which likely means over 16 miles based on the previous mileage signs.

If I had not been having such a fine run, I would not have been as upset, but I pushed my way through to nearly the end just to be misled by one sign that required me to do an additional 5K. My 49th half marathon and 82nd race, this course must have been the most poorly organized and frustrating. I have gotten lost in races previously, but never have I ever had to complete another 5K in just a 13.1-mile run. I relayed my concerns to the race director, who remained cordial and appreciated my feedback. I may have to squeeze in another race next weekend just to wipe this bitter taste off my mouth. The only consolation would be that I found my way back and was able to complete the entire original course, as I thought at one point I would have to quit because I did not know where I was going. For the rest of my amateur running career, I may no longer register for a tiny local running event in which the course has an inexplicable number of turns, as I am frankly sick and tired of having to make not getting lost my main focus rather than running to the best of my ability.

As the end of February drew near and not yet having raced this month, I, almost out of desperation, registered for the 2022 Ellerbe Half Marathon, taking place on the last Saturday of the month in the eponymous city of North Carolina. Observing its daunting elevation chart prior, I hesitated initially, but I had no other option. The Tuesday of the same week, I went out for an easy run of just over four miles, and my legs almost unprecedentedly from the beginning felt fatigued and shins and calves burned and would not recover. I had already signed up for this event, so I took the remaining days meticulously stretching and massaging my legs with a muscle-roller stick, praying, and hoping that the pain would not reappear on race day.

Not knowing the state of my legs, I started the race slightly nervous. I thought I felt a similar pain the first couple of miles, but thankfully, this discomfort subsided in the following mile. The course, 13.32 miles with 758 feet of elevation gain according to my Garmin, consisted of repeated hills of up and down, which I do not mind generally, but the first half included more downhill running and the second half felt to be nonstop climbing, perfect recipe for slowing down drastically the second half after a decent first half, exactly what happened. The fierce headwind the final few miles certainly did not help. My focus shifted from a sub-two-hour finish to simply running the whole way without a walking break, which I managed without much adversity. I crossed the finish line with a gun time of 2:06:06, relieved and grateful to God that my legs did not present a problem because I worried perhaps I carried minor shin splints or another form of overuse injury. I understood my result would be less than ideal here, so I basically considered this as a solid training run.

I imagined concluding 2021 in Korea with family and close ones I have not seen in nearly two years, so when this much-anticipated trip was abruptly canceled due to the new Omicron variant that convinced the country to implement a 10-day quarantine, I sought a major event so that I did not feel I wasted the holidays. The 7 Hour New Year Ultra Celebration, hosted by East Coast Trail Racing in Flagler Beach, Florida, caught my eye, and I registered to be on the waiting list. Once the race director approved in the evening of three days prior, I took a few hours to confirm solely because I would be driving from Raleigh, North Carolina, down to Palm Coast, Florida, the day before and coming back up immediately following the race, 1,080.8 miles in total.

The event location unseasonably welcomed suffocating humidity and sunny heat that must have rested at 85 degrees, so I approached my run conservatively. A large portion of this deceptively challenging 0.78-mile course took place in a forested area with constant tangents, roots, and minor hills. From an early part of the race, I realistically lowered my standard significantly to simply comfortably surpassing the marathon distance. An hour and a half in, I felt pain shooting up my right foot, and I could not tell whether a cramp or injury caused this; I repeatedly stretched while continuing to move and prayed, and soon the pain fled and never returned. About an hour to go, the timing official informed me I sat at men’s fourth place but that he believes I could catch the third, but his not letting me know who specifically made me, to err on the side of caution, pass as many as my remaining energy permitted. I did not want any regrets I did not give my all, so I began running a lot more, and for my second-to-last loop, when I identified my competition, I took off and recorded one of my faster laps, allowing me enough time to attempt to and successfully squeeze in one more even more quickly, which nauseated me during and a while after. My rival commented he decided to end his race when he heard I headed for another loop and knew he could not catch me. I completed my 37th loop with just over three minutes to spare, finishing officially at 28.86 miles, while my Garmin reads 29.35 miles, and 3rd male and 4th among both men and women. This also became my longest race for which I did not listen to music.

What better way to kick off a new year? I thank Jesus for being with me every step of the way, as I acknowledge apart from Him I can do nothing. I also want to give a shout-out to the encouraging and cordial race director for letting me in last-minute, as this event helped distract me from feeling lonely and depressed during New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. Happy 2022!

Seeing how close to my home the Raleigh (Holiday) Half Marathon, this year’s USATF and RRCA State Championship, took place on December 4, 2021, and I would not have to drive for hours as I do for most races, I could not justify opting out and registered only a couple of days prior to the event. Until recently, its course formed a combination of several routes I take when casually running; thus, without the course change last year, I likely would have skipped. I would have preferred colder, but the morning still felt semi-ideal for a 13.1-miler.

