Ode to The Annimal

Imagine what it would be like if an alien came to your town. You’ve seen them in movies and imagined that they might be real, but you’d never seen one in real life before now. But now you see her. She’s green and scaly, or whatever aliens look like, standing at your threshold. She’s speaking strange, accented English, asking you where the bathroom is. Everyone stares at the creature as she slithers (or however aliens move) by with her human friend leading the way. She’s wearing the strangest clothes, unlike anything you’ve ever seen, and everything from her hair to the way she moves is foreign. Elders stare and children cry. You have just had your first alien sighting.

We are back in DEEP China, where I am a creature from another planet and Ann is often seen as my lowly interpreter. I am a being of unending mystery, and Ann is the person who gets an ass stuck in her face as people crawl over her to try to get closer to me. Ahhh, yes. Everything is as it should be.

However, if these people could be rational for a second and see past their narcissistic need to take a picture with a foreigner so that they can put it on their wechat and gain three seconds of attention and multiple little heart clicks from their friends, they would see the real story. Everyone who has

ever read our blogs or spent a little bit of time with us on the road knows that Ann is the rock of this trip. I don’t mean this to say, “She’s great and I’m nothing…also, do I look fat in this? Do you think that girl’s prettier than me? Please love me.” No. Everyone already knows I’m a legend. That’s what my mommy tells me, anyway. The point is that together, we are doing great things AND Ann does it with grace. I need you all to understand the wonderful things that Ann does because she would never tell you herself. First of all, she’s not my interpreter (I could never afford her), but she does help me figure out what the hell-o dolly is going on, which I greatly appreciate. Before I got a grasp on Mandarin (which Ann is also teaching me) I was lost 90% of the time. And speaking of being lost, Annimal is also a bomb navigator. It took her a little while to get a grasp on Baidu maps, but now she takes the time to plan our route each night after a long day of walking a route she planned the previous night. We’re never lost (well, she isn’t. I’m always lost and I love that about this trip). Throw in constant selflessness and an unreal amount of patience, and I’ve painted a realistic picture of The Annimal.

It’s no secret that this trip has been hard. It has been an incredible experience, and it has stretched us emotionally, spiritually, physically, and intellectually. Ann has triumphed with determination and grace. Unfortunately, in some people’s eyes she will never get any appreciation. Women click their tongues at her and shake their heads at how dark her skin is, some even telling her to her face how ugly she looks with dark skin (a proper Chinese woman is supposed to have fair skin). While I want to scream, “That ‘ugly’ skin has walked across China for people with disabilities, you ignoramus! What has your skin done today?” Ann simply nods her head, excuses herself from the conversation, and doesn’t tell me what has happened until later (probably so I don’t scold the ignorant people in English, hoping they understand my distain through my anger).

I guess what I’m trying to say is that Annimal is a boss and I appreciate her so much. I’m not sure this trip would have been possible without her. It definitely would have been much more difficult and much less fun. 

Hell and Hospitality

It was a morning just like any other. The alarm rang on my phone at 6:45 AM. I turned it off, rolled over, and went back to sleep. Five minutes later, I reached for my computer, eyes still closed, and turned on a Lady Gaga song to motivate me out of bed. Annimal was already awake, sitting upright in her bed, entranced by her phone. I opened my eyes, read a few emails I had received overnight, and finally got up to get ready for a long day of walking. We were scheduled to be in Nanjing that evening, meaning we had 25 kilometers to cover before sundown. We packed our things and drank coffee as Lady Gaga music videos played in the background. The last item to go into my bag was my computer, but I paused to check my Facebook and say hello to the world before departing. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. As I scrolled through my newsfeed, I noticed that a few people had shared a story from my hometown’s news site. “7 Farmington Schools elementary students injured in bus crash” was the title. The subtitle disclosed that the crash had taken place in Red Valley, Arizona.

“That’s weird.” I thought. “My mom also went on a field trip to Arizona today.”

Holy shit.

I read on.

“33 students and two adults were on the bus that turned over, according to Navajo police….A second bus, which did not roll over, took more students to the San Juan Regional Medical Center as a precaution. The second bus did not appear to be involved in the crash.”

