Chasing the moonlight shadow

I had never thought that running at night could be that satisfying.

Winter is approaching and so does the cold. The problem with training during cold weather is : it takes time to warm up properly. It is difficult to cool down when the weather is hot, but when it is cold, it is the other way around. But once your body is warmed up to the optimal point, you will be flying through all the coming kilometers. At this point, the cold of the surrounding becomes good to your body. It keeps your body from overheating, something which I have to pay attention to during summer. 

As the daylight is shortened drastically, training during night time becomes inevitable. While I do all my cycling session indoor nowadays, I still jog outdoor since I don't have a treadmill or subscription or membership of any gym. Believe it or not, I have never jogged during night time before. But after first try, it turned out alright and I actually prefer during night time now.

I always jog along the Isère river : there is a cycling path along both sides of the river. Compare to summer, the number of joggers is reduced sharply, probably not many people like to run under the cold condition. And at night, there is hardly any people at all. I like the feeling of being out there, in the dark, in the cold, training alone, while other people are staying indoor and having their warm dinner. It gives me goosebumps almost by simply thinking so : I am the only one still training at this very moment of the day. It gives a very unique experience. It makes me feel fulfilling and almost, heroic. 

Most of the time, my training route would pass by a 1 km path with no lamp post, no streetlight at all, with one side is the river and the other is a cemetery. It is flat and exposed. Not a single tree is there, nothing to block the sky above. It is just me, the earth, and the sky. Running through there alone and at night, I feel like I own the night and the sky. But at the same time, the long stretch of the sky also reminds me of how tiny and how vulnerable I am to the nature and it feels like the other way around : the nature owns me. While I continue to run and try to catch my breathe, this particular thought is literally breathtaking. It is the most sacred moment throughout my run.

Sometimes when the sky is clear and the moon is out, I would simply switch off my headlight and let the moonlight guide me. The moonlight would cast a shadow of me on the path and suddenly I am no longer running alone. Suddenly I got a running partner and this one is perfectly synchronized with my pace. Sometimes he runs in front of me, sometimes following closely behind me. But I always prefer running after him, chasing after him, because in this way, he can motivates me more. 

If God exists in our world, this is probably how it feels like to get in touch with Him.  

Faith on a single rope

I am sure now : I am not able to shout when facing death.

On the 26th October, my friend Yogesh and I decided to do bungee jump off the bridge of Ponsonnas. Well actually it was his idea and I just tagged along. Ponsonnas is not very far from where I stay. To get there from Grenoble without a car is a bit tricky though. We had to take our bikes, then travel by bus to La Mure with our bikes inside the lower compartment of the bus. After that, from La Mure, we had to cycle around 5km to the bridge, our final destination. But after reaching La Mure, we still have plenty of time before the jump. So we took a decent lunch at La Mure.

Cycling!

The way from La Mure to the bridge is all the way downhill. It is always fun to cycle downhill but at the same time, it was not what I had expected. I thought it was uphill so that when coming back time, we could just chill and enjoy the downhill slope. I really worried about the way back because we needed to hurry back to the bus stop from the bridge in order to catch the last bus back to Grenoble. Our jump is at 16h00 and it was said that the jump plus the climbing back up the bridge was going to take 30mins. Plus a margin of another 15mins, and the bus was at 17h28 exactly, so we had to make it within 45mins.

On the way to the bridge.

We arrived really early. In fact, 2 hours earlier than we supposed to be. Standing on the arch bridge behind the bar of protection, the height of the bridge did look imposing and scary at first sight. But the longer you stand up there, the longer you look at the river down the valley, the fear of the height wore off significantly. I felt safe and start to enjoy the surrounding view. There really was nothing much. The scenery was nice and all but it was not long before we got bored. So we watched other people jump and laughed at their reaction. Yes, we laughed at other people!

Everybody checking out the drop before the jump.

Bridge of Ponsonnas

The valley seen from the bridge, and Drac river down there.

