It is 11:15pm and along with 15,000 fellow runners I’m waiting for the start of the Sundown Marathon. I’m not feeling the same buzz I normally get at the start of a race; I’m just waiting as I’ve been waiting all day. The problem with a midnight race is you can’t spend the day sightseeing and expect to be able to run. Especially when the race takes place 85 miles from the equator. I’m not sure if the relatively boring day led to my calm at the start line or it was a factor of the race starting so late. Like last year, I was alone because Yang could not make the trip. ...

He is in Singapore sitting in one of those uncomfortable Starbucks wooden chairs and flipping through the Straight Times. The Straight Times is thick, like a Sunday Paper, even on weekdays. It has sections for News, Money, and Life. In the Life section he finds an article by a Times reporter who tried six different things to help her relax. The one he focuses on is mediation as it is something he’s thought about trying over the years and now with things the way they are he really needs something. Anything. He skims the paragraphs on meditation without absorbing the content and then his mind is onto the yoga relaxation approach. He snaps out of it and rereads the mediation section again and makes note of the two free apps the reporter mentions, Headspace and Calm. ...

I am in Lido Park with Elisa when she says she says “babi, I want to pee pee” which isn’t great news since I suspect wherever in this park the restroom is, it won’t be clean. This doesn’t bother Elisa at all; she just wants to go on the grass behind the trail that circles the lake. I ask her if she can wait and she says no. Then I notice her “boyfriend” mao zaheng is being led by his ayi to the area Elisa wants to pee. The boyfriend drops his pants, squats, and takes a dump. I now know why Elisa wants to pee. It is a sympathetic pee. I ask her to wait and she agrees. I mean, Yang and I have been married for almost 12 years and I don’t think she ever wanted to pee when I took a dump. At least not with me. ...

It is maybe 1992 and I am sitting along the back wall of a conference room when my manger asks me to describe the work I did on some project. She is asking me because her boss’s boss, our General Manager, is in the room to check in with the team. I am immediately nervous, heart racing. I am not nervous because I’m about to speak to someone important but because of all the people in the room. All the people paying attention to me. A reaction of fear. I start to introduce myself and then to describe my project. My mind goes to someplace where there are no words. I cannot formulate a sentence. I string words together but not in a way that has any meaning. One set of words are not connected to the next set. I am staring at my lap. I glance up and catch a knowing and partially sympathetic look from an older coworker. Mostly knowing. I glance back down and mumble my words until I am done. The situation, which was orchestrated to give me visibility and a sense of recognition has left me shattered. ...

I wake up and my mouth is dry and it takes me a moment to realize where I am. I am in a hotel, sleeping in a twin bed. Sleeping alone although not alone in the room. I get up and pee and brush my teeth. I slip on my running shorts, shoes, and brush deodorant on under my night shirt. Out the door of the hotel room I go. I walk on the side of the lobby the furthest from the reception desk since technically I am an uninvited guest. I am out into the morning sun as I force my legs to start a slight jog. The air is brisk with a hint of warmth. ...

I am communicating with Yang via Weixin (WeChat app in English) because this is how adults in China communicate when not in the same room. Even sometimes when in the same room. Yang tells me that she needs to go to Guangzhou over the weekend for work but that she will be back before I go to Singapore for my half marathon. I tell her fine, but that’s a long time to be in Guangzhou. She says only a few days. I say I leave for the marathon on May 30, no April 30. Oh, she says. Weixin, or no Weixin, there are communication gaps. ...

I have the afternoon free so I pick up Aidan and Lydia from school. Their school is very close to the apartment we lived in when we first got to Beijing in 2005. In some ways those days were simpler before what was unknown became known and then unknown again. Our apartment, which we call Chaowaimen after the name of the building, was changing tenants so I brought Lydia and Aidan by for a visit. ...

I am sitting in Starbucks noticing my hands are shaking. I wonder when that started. I wonder why that started. My mind flies back in time. Back to the last time I laughed. I mean an actual uncontrolled laugh. Not a controlled, “I can see how that could be funny” laugh. It was 14 years ago. I was in a u-haul truck with my brother moving from my first life to my purgatory life. My other friend was at my soon to be old home waiting for me. He needed to use the restroom but could not get in until we got there and we were a good 10 minutes away. I could just see him hop side to side waiting for us trying to defer the urgency so that it didn’t become an urgent situation. And I lost it. Just busted up without a hint of control. For a second anyway. ...

Yang and I are with the kids in downtown Seoul wondering where our hotel is. The only thing we are sure of is we don’t know where it is. I am wondering around the corner like a bird with a clipped wing looking for a wifi signal while simultaneously yelling at Elisa not to play with the traffic. Eventually I give up and go into the cramped coffee shop, order an Americano, and slurp wifi. ...

In is 8:30am on Sunday morning I am sitting in Starbucks having my venti coffee and reading the Chronicle on my tablet. I see Yang’s mom walking towards me on her way into our apartment complex. I think for a moment about whether I should call out to her our just make eye contact which is my normal social outreach. She notices me and walks over. She asks me if I’m cooking today and I say yes, I will make something for St. Patrick’s Day. She then asks me if I think the kids will like “your food” as she calls it. It is a rhetorical question. Before I can answer, she states that she will make some Chinese food for dinner as well. ...