Which bus was she on? WHICH FUCKING BUS WAS MY MOM ON?!

I searched through my backpack for my American cell phone and impatiently waited for it to connect to wifi. My heart was beating out of my chest as I tried to calm it with rationale.

She’s probably fine. It’s 50/50. She could have been on the other bus. She was probably on the other bus.

Minutes felt like hours as I waited for my phone to connect to wifi so that I could make the call to America to hear that my mom was fine.

Finally, the call went through. My dad answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey! Dad, what’s happening?”

“Who is this?” He sounded flustered.

“Dad, it’s Darrah. What’s going on? Is Mom ok?”

“Well, your mom was in an accident. Their bus rolled over. We’ve just been to Shiprock hospital, but they sent us to Farmington. We’re heading there now. The kids are fine.” he said. Hot, heavy tears started rolling down my face. My heart broke into pieces and a loud sob came from deep in my stomach. Ann, unaware of what was happening, put her hand on my shoulder.

“Is she ok?” I asked, hopeful and terrified of the answer.

“She’s ok. Her right ear was cut off and she’s sore and bruised, but she’s okay. We’re going to Farmington to see a plastic surgeon about her ear.”

In that moment, I felt life full-on. Emotions rushed through me. I was so relieved that my mom was alive. I was so angry that this happened. I was so glad that the children were ok. I was so sad that my precious mother was injured. I said goodbye and spent the next few hours talking to people in America over Facebook. Kelly who lives next door to my parents offered to feed Kai, our dog. Emma in Fort Collins offered to try to find my brother, who wasn’t answering his phone. Lots of people offered help and condolences. After business on the home front was taken care of, I put my computer in my bag and we started walking. I knew that I couldn’t stop the flow of tears down my face, but I could start walking. We walked and I cried all morning until I heard the news that my mom’s surgery had gone ok and she was spending the night in the hospital. I finally got ahold of my brother and he told me to be strong. The worst was over and all was well. Thank goodness.

That evening we made it to Nanjing. We checked out the first hotel, a grimy place with the bathroom enclosed by glass walls. No thank you. We walked to three more hotels that refused to take a foreigner. After the fourth hotel we were exhausted and it was late. We called Bill and Karen, our Nanjing friends, to rescue us. We weren’t planning on visiting them for a few days, but these were desperate times. They took us out to dinner and set us up in their guest room. I slept for a few hours, then got up to Skype my mom, who was supposed to be released from the hospital that afternoon (our morningtime). She looked like hell. Her face was swollen, eyes and jaw cut and bruised. Her head and ear were wrapped in guaze like a civil war patient. Despite this, she tried to appear chipper. Maybe she was trying to make me feel better. Maybe it was the morphine. We talked and I cried……like a baby. I was so relieved to see that she was alive, and so heartbroken to see her that way.

As I lied curled up on the couch in the fetal position, Bill went off to work and

Ann and Karen went to visit the Zhongshan memorial in the city. I was too exhausted to leave the house. Emotional pain is far more exhausting than physical pain. I spent the day sleeping, talking to people back home, and watching movies. That night we went out to dinner with Bill and Karen. I am so thankful for them. They offered the kindest, most wonderful hospitality during the time I needed it most. I cannot thank them enough.

There are lots of lessons that come from a scare like this one. Love each other every day. Tell your people how much you love them. Don’t worry about the petty shit. Life is short; carpe diem; seize the carp.

This trip is as much about empowerment as it is about love. Even though I feel a million miles away from home this week, I’d like to think that this experience has brought my family closer. Inspired by my mother’s brush with death, I encourage you all to spread some love today. Call someone and say “I love you”. Why are you still reading? Do it now. 

#Nailedit

I love looking at Pinterest fails. There’s something about the contrast of the 

world’s most perfect cupcake next to a colorful mess of goup that just makes me giggle.  Add in that #nailedit hashtag and I literally LOL. Hilarious.

