WU WEI
Wu Wei, the art of inexertion
I’ve always been drawn to individual sports such as Endless Summer-esque surfing with its freedom vibe, expressive dance as performed by my idol Isadora Duncan, or spontaneous forms of movement for pleasure. I never warmed to Leni Riefenstahl’s Olympia, Vatican fêtes, the Moonie’s mass weddings, or the North Korean Arirang Games. While I always enjoyed running in solitude, during the isolating period of social distancing, I've come to appreciate group dynamics—a late adopter.
For the last 14 weeks, I’ve participated in the vigorous marathon training program with the fantastic Adidas Runners NYC coaches and embraced the benefits of the joint drill. Every Thursday at the crack of dawn, I biked to the 400-meter tracks at Brooklyn's McCarren Park and up close and personal with fellow disciples of the Speed Squad.
Initially, there were ten people in our pace group. We circled the tracks in progressive interval workouts at varying effort, distance, or time. For the first few sessions, I found it almost impossible to keep up with the pace of my group—strangers, all of them—with only short breaks for heart rate recovery between intervals. We became each other’s pacers, and after a few weeks, a peculiar synchronicity set in. Despite anatomical differences, we began moving in tight packs and fell in lockstep like a pack of huskies pulling an invisible sled.
Sharing intimate space, we began to put names to our sweaty faces. Over the summer, people kept dropping off, and our gang shrunk further when some participated in races like Chicago or Berlin, slated earlier in the marathon calendar. Rain or shine, I showed up on the red tartan. Only half-surprised, I knew there was a masochist buried in my hedonist soul.
By October, there were only three of us left, and I was the only one training for the New York Marathon. S, a young coder from Iran, was doing this for fun, and G, born to Chinese Immigrants in the US. Both S and G planned to race in 2023. Sandwiched between them, S pulled me along while G pushed from behind, leaving me no choice but to keep up the pace. Our shared energy propelled us forward. After each completed interval, we exchanged fist bumps and words of motivation. Initially, I was embarrassed by these gestures, but in these concerns evaporated with each drop of sweat.
Recently, I experimented with pranayama breathing, the Taj Mahal of oxygenation. After a one-mile speed test, G bent over, gasping for air. "You’re on fire today. How fast were we?” A glance at my Garmin showed that we had improved by over a minute per mile in just two months. Touched, I thanked them for turning me into a better runner.
“You are my motivation,” exclaimed G. I wished they’d run with me on November 6th, I said. "Maybe next year,” S said. “I have nightmares about you chasing me across the sports field!” We all talked over each other about who was responsible for our achievement.
“We practice collective Wu Wei!” G finally said. Wu what? “Wu Wei is a concept of Chinese philosophy, Confucianism. It means effortless action." S’s eyes darted between G and me. “You call that effortless?” G blushed. “Well, breathing comes naturally, and our cadence aligns when we inhale and exhale simultaneously.” She drew a circle in the air between us. “This synchronicity with others accumulates energy and distributes empathy. In community, the effort is experienced as rather easy.” S shook his head and then nodded. “I agree,” he said. ”You’re weird. Both of you.”
October 2022
