Walking 100,000 Steps Across Chengdu (Part 2)

The original plan after coffee had been to stop at a smoothie shop, where another group of walkers planned to join us. But after spending hours walking through cold rain, nobody seemed especially enthusiastic about consuming an ice-cold drink. Democracy prevailed, and we collectively decided to reroute around a nearby lake instead.

Unfortunately, unbeknownst to me, several teams had already gathered at the smoothie shop waiting for us. Thankfully, modern technology came to the rescue. Brian updated everyone through WeChat and told them to simply follow our live location and catch up along the route.

This unexpectedly became one of my favorite aspects of the challenge. Instead of everyone gathering in one giant overwhelming group, the day unfolded like a relay of companionship. People joined for an hour, a few kilometers, or half a day. New faces appeared at different points, each one bringing a fresh burst of energy just when you needed it most.

By around 10:00 a.m., several more walkers had merged into our wandering caravan, including my colleague Mrs. Bonnie and her daughter. During one stretch, I discovered that my former student Harry Chen, who was completing the challenge all the way in New York City, had actually had Mrs. Bonnie as an English teacher after leaving my previous school. It was one of those funny little moments where the world suddenly feels much smaller than you realize.

 

 

At this point, the step counts had become a frequent source of fascination.

After looping around the lake, I sat somewhere around 38,000 steps. Brian was in the mid-30,000s. Lionel? 49,000.

At six years old, he was quietly embarrassing all of us.

The excitement around his numbers had become contagious. Every person who joined wanted an update, and Lionel was more than happy to provide one. It was beginning to feel less like we were pacing ourselves for survival and more like we were collectively witnessing a tiny endurance machine in action.

From the lake, our next destination was Wuhou Temple, about seven kilometers away, where more walkers planned to join us. For the first few kilometers, things seemed fine. Then Lionel slowed. At first, it was subtle. A slightly shorter stride. A little less bounce. Longer pauses between words. But after nearly 55,000 steps his feet had finally decided to stage a rebellion.

Now, Lionel is a remarkably tough kid, which meant I knew things were serious. In my head, I had planned the route perfectly. I thought he would comfortably make it to Abu’s bike shop before needing the stroller. What I had disastrously failed to account for was one important detail: Lionel takes roughly three steps for every two of mine.

In essence, he had been working significantly harder than the adults the entire time. I told him I would carry him for five minutes and then let him try walking again. He nodded. I picked him up and cursed at how heavy had become from doing morning workouts with our Iranian P.E. at school, Mr. Yaas.

Five minutes later, I carefully set him back down. He took one step, paused, and then looked up at me. “Sorry Daddy,” he said quietly. “I can’t do it.” And that was that.

At this point, Xiao Hong, who planned to meet us later at Abu’s bike shop, became the emergency rescue team. I called her and rerouted the pickup location to Wuhou Temple. Meanwhile, I recruited help from the walking group to carry my backpack while I carried Lionel. For the next 6,000 steps, I alternated between carrying him piggyback style and wrapped around my stomach like an oversized koala.

This part of the walk was distinctly uncomfortable, but it certainly helped me stop thinking about the discomfort in my feet by full focusing on the numbness in my hands and arms.

Fortunately, I happened to be walking beside Jerry Kim, who had the Minnesota Timberwolves playoff game streaming on his phone. Now, I should admit something important here, I am an irrationally superstitious sports fan. And somehow, in my exhausted state, I became convinced that the Timberwolves only began playing well because I was carrying Lionel. Every successful basket felt connected to my suffering. The harder I struggled, the better Minnesota played. Was there evidence to support this theory? Well the Nuggets only scored one basket in the final 8 minutes of the game.

Most importantly, focusing on the game helped distract me from the reality that I had already walked over 50,000 steps while carrying approximately sixty extra pounds.

By the time we reached Wuhou Temple, the game ended and waiting there was one of Lionel’s best friends from second grade. Lionel’s spirits immediately lifted. After snapping a group photo in front of the temple, we carefully loaded Lionel into Kimi’s mom’s car so they could drive the remaining distance to Abu’s bike shop.

And I’m not going to lie, for the next few thousand steps, I felt gloriously liberated.

After carrying Lionel for so long, walking alone suddenly felt strangely effortless, the same way Atlas must have felt after handing the weight of the world off to Hercules. I practically floated toward our next stop, The People’s Park.

Or at least as much as someone nearing 60,000 steps can float. When we finally reached Abu’s bike shop, it felt less like a checkpoint and more like an oasis. Abu had generously offered to sponsor the event, but I wasn’t fully prepared for what that meant.

The counter looked like a convenience store.

Drinks, Bananas, Crackers, Snickers, Electrolytes.

More snacks than any reasonable group of walkers could consume.

And inside, something even better was happening. Families from the Chengdu low-vision community had gathered alongside walkers and supporters. One friend from my disc golf group had even arranged for his wife to sell baked goods, with 100% of proceeds going toward supporting the low-vision community. Thank you Fiona!

There was something deeply meaningful about seeing people from completely different parts of my life gathered in one space. Teachers, parents, friends, former students, families navigating low vision, athletes, random brave souls who voluntarily signed up to walk unreasonable distances. Everyone had somehow converged here because of one simple idea:

Visibility matters.

Abu, being Abu, had also ordered enormous bowls of dumplings for everyone. At this point, sitting down felt like a dangerous life decision, so I walked while eating, terrified that if I stopped moving, my body might permanently refuse to restart. Still, changing into fresh clothes and swapping shoes felt miraculous. It is difficult to overstate the emotional power of dry socks after 60,000 wet steps.

After some photos, a quick interview, snacks, and an overly optimistic temporary tattoo that somehow remained visible for the next three weeks, it was time to leave.

The city portion of the challenge was ending. Ahead lay something much less charming,

the long industrial march back to Pidu. And unfortunately for my legs… we were only about 60% of the way done.