Pinterest fails are the perfect representation of how life goes sometimes. We have high, unrealistic expectations created by ourselves and outside influences of what something ‘should’ look like, and when they aren’t met, we are crushed, ashamed, and embarrassed. When we’re dealing with baked goods, it creates a funny webpost. When we’re dealing with life, dreams, and the pursuit of your heart, there can be more pain involved in failing.Personally, I think Pinterest Fails are mislabeled. I think

they should be called “Delicious Experiments”. So instead of diluting that sweet frosting with your salty tears, let’s break down the fantastic things that happen when you Pinterest Fail.

1)  You get to be inspired. Whether you’re planning a celebration or just bored, searching for a recipe and finding something worthy of your time can be a fun process.

2)  You have a plan. Are you a list-maker? I hate lists, but there is something fantastic about checking things off of one. Blue frosting, got it.

3)  You get to learn. Okay, so next time maybe wait until the cupcake cools before trying to pile three inches of frosting on top.

4)  You get to laugh. It’s never going to be perfect. But you know what it will be? Delicious. If you can laugh at yourself, you can taste the sweetness of life.

I know, I know. Make your point, Darrah.

This trip is by no means a failure AND it has many characteristics and dynamics of a Pinterest fail. Let me explain.

Like the amateurs trying to make competition-grade cupcakes with a butter knife and a Ziploc bag full of frosting, Ann and I started this walk with very little experience. I have done hikes in the wilderness before, but Ann had NEVER walked more than a few kilometers at a time in her life. Before moving to Zhongshan, I had never left America before. I had no idea how to navigate a foreign country. When inspiration hit, we collected our butter knives, filled our Ziploc bags with frosting, and started

making plans.

Since that first strike of inspiration, we have learned SO MUCH. Like, I CAN SPEAK CHINESE (well, not a ton, but I can order myself a beer, sooooo…). Ann can navigate Baidu Maps like a boss. And now we are covering over 100 kilometers every 4 days. In the beginning, we could walk about 13 kilometers before one of us would ‘tap out’ from the pain and blisters and we’d have to catch a bus to the nearest hotel. Now, we can do double that distance without a problem.

That being said, not everything about this trip has

been perfect. The vision has been adapted to the limitations we chose to accept (budget, time, pain tolerance, etc). People have criticized us for this- some are constructive and some are just downright mean. Not everything looks like it’s ‘supposed to’ on this journey. Ann’s mother-in-law wasn’t ‘supposed to’ pass away in March. My mom wasn’t ‘supposed to’ be in a bus crash back home, and I wasn’t ‘supposed to’ feel this homesick with 5 weeks left of the journey. None of that was part of the plan. But there are many amazing unplanned things that have happened, too. Playing tennis with HongChang was spontaneous, as was spreading our passion to hundreds of children and adults through various speeches we were invited to give. I am learning that diversions from the original plan can lead to amazingness if you can open your mind and release your expectations with grace.

So, the point is this: sometimes the pursuit of dreams is messy. Whether the dream is to make a beautiful cupcake or walk across a country, let’s let go of control and watch the vision transform into something beautiful and delicious.  

Below is a blurb I wrote last week. It’s addressed to the people who aren’t on board with our vision. (and if I’m being really honest, it’s also addressed to the neurotic, critical voice in my head) I know I’m preaching to the choir by posting it here, but it has been swimming around my brain, begging to be written. It turned out to be a pretty cool piece. Also, I’d like to say that even though we have received some hate, we also have received a TON of love and support. Thank you all so much for following us and believing in us. It gives us power. Love yall.

To the critics who say we’ve fallen short….that we did it wrong….that we’ve offered too little…

I tried to walk a mile in your shoes, but I don’t think they fit right. They seemed to be too narrow. I think maybe your feet and your mind have that in common. But maybe I’m wrong.

The criticism that spills from your mouth and fingers makes me think that maybe someone hurt you. Who was it that said you aren’t enough? What did you once hold, pure and true, that was stripped away by “reality”? I think maybe someone told you that your dream was impossible. And I think maybe you listened. But maybe I’m wrong.

