Tonight I went on a footrace with some unknown Kung Fu master.
Not having worked out at the gym the last few days, I had got it into my head that I would walk home from work today. It’s a good 30 minute and I usually get to the house feeling nicely fazed. There are some challenges to this walk though. One of them is you can’t walk on one particular side of the road because the pedestrian path goes right under some trees that local egrets have decided to call home. Unless you’re willing to take your chances with highly acidic and fishy bird poop, you can’t pass there. The other challenge is the sidewalk isn’t anywhere near even. It goes up and down very abruptly, with many camouflaged obstacles like telephone pole stumps, brow-height street sign edges, missing cobbles, missing manhole covers, phone pole guy wire anchors, and parts where the sidewalk had collapsed completely into the sewers below. Just to make things more interesting, there are large intervals of the sidewalk that are in complete darkness. Nevertheless, as I have walked this way many times before, I know I can negotiate it with a grain of caution.
One other option is to go off the sidewalk and walk on the roadway itself. I do not often do this as both motorcyclists and public utility minivans think nothing of running mere centimeters from you at high speeds. An imprudent leaning to one side could easily spell grievous bodily harm and even an untimely demise.
So there I was walking when I noticed up ahead, on the roadway but close to the shoulder, a man in a tunic like outfit, clad in flip-flops, pulling an old-fashioned bamboo cart, you know, the one with two long handles and rests on two large wheels? The outfit he had on reminded me right away of Bruce Lee, because he wore loose trousers, and his Chinese-collared long-sleeved tunic was also loose. He was going my direction.
I quickly dismissed him from my mind, half-expecting to draw up on him and then pass him at any coming moment. I only had an empty knapsack and was wearing comfortable track shoes besides. My eyebrows went up when I noticed that not only was I not catching up on this KF Master, but inexplicably, he was steadily pulling away from me. Now how could he do that? I watched his legs in action. No, he wasn’t running. If anything, he looked like he was taking both slower and shorter strides than I was. Besides, how fast could he go? He was in flip-flops for heavens sakes!
So why, even as I watched, did he seem to be pulling ahead? I shook my head. Nonsense! I quickened my pace, but taking care not to appear that I was running. I’ll show him! With a quiet sense of exultation I closed the distance. But what should have been a quick sprint to close the gap didn’t turn out to be a sprint. It took serious effort! A glance at him showed that no, he didn’t seem to be trying to walk any faster. How the heck was he doing this?
I passed him! Hallelujah, I passed him. I was practically running now. In the half-dark, dodging trash cans, plant pots, phone pole stumps and trying to fall into a manhole. My breathing was rapid now and I was seriously pumping those legs. I imagined in my head that I was pulling rapidly away from this impudent stranger and quelling the urge to look over my shoulder to see how far back he was.
Of course, I looked. And there he was, KF Master, languidly walking in flipflops, about 12 paces behind me, keeping apace and threatening to overtake should I ease up on my frantic rapid strides. Oh my gosh! This was not looking good! Did this mean I would have to maintain this pace till my house? That was miles ahead!
I could feel the beginnings of shin splints, and my calves had begun to ache. No, I steeled myself. I would not fall behind this man. Besides, with any luck, he’ll probably arrive at his fruit stall or maybe veer off to a side street. Just keep walking, man, and pretend he doesn’t exist. For the next 10 minutes I did my best to look nonchalant while attempting to break into a run. I also told myself that no, I would not look back.
And so I looked back. And there he was! 10 paces behind me! Walking as leisurely as you please, still pulling that cart. Ye gad! I had long since broken out into a sweat. The hope that he would quietly disappear into the darkness had itself disappeared. At this point I gave up trying to give a semblance of subtlety. I began leaping up and down the uneven sidewalk, dashing to the sides of open manholes, ducking under low streetsigns, and sprinting when the there was enough even ground to see. I would not, no how, be beaten by Kung Fu Master! No kungfu way! I ignored the pains in my shins, the stitches at my sides, my ragged breathing.
Farther on, much farther on, I came to a traffic build up. I was near my home too. There was no way he could get through that traffic. Wherever he was, if he was still back there, he would have been stuck. I dogged between close-packed cars and motorcycles to get to my street. On an grassy island, the last one before the turn-off to my street, I paused to catch my breath. I also paused because I wanted to know if Kungfu Master was still behind me. If I had managed to get that far ahead of him.
When the light turned green and most of the cars had passed, there, coming implacably in that deceptively unhurried pace, was Kungfu Master and his cart. Backgrounded by passing traffic, he kept going, going up the road to heavens knows where, maybe the next county.
Soundly beaten, I reverted back to a sane pace. Good night, Kungfu Master. Your Kung Fu is stronger than my Kung Fu.
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