"Hahaha, somebody just fell off!"

15h30, we were given a DVD with our names and weight and standing in the waiting line for the jump. The DVD was for recording our jump. Then a worker there weighed each of us and put on harnesses on us, one sit harness and another one around the both ankles which the main rope would be attached to. Then just waiting. For now, I still thought it would be an easy task - just a simple leap forward.

Yogesh jumped first. His jump was a bit weird. After the instructor said OK to go, he just leaned forward and lost from sight in a long silence. His jump was technically not even a jump. From my point of view, his legs were just weakened and the gravity did its work. Everybody up the bridge was also silent, probably expecting him to shout, or burst out laughing or whatever, expecting some sign of him still alive. But nothing from him and the long silence was a bit worrying.

The instructor looked down the valley, showed no expression. Then I knew he was OK and reached the bottom safely. Now my turn. Rope attached, safety equipment checked and rechecked, and I was ready to go. Surprisingly, I managed to stand on the ledge and still relax, even managed to look forward and look down. But when I thought I was ready to go, my body seemed subconsciously holding myself back. Now only I realized that it was not easy at all. To jump, you needs to fight against your survival instinct. "Laughing at other people just now?! Now the joke is on me!" I thought. I waited and waited, but in the end I took a deep breathe and leaped.

I am still struggling to find the right words to describe the sensation of the jump. It was really really really scary. Everything passed in merely a few seconds, but the few seconds had been hard burned in my memory. It is nothing like roller coaster ride or drop tower because this is THE real free fall!

As I leaped out of the ledge, my body accelerated. Everything around me seemed magnified. Trees and rocks growing in size fast and the river was approaching me even faster. My mind was a total blank, emptied by absolute fear. Every muscle in my body was tensed up, I could not scream. My arms were tensed up too and aligned towards the ever-magnifying river in front of me, almost as if trying to push against the inevitable. I really felt like I could almost touch the river before the rope pulled me back again. At the lowest point of the drop, the river seemed really near even though there was still probably a few dozen meters from the ground. All these happened in just a few seconds. Throughout this period of time, I knew I was going to be safe but still the fear, the adrenalin rush was just too much.

The red landing spot.

Then the rope did its work. Only now I was able to clear my throat and burst out laughing, not sure what was I laughing at. What I felt afterwards was just dizziness. The rope bounced me around, I was spinning and swinging, the feeling was not great at all. After a few bounces, slowly I came to stop and the instructor up at the bridge slowly lowered me down to the river bed. There was another worker down there guiding me to land onto a mattress. Undoing both harnesses and he wrote me a certificate certifying the jump. Yogesh was already waiting for me not far away, to go back up together. Getting up from the mattress, my legs felt like jello for a brief moment, unable to walk properly. I went to Yogesh and rested for a while. I really needed to recuperate, to catch my breathe, and to feel my legs again because my nerve was still unsettled.

Back to the reception, the receptionist showed us our jumps. Looking back at your own reaction was very funny. Yogesh bought the DVD but not me because it was slightly over-priced in my opinion. Then we rushed back as fast as we could back to La Mure. The bus departed earlier than schedule, luckily we still managed to arrive in time for that bus.

The certificate. 

The sensation of the jump was so intense that it actually haunted both of us for quite awhile. That night, that few seconds of free falling was still vivid in our mind, even recalling the experience could make my whole body jerk backward. Until now at this moment, that sensation is still fresh in my mind, as if I just made the jump yesterday. If ever I would do another bungee jump, I doubt that I am able to cope and feel differently.


Now that bungee jump is done and I wonder what kind of courage is needed to jump off a building, to commit suicide. Those who did it probably had long died of intense horror of the sheer acceleration before they even hit the ground.