Your harsh words fall like daggers. My reaction is to scream, to fight, and to destroy your skepticism with logic and heart. But I won’t because this journey is bigger than our opinions. I’ll save my energy to walk this path and dedicate every step to anyone who has ever been told the words “you can’t”.

Yes, it’s all for them. This isn’t for you. But maybe I’m wrong. 

OMG......ew.

“Buhao he” ‘That won’t be a good drink’ was the response to my order at the coffee shop in the little town we left this morning. I was going to have to convince the two young people behind the counter to make me a coffee with coconut milk and no sugar. When I explained what I wanted, they went into a tailspin because my order wasn’t on the menu. I love the people of China. They are a skilled and diligent people, but not altogether creative or imaginative.

I don’t need your opinion, homegirl. I need coffee.

“It’s ok. I like it. I want it.” is the only counterargument I had the capability of saying in Chinese. Thankfully, I don’t know enough Chinese to be a bitch. I walked out of the shop with my coffee of choice and tried to remember which restaurant Annimal was eating in. They all looked the same to me. Outside of the coffee shop, a woman was waiting for her toddler to finish business on the sidewalk. The woman watched and waited as the child made a puddle of pee in the middle of the path where people walk. Why? I thought as I leapt into the street, trying not to spill my coffee. I located Annimal’s bright green trailer outside of a shop and went in to sit with her while she finished breakfast. It was the kind of morning where I couldn’t stomach Chinese food. I’ve eaten so much of the same food that sometimes my body just says, “Nope. Not doing it. Not hungry. Feed me that and see what happens”. Because I wasn’t eating, Annimal chose a meat shop. Each table was full of people eating slabs of god knows what kind of meat with bones sticking out every which way. I made the mistake of peering over to an adjacent table where a man had broken a bone in half and was using a straw to loudly suck the marrow out of it. I stared down at my coffee cup and talked myself out of puking. We left the restaurant and started walking out of the city. Lining the each sidewalk in the town was a forest of streetlights. This town is the main streetlight manufacturer in China. We walked slowly, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the beautiful lights, choosing our favorites, and

identifying towns where we’ve seen the different light poles before. A man walking on the sidewalk in front of us hocked a loogie and spit it directly in the path I was walking on. I sidestepped to avoid it, suddenly realizing that the sidewalk was dotted with balls of saliva and mucus from dozens of people who had done the same as he just did. Judging from the sidewalk, everyone in China has a raging sinus infection. Gross. I drank most of my coffee and opened the lid to drink the last bit. There, at the bottom of my cup was a little black bug. Gross. China is not sitting well with me today.

Something about today made we queasy. It started with the bones and bugs. Then it was multiple dead birds on the side of the road. I watched my step carefully because there were a few times today that I almost stepped on a bloody, fleshy pile of feathers. Ugh. We stopped at a gas station after a long stretch with no bathrooms. I rushed to the ladies room after drinking my bug coffee and about a gallon of water. The bathroom had no toilets, but a trough to squat over. It was already full of feces and urine. My stomach churned again and I talked myself out of puking…again. Not ten minutes before we arrived at the gas station, we walked by a ravine that was exuding a terrible smell. It was the smell of death. My ill-advised reaction was to look to where the smell was coming from. I wish I hadn’t. A few feet off the road was a pig carcass. Its head was intact, its stomach was bloated, and its hind section was rotting away, partially consumed by maggots. Ew. I could throw up right now just writing about it.

I love China. It is beautiful and mysterious, but not altogether sanitary. 

