Day 01

From Fuguei Cape to Keelung.

Having enjoyed beautiful sunshine and clement temperatures in Taipei for the ten days or so leading up to the run, it was only fitting that on Sunday, when Neil and I went up to Keelung to map out routes, that Sir Sod had his way. The heavens must have been saving it up. It started to rain and it has now rained incessantly for five days and five nights. But the rain did nothing to dampen enthusiasm or high spirits, and also proffered the chance to don our delightful waterproofs. And so early in the morning we set off for Fugueijiao, Taiwan’s most northerly point, and at around 11.30 (after the kind of faffing about that is inevitable when a bunch of mates get together to see Neil off) we made it to the lighthouse at the cape.

In recent months, Neil has been indoctrinating a naive young lad named Tommy into wanting to run on his own two legs, without sleep, for a distance of over 26 miles. (Others, too, have fallen fate to this brainwashing, and you will read about them as and when, like lemmings, they join Neil to run for a day). I can only imagine the sickening feelings Tommy must have felt on the 40km drive to the starting line, (having promised Neil a marathon and having no chance to back out now, despite the monsoon), and actually seeing every hill, bend and bump of the journey he was about to undertake stretched out before him like a journey to the Inferno. But courageous as can be, Tommy was there with Neil at the starting line, where myself, Jennifer, Kevin of the Shire and Hollywood counted down from ten and waved/ran Neil off on his mindboggling journey around Taiwan, and Tommy on his first ever (and possibly last ever?) marathon.

Following the coast from Fugueijiao, there is nothing of note to see but crashing waves and rocks, and the occasional remains of a derelict beach cafe. In the distance at one point it was possible to make out a boat. Aside from this, the first leg of the journey is devoid of exciting scenery. Around half-way we passed through Jinshan, a small beach town with a large, sandy…erm.. beach. I recalled going there with Neil last summer, where we watched surfers and chilled out in the sun dude, but after studying the beach beyond the rain pelting into my face and the grey mists abundant, it really did look better in the sunshine. A conveniently situated 7-eleven became home to Kevin, Rachel and me, and we took off our shoes, emptied out the water, dried off a little and waited for the boys. Hollywood was there at the beginning but I think beamed back up to his own planet from the lighthouse earlier.

We really began to get the hang of the difficult task of driving on ahead 5 kilometres, stopping and waiting, and greeting the runners with water and words of encouragement, and not a small amount of commentary on the variations of grey in the infinite rainclouds above. Tommy was doing brilliantly and Neil was behaving like a proud father as he encouraged him along the way, “Come on my son!” At 30 kilometres we were all thrilled and the prospect of being Dry People again began to change from unachievable dream into real possibility.

But what is a story without an obstacle? At the 30km mark, Neil told me how he was looking forward to running down a treacherously inclined hill towards Keelung beach, (which I, at this point had already driven up twice). Assuring them we’d be waiting again in 5km (about 40 minutes time) we waved them on and Rachel and I rode off on the motorbike. Around this time, someone stole my brain. I guess more than an hour passed before the hunch I had that I’d driven into the city and away from the beach, rather than towards the beach and away from the city, finally made me realise I’d gone the wrong way. The fact that we were waiting by a police station and opposite two petrol stations with traffic whizzing by, the coast nowhere in sight and the treacherously hill unridden, should have been enough to tell me this. But it wasn’t. When we finally caught up with Tommy and Neil, they’d covered 9km without in the final stages of the marathon without water or knowing where on earth we were. I think I’ll just say that some people weren’t very happy with some other person and leave it at that..(!)

With only 3km to go, Tommy was spurred on by a kiss from his beloved Rachel, and the finish line was in sight. It’s conceivable that there are more beautiful places to finish a marathon, but the makeshift bus park and enormous steel cargo boxes will always be memorable. Well done Tommy, and Neil, one down…..

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