Today I ran for Japan

Today I ran for Japan. And in my run I thought of Xun Li, of all the anonymous Xun Lis of Japan whose future was swept away a few days ago. I am sad, shocked, and angry. I ran and I thought of Masaru and Kenta and Yuichiro and Moto and Keisuke and Shin and Ryoji and Koji and Kei and Luca, I thought about fate, I thought of Haruki and his quake and about what sense he may be making out of this mess, I thought of Okuribito and the tears I shed from beginning to end, I thought about death, and about harmony, the single word that describes Japan best, the word M once found for me, I thought about shattered landscapes, attitudes, and lives, shattered harmony, I was transported to a warm, sweet place by the sounds of Alone in Kyoto and imagined Simon finding an abandoned harmonium in the streets of the former capital, I thought about our shabby little ryokan in Nara, the one M kept on pestering me about the minute she set eyes on the room, in a friendly way, of course, in that characteristic, teasing style she has.

I kept on running and I thought of the strong bond I have with this country and these people, a feeling I can't really quite explain.

"Xun Li had spent most of her adult life pushing a trolley full of food and drink up and down the aisles of nearly every bullet train in Japan, ever since the very first one reduced the distance from Tokyo to Kyoto to about three hours. Japanese Railways were nowadays proud to present their Shinkansen products as the perfect example of what an ambitious Japan should be like. Ambitious Japan, that was indeed the running slogan of the company. Xun Li, however, knew no ambitions."