I kept my pace consistent and pushed harder whenever I saw my Garmin pace slow down, often catching me off guard because I felt no sign of fatigue. I had forgotten about the short but steep climb that awaited a mile and a half to go, and I adamantly ran the whole section and exerted a significant amount of energy, which impacted the rest of my race; in hindsight, I may have walked this hill. Several runners and I often swapped places, and I continued to encourage them to keep moving and oddly even hoped they would pass me, which rarely happens towards the end of my race because I generally sprint and myself do the passing. Three different participants told me post-race I helped them, indirectly saying they used me as a pacer, which was flattering. I expected to run faster than a 1:56:11 finish, but I am always grateful to be able to experience so many of these challenging events and meet amazing people along the way.

As has been my tradition for years, I began Thanksgiving 2021 with a race, albeit with a shorter 10K rather than a typical half marathon due to a lack of options nearby, at the Trophy Trot 10K in my current city of Raleigh, North Carolina. Based on how effortlessly my pace has increased recently with the chillier weather, I targeted an ambitious time goal, not realizing the entire course comprised moderate hills.

Kicking off the run going around and through countless joggers who decided to line up front felt irritating, as I unnecessarily wasted valuable energy and was hindered from speeding up for the first 1/10th of a mile. I should have jogged around prior, as my body warmed up on mile 4, evident by my significant negative split the second half. Generally, in a half marathon or farther, I can afford to take a few miles to warm up, but in a race that lasts only around 50 minutes, I should have been smarter, especially in a 32-degree start. I read in the waiver no musical device was permitted, and, although nobody cares, being the OCD-rule follower I am, I ran without music, which I am accustomed to and frankly enjoy at this point. Just over a mile to go, as I was climbing, a lady on the side cheering the runners on said, “Don’t fight the hill. Embrace it.” Something about this statement touched me, as most challenges we face are all about our attitude and perspective. A quarter of a mile left, I, still feeling 100%, sprinted and passed more people than I could count, finishing the 10K, 6.32 miles with an elevation gain of 404 feet according to my Garmin, in 54:09, minutes slower than my prediction but understandable considering the hills. Still, I had fun, all that matters. Happy Thanksgiving!

Signing up for the Mayberry Half Marathon, set for November 13, 2021, in Mount Airy, North Carolina, felt to be a no-brainer after observing the course map and ideal chilly weather forecast. With a 41-degree start on a mostly flat trail, I wasted no time pushing the pace, understanding I would be working with a brand new engine from the one in previous months in summer heat. Without a timing mat at the start, this event only offered a chip finish time, basically gun time, so I made certain to line up just behind the front runners so that my official time would read as close to my actual time as possible. I locked into a comfortable pace and felt at peace until I saw 2:00 pacers tailgating me for a long stretch before passing me, implying they were running significantly faster than their sign displayed and likely messed up many runners’ attempt to barely achieve a sub-two-hour goal by staying in proximity with them. I passed the pacers around mile 7, when my body began to feel stronger and I believed I could hold my pace until the end without an issue.

I hoped I could have used the bathroom prior to the race, as my stomach felt uneasy the entire way; consequently, I barely utilized any aid station for fluid to avoid upsetting the body even more, so when I tried to grab a water from a volunteer with just over a mile to go to sufficiently refresh me to finish strong and she inadvertently pulled the cup as I reached, making me miss it, I rightly became extra irritated, even though I should not have complained, “Come on!” I crossed the finish with an official time of 1:53:59.2, content as I had not run this kind of time in months, thanks to the heat and humidity. I hope this result could be an indication of my performances to come in the upcoming months in chillier weather.

My embarrassing performance at the Berlin Marathon did not sit well with me, and I was eager to redeem myself soon. I sought a half marathon, and Virginia’s local Danville Half Marathon, taking place on October 16, 2021, in the eponymous city caught my eye because I observed the forecast that the morning should start off cool and the course was advertised as mostly flat. I still waited until minutes prior to the online registration deadline because my employer hosted an annual nearly all-day Olympics the day before; not knowing what I would be required to do, I wanted to be sure my body felt fine, which I thought it did until I woke up the next morning with aching thighs. This became my second consecutive race starting on sore legs.

To my unpleasant surprise, the 13.1-miler kicked off already full of sunlight and heat, likely reaching almost 80 degrees, and I could feel its impact on my body especially with four miles to go. In spite of my gradually slowing down, I refused to walk and maintained a relatively steady pace, allowing me to pass several strong-looking runners who had to mix in walking throughout and toward the end. I crossed the finish in an unnecessary sprint, thinking the man behind me would be attempting to catch up to me when he did not, in 2:01:51.24, more than sufficient for first place in my age group of 30-34. Albeit I arrived expecting a comfortable sub-2:00:00, once I felt the heat from the get-go, I knew this generally easy goal to be an uphill battle. I have no doubt once the weather finally cools off, I will regain my speed, so I will remain content in simply giving my best for now.