Suzhou

Suzhou was amazing. Once we got into the city, we became a bit lost on our way to Pam’s (our host’s) house, so we stopped at the local Starbucks and waited for her to come find us. While we sipped iced coffee to cool off, we met a few fans. We had posted about our trip in the Suzhou Expats group on Facebook, and two young men recognized us. They asked us about our trip and took a picture with us. I immediately liked Suzhou. Not five minutes later, Alex, another faithful Facebook follower found us. Alex is a German transplant who calls Suzhou home after being there for 15 years. Months

ago, he promised us ice cream via Facebook. He made good on his promise. Alex showed up at Starbucks with a 5-gallon carton of strawberry ice cream that he had just purchased from Metro. We sat on the patio eating ice cream with chopsticks while we listened to Alex compliment our endurance and tell his own stories of past accomplishments. He is an outdoorsman, himself. Not long ago, he finished his first 100 km race in Hong Kong. He encouraged us to

keep going, reminding us that, at this point, it’s all mental. That’s the truth. It was so great to talk to him because he understands the strange frustrations we have faced on the road, as he’s experienced them, too. He empathized with my blog post on my frustration with the truck drivers honking their horns and I told him about the backlash I received, that I was too harsh.

“I think you didn’t use the eff word enough! I usually just throw my middle fingers in the air and scream at them! They’re so terrible!!!” he exclaimed. I like Alex. In the midst of our conversation, Pam showed up. We said farewell to Alex and followed Pamela back to the apartment where she lives with her husband, Ernie, and their foster daughter who is almost 2 years old and absolutely adorable. It was the most beautiful apartment we’ve seen on

this trip. I couldn’t help but think back to the hostel where the rats ate my apple during week 1 and laugh at the difference. Staying with them was a gift, not just because our bed had a pillow top mattress pad (most Chinese beds are about as soft as plywood) but also because they are a joy of a family to be around. They moved to China from Fort Collins, Colorado. I spent a week in Fort Collins with my brother before leaving for China, so we had a lot to talk about.

“Did yall ever go to William Oliver’s? We had some great nights there. What about The Blind Pig? I’ve been craving a real Bloody Mary with Horsetooth hot sauce!” After settling in, we went out with Pam to meet Eleanor for dinner. Eleanor is another Facebook follower who generously offered to supply us with granola bars and pollution masks. She invited us out to the venue where her husband and his band mate were playing that night- The Bookworm. We had a lovely evening there. Eleanor’s husband even invited us up on stage to talk about The Walk during a set break. I was nervous to speak to the bar full of foreigners. We were completely unprepared, but managed to get the point across. Most of the people were extremely kind and supportive of our project. It was a beautiful evening.

We had a wonderful time with Pam and her family. Their house was chock-full of items I haven’t seen since I left America almost a year ago: Smucker’s jelly, Old El Paso salsa, Colorado Coffee, and yummy cheese. We took a rest day to check out the old part of the city, where the famous gardens are.

The gardens were beautiful and I drew some money out of my personal account to buy two QiPaos (Chinese style dresses) from a local shop. That night we had a happy hour with Pam and Ernie on their beautiful balcony. It felt so good to be in the company of like-minded Americans. There’s something about spending time with people of similar roots that just feels so good; especially in a place so very far from anything that resembles a comfort zone. Later that evening, we met up with two of Pam and Ernie’s friends at a Mexican restaurant where they offered to treat us to dinner. Yes, I said A MEXICAN RESTAURANT. I was so excited. Their friends were also from Colorado- from Leadville. I was so excited to be around Americans at a Mexican restaurant that the flow of margaritas carried me away. It was a fantastic night followed by a terrible morning. It was my second time walking with a hangover and my second time hating myself for it. Someday I’ll be smarter. Just....just not today. 

Hangzhou

On the day that we played tennis with Hongchang, we also met local volunteers from a suburb of Hangzhou. They were so kind. They put us up in a nice hotel and took us to dinner at a beautiful vegetarian hotpot 

restaurant. That was the best meal I’ve ever eaten in China. After dinner we were scheduled to speak in front of students and local volunteers at the library. We arrived early and talked with the students while the leaders hooked up their new projector to show our videos. Our presentation went great. It was the first time we have spoken in public about our project, and we were excited to share our story. We introduced ourselves, played videos, told our story, and answered questions from the crowd at the end. Annimal translated for me when I spoke since nobody spoke English. It was a great night with very supportive people.  