He is gone forever

Every single shop is closed. The streets are as empty as they can ever be. The city is dead as it is motionless and awkwardly silent. The only thing reminds me of life is the scent of the chrysanthemum floating in the autumn cold morning. While I am boiling water for my coffee, the sudden realization hits me : today is Toussaint, a day to remember the dead one.

If I recall correctly, this is what happened when the news struck me. It was six in the morning in Malpensa airport. The sun was already out. The brightness of the sun suggested summer heat with great intensity. But the air was cold inside the airport as the air conditioner was on full blast. I was putting on my jacket as I was having my coffee, while waiting for the arrival of my family. The night before was a good night sleep for me despite sleeping in the airport. The day started fresh and promising.

My family arrived very soon after the exact arrival time of their flight, so much sooner than I had expected. There is no single current communication technology, not Skype, not telephone, not Voip, can replace the joy of seeing the people you love in person, hug them, talk to them. And this was the exact emotion we all experienced when my family and I were finally reunited. But through the eyes of my parents, I could slightly sense that they felt differently : joy but at the same time something more... 

"Your grandpa just passed away", said my mother. I knew it was a bad news and I should be sad, face to face with his death. I waited for awhile. I guess I was waiting for my eyes to swell up, waiting for some sort of tears. While at the mean time, my eyes were avoiding everybody, looking into the void, and everybody else seemed to be waiting for my response. I felt a strange kind of pressure, the one same as an actor on stage while the audience were expecting him to perfect the performance. But nothing hit me. Absolutely nothing! For a brief moment, I didn't know what to feel except ashamed of myself for not feeling sorrow. 

Probably of the generation gap, or of the lack of time my grandpa and I had spent together. Whatever the reason of my lack of emotion after hearing the news, the first thing I had in mind : it hit my dad hard, and so to my grandma, my aunties and uncles. I worried about them. I knew that they had to stay strong, for now that our family had just lost its most important pillar. 

The funny thing is, my dad was giving me a lot of motivation to comfort me, while it should be the other way. I should be the one comforting to him. But I guess it is a duty of a dad, and also the ego of a man for not showing what men assume to be a weakness : showing his emotions in front of another man. I was certain that he was sad deep down. But in between me and my dad, we only talk deep emotional stuff when alcohol is involved. I got to know what he really felt afterwards through my mom, as he only expresses his feelings to her. I guess it is a curse of men, as we are not socially acceptable to express our emotion all the time and so we are trained not to show it. Men are socially handicap, as we are unable to express ourselves easily.

The person I worry the most is probably my grandma. She just lost her the other half, can you imagine that?! Later, my sister told me that my granddad left my grandma some sort of last words in a book which she had long forgotten. How sweet was he! I cannot imagine her go through all these hardship. Luckily, both my aunties are always staying very near to her. In case she needs somebody to be there with her suddenly, there will be somebody.

Death is so final, so forever. It is like saying goodbye and knowing we will never see each other again. Forever is so cruel, so far beyond our grasp. "I am not afraid of death but I resent it," and this is exactly how I feel about death : I hate it, I hate it when people die, and I hate to die. I hate the fact that the brightest in our family is gone, forever.

Whenever I thought I read enough books, thought that I have known enough, my granddad always came up with something that I had not known before. Until today this moment, I still have no idea how much he knows. If he is a mathematical symbol, he would be the infinity. He is one of the people I look up to, besides my dad, Einstein, Tesla, Buddha, and so many more. It might be useless now because I should have said all this to him when he was around. I don't know how my dad views my granddad but I think at one point of our life, father is a superhero to all us. In fact, both of them are heroes to me. If I am Frodo Baggins, my dad will be Aragorn and my granddad will be Gandalf. But this time, Gandalf is gone and he won't be back as Gandalf the White.

Banksy said : "They say you die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later on, when somebody says your name for the last time." So my granddad might be physically gone forever, but I am sure that this passage would not be the last time my granddad being mentioned.

潘志高 is my granddad.

The latest photo I had with my grandparents, edited by my sister

My granddad and I