Following my lottery rejection for Berlin Marathon 2020, I was informed another easier route to an entry through tour operators, and I chose interAir GmbH, requiring me to simply book a hotel through this travel agency. When the marathon was canceled due to the pandemic, I chose the option to defer rather than receive a full refund, not foreseeing even in late 2021 the world would be battling the inconveniences of COVID-19. Not even two weeks left, I mentally laid this down, unable to figure out how I could make the trip work after waiting so long due to so much uncertainty surrounding the event and the lack of communication from the organizers and I had just taken on an evening project with my employer. By the time I thought about booking flights, the prices had skyrocketed; yet, miraculously I found a deal on Expedia I could not pass up by bundling flights and a hotel, and I finally pulled the trigger. Preparing the logistics, especially locating a testing center open on Sunday after my race and having to test negative in order to return to the United States the following morning, stressed me so much, not to mention United Airlines canceled my first flight past 10:00 PM the night before departure, I believed wholeheartedly running the marathon would be the easiest thing I would do on this brief trip, September 23-27, 2021. Leading up to the race, I predictably walked exponentially more than I should have, even climbing up and down the Berliner Dom that caused my legs to violently shake the day before, and I woke up the morning of the marathon with sore legs. Albeit the weather on race day up until a couple of weeks prior was forecast ideal for a 26.2-mile run, just that one day suddenly turned on us with unexpected heat of nearly 80 degrees and humidity. Because the event website asked runners not to wear headphones, I for the third consecutive race and first for the marathon distance ran without music and again enjoyed the purity of the run itself. I took a slow pace but still moved faster than most in my wave, for 4:15 or slower or first-time marathoners. A mile in, I had to squeeze through a couple, common in a race of this immensity, and politely said, “Excuse me.” What sounded like a British accent came back with, “Go around,” which I ignored until I heard what followed: “Dickhead.” I never expected to be cussed at by a stranger in a marathon out of all places and instinctively turned around and replied, “Shut the f–k up, b-tch,” to which the troublemaker remained silent and likely frightened. This immature incident bothered me for the next mile, but I quickly shook it off and told myself, “I am in Berlin. Enjoy it!” I even faced difficulty on mile 3 maintaining my pace, thanks to the virtual barricade that had formed of countless slower runners with no space for me to pass. I atypically had to stop by a porta potty, or so I thought, past the 20-kilometer split timing mats; I could not pee and wasted 30 seconds. Here, whether from the short stop or the adverse conditions, perhaps both, my flow was abruptly snapped and I could not relocate my comfortable strides. 16 miles in, I began struggling. I already knew a personal record would be a push but still thought I had a 4:30 in me, which proved to be too big of a B goal for the day. I swallowed my pride and significantly lowered my goal to finishing under five hours, and when I noticed my Garmin and the kilometer signs did not coincide, I pushed the final mile and a half harder, knowing I would be nowhere near the finish when my watch reached 26.2 miles. I crossed the finish line in 4:57:42, by far my slowest marathon to date, at 26.8 miles on my Garmin; at my slow pace at the end, this distance discrepancy meant a difference of 6-7 minutes. Nevertheless, I was filled with gratitude toward God that He even allowed me to do this that seemed to be impossible until not even a couple of weeks previously. I would have to be a selfish brat to be upset over something as minute as my finish time when many participants could not finish and many more could not toe the line for a variety of reasons; I witnessed one lady lying on the ground being attended to about 1.5 miles to go, which made me feel emotional for her. After chugging some complimentary beer, returning my timing chip, and getting my embarrassing finish time engraved on the back of my finisher’s medal, service I paid for during registration, I proceeded to the testing center quite a distance away and received my negative result twenty minutes later, which squashed my biggest concern of being stuck in Germany. I thank my Father for orchestrating and watching over me throughout this entire journey. Two Majors down, four to go!

Even though I generally do not sign up for a race of a distance I easily cover in a casual run, I sat on The Carying Place Labor Day Race for Home 10K, hosted by Fit & Able Productions, for days because I would only need to drive 15 minutes to reach the event location in Cary, North Carolina. After confirming some details with the organization, I registered the night before at the last minute, literally, at 5:59 PM when online registration closed at 6:00 PM. About 2:30 AM on race day, my entire apartment complex was forced to evacuate due to a deafening fire alarm that lasted over half an hour, and based on solely one apartment flashing and reeking of weed, some of us suspect dolts there were getting high. Suffice to say, I went into the race half asleep.

I ran without music for the second consecutive race, and the more I do this the more I enjoy running because I become more aware of nature and my surrounding, especially if the course can be confusing. Often when I listen to music, I become anxious and impatient for each song to end that would signify how far I have gone, making the run feel like homework I have to do rather than a hobby I choose to do. I chatted with fellow runners and exchanged positive cheers with volunteers, as they continued to shout my bib number, “Go, 285! We see you, 285!” The course remained mostly flat and breathtakingly gorgeous with a lake at the center surrounded by armies of trees, and the heat did not bother me, as I knew I was only covering a 10K, 6.27 miles according to my Garmin. I crossed the finish line in 54:30.5, by far one of my worst 10K times ever but not surprising due to the summer heat and I nowhere near emptied the tank. Race or not I was going to run, so why not make it a race on this day off where I can make new friends who reside in my area?