Getting to Hangzhou seemed to take an eternity. It was such a beautiful portion of the walk, though. The rivers and mountains calmed my anxiety. When we finally got to the outskirts of the

city, I was ecstatic. Armaan and Sarah had found us through Facebook and offered to host us. They are wonderful people who have an adorable little boy who loves to tell stories and show off his writing skills. That night Sarah prepared us a traditional Indian dinner that was absolutely delicious- a welcome change from steamed egg and vegetable soup. I’m pretty sure I talked their ears off, as they were the first English-speakers we’d met in almost two months. The next day we packed up early to go to the school where Armaan teaches and where we were scheduled to speak. We spent the day giving 6 presentations to over 100 students (in English this time!). Some of the students were reluctant to interact or ask questions, but others were very

outgoing. The most vocal class was a group of upperclassmen that all plan to attend school in America next year. It was great to share insight with them about living in a foreign country. I secretly hoped that they will have an easier time acclimating to America than I have to China. At the end of the school day we said goodbye to Armaan and walked toward the city to meet our next host, Angie. Angie and her husband also have an adorable little boy. They live in a beautiful apartment in the heart of Hangzhou. We walked all day and arrived to their apartment late in the afternoon. Angie let us settle in, and then we went out for dinner to meet Tim, whom Armaan connected us to. Tim is a vibrant and kind man who frequents many social groups in HZ. He introduced us to many people that night, including the host for bar trivia at The

Vineyard, Brent, from Colorado. Brent announced the news about our trip and sent an ice bucket around the bar which was full of mostly foreigners to collect donations. After trivia Brent handed me an ice bucket full of money for our charitey- over 1200 RMB in total. Between beer, bar trivia, and great conversation, it was exactly the kind of evening I had hoped for.

The next day I woke up late and we had lunch with Angie and her husband and son. After lunch we went to West Lake- a lake in Hangzhou, famous for its beauty. Ann and I were too tired to walk around, so we sat and drank coffee and enjoyed the lake from Starbucks. Ann thought this was a shame, but I thought it was a lovely afternoon. That night Annimal and I split. She went to meet Chinese volunteers from Hangzhou, while I had committed to speak at Cracking China, a club of mostly foreigners who gather each week for community and ideas to get out and explore the world around them. One of their founders, Alex, heard about our project and invited me to speak about it at their meeting. I could tell it was going to be a great night when the first person I was introduced to was from Albuquerque, New Mexico.

“HOW much do you miss green chile?!” were his first words to me. Typical New Mexican. I immediately felt at home. The room filled with people as I prepared my presentation. I was nervous, groping for information from every psychology article I’ve ever read about succeeding at public speaking. I had just spent a whole day talking to students, but this was different. These were my peers. My nerves wore off as I began talking. Telling our story

reminded me how amazing it is to be able to share passion with other people. The group’s kind faces and attentive smiles helped me relax and give a solid presentation that I was proud of. When I finished speaking, I answered a few great questions from the audience. Then I sat down to watch the next presenter. As I was listening, Jonny, a friendly Englishman, squatted down next to me and asked if I’d like to join them for pizza and beer after the meeting. He didn’t even finish the question before I whole-heartedly agreed. A small group of us went to The Vineyard (again. I was in town for two days and managed to become a regular) after the meeting and had great conversation over Western food. Jonny from England and Alice from France were very encouraging, asking questions about the logistics of the trip and expressing their awe of our willingness to say yes to such an adventure. We had a lovely night. Most of all, it simply felt good to be among friends. 

Game Changer

Having my tennis racquets with me is a game-changer. The first time I played tennis with a child on this trip was before I even had my racquets. I only had a quickstart ball and we used badminton racquets to play ball in their driveway. We bent the racquets, but we had a lot of fun. Now that I have my Prince Shark and a cheap-o made-in-China kiddie racquet, I can really play. They were brought up last week by a few volunteers who came up from Zhongshan to bring us supplies. Getting care packages is so refreshing- a boost for our bodies and minds. In my bag of goodies was another pair of shorts, Burt’s Bees lip balm, Dr. Bronner’s soap, vegan protein powder, Kind Bars from America, my sticks (racquets) and a few Quickstart balls. Now I am always looking for kids to play tennis with. The day after our supplies arrived, we said goodbye to the volunteers who came to visit us and set off for what we knew would be a long stint to the next big city called Hangzhou. That afternoon we stopped for lunch at a noodle shop. There were a few children running around playing with toy swords. They

stopped in their tracks when they saw me, and asked about the racquets on my bag.

“Ni yao da wangqiu ma?” I asked.  Do you want to play tennis?

One of the boys shook his head yes. As Ann and I waited for our food to come, the kid and I played. I showed the kid how to use the racquet and made a few gentle corrections. People in the shop came out to take pictures. People heading to the market stopped to watch us. His friends cheered him on, “Jai You! Jai you!” Before long, he was hitting volleys, sliding into forehands, and closing in on me. It was so much fun.

With my sticks in tow, this trip has a renewed sense of purpose for me. For years, I have loved the idea of putting a tennis racquet into the hands of someone who has never played before- someone who might otherwise never be exposed to the great game. Can you imagine being a child in a village in

rural China, seeing a foreigner for the first time in your life and playing tennis with her? Neither can I. But it’s an amazing experience from every angle. I love this game and I love spreading my passion for it because it has the potential to change lives. I know this because I’ve lived it. The game of tennis has connected me to important and influential people. It has taken me places and given me a sense of community once I got there. It supported me through college and beyond. Tennis is what brought me to China in the first place. I owe a lot to the game, and I’m excited to share this amazing sport with the people we meet along the way.

One of these people is named HongChang. We saw him and his family while we were walking across a bridge on the outskirts of Hangzhou. We doubled back to meet them because HongChang had a very apparent disability and we wanted to know their story. He is in an electric wheelchair because he has a disease that makes his muscles degenerate rapidly. He was very weak,

struggling even to push the joystick that makes his wheelchair move. He and his family live in their shack that also serves as their family’s truck mechanic business. We brought them some fruit and stopped to talk with them. Sitting around a small table in a cold concrete building were two men, a woman, a small child, and the boy in the wheelchair. At first they did not want to let us in. They were nervous about the two women who were at their door, surely questioning our intentions. They had never seen a foreigner before. Ann shared with them our cause and told them about our journey. They warmed up and invited us to sit down. We gave them the fruit and asked about their son. A little girl danced around the mother’s feet, grabbing the unwashed grapes out of the bag and eating them. They shared with us that HongChang had a brother who died at the age of 16 from the same disease. HongChang is 15. They receive very little support from the

government and they were fined 45,000 RMB for adopting their little girl. They adopted her so they would have a child to outlive them and take care of them when they become old. They talked openly about the fact that HongChang will die soon. I thought back to my experience with Special Olympics in the States. I have worked with athletes with a more severe disability than HongChang has. I’ve never played tennis with such a person, but I was confident that I could show HongChang a great time with a racquet. I asked Ann to ask him if he would like to play. He said yes. We went outside to the dirt lot where people were working on truck engines. HongChang had just enough strength to grip the kiddie racquet in his little hand. Ann filmed as I walked him through a few basic ball-handling skills. With little assistance, he balanced the ball on the racquet, rolled it around the rim, and bounced it up and down. I repositioned the racquet upright in his hand and tossed the ball for him to hit volleys. He did a fantastic job following instruction, and it was obvious that he was using all of his will and might to hold the racquet. His mother held his baby sister as she watched, absolutely beaming with happiness and pride. Annimal and I wondered when they last felt so much joy, and whether or not they will ever feel it again. Annimal talked to HongChang’s mother as I continued to play with him and his little sister, who was also taking to the sport (even though my racquet is bigger than she

is). We spent about an hour playing and talking with them before we had to keep walking. It was one of the best hours of the trip…of my life. I left HongChang with one of the three quickstart balls I have with me so he can practice squeezing it to try to keep his limited muscle strength. I walked away trying to block out thought that HongChang is late in the fifth set of his unfortunate lifespan. As we walked away, I rode the wave of overwhelming positivity from the hour we were able to spend with him. He could barely hold a racquet, yet he’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. The smile on his face is forever imprinted in my mind and for that I am so thankful.