April 7, 2019. Our main task today was to take part in the 30th Pyongyang International Marathon, now in its sixth year of admitting international amateur runners. As our bus approached the stadium, the crowds grew noticeably thicker. Pyongyang residents streamed in from every corner of the city, carrying golden ice-cream-cone-shaped props. From time to time, we also saw people marching in organized formations. From that moment on, my wife—the boss—suddenly found her English vocabulary reduced to three words: “Oh my God!”
One of the great highlights of running the Pyongyang Marathon is the opening parade before nearly 100,000 cheering spectators—and then returning to finish before the same crowd. In that atmosphere, there was no need to warm up; the blood had already rushed to my head. I told Tim that even if the trip ended as soon as we finished the race, I would have no regrets.
© Richard HuangSo that was what the golden ice-cream cones were for. Besides waving them neatly in unison, the crowd could use them to create great golden waves.
© Richard HuangWith a sea of 100,000 spectators as a backdrop, how could I not hurry up and take a few more photos? I owed it to the crowd—and to myself.
© Richard HuangThe last time we had taken part in anything like this was eleven years earlier, in Beijing. Given the long journey and all the unknowns, we dared sign up only for the 10K, which was about the limit of our abilities anyway.
© Richard HuangAnd we’re off…
© Richard HuangThe second highlight of running a marathon in Pyongyang is getting your fill of the city’s landmarks. No sooner had we left the stadium than we passed the Arch of Triumph, which we had visited the day before.
© Richard HuangPast all sorts of buildings, some famous and some unknown…
© Richard HuangPast monuments of every kind…
© Richard HuangThis is the Sino-Korean Friendship Tower, with the television tower behind it.
© Richard HuangThe third highlight of running a marathon in Pyongyang is the chance to come into close contact with local residents. Foreign tourists can usually observe them only from a distance, through the windows of a tour bus. Now that barrier was gone—and so were the watchful eyes of our two guides. How could I pass up this rare opportunity to photograph to my heart’s content? My finishing time no longer mattered. I would simply run and shoot as I went…
© Richard HuangBicycles are one of the main ways people get around in North Korea, though I did not see anything resembling a bike-share scheme.
© Richard HuangOne thing worth noting is that many streets in North Korea have dedicated cycle lanes, most of them incorporated into the pavement. In Canada, by contrast, cycle lanes are usually marked on the roadway, offering cyclists somewhat less protection. Pyongyang’s urban planners deserve a thumbs-up for this. The bespectacled gentleman here, however, appears to be breaking the cycling rules.
© Richard HuangThere were far more pedestrians out than we had seen the day before. They gathered along both sides of the course to enjoy the spectacle and cheer on the runners. These three North Korean aunties were saying, “What a handsome runner! I wonder if he has a girlfriend?”
© Richard HuangThe North Korean uncles said, “Don’t think the aunties are the only ones who can gossip. When we get chatting, we do it with gusto—and style.”
© Richard HuangBesides watching the excitement and chatting among themselves, residents exchanged high-fives with the runners, joining in the event through these brief encounters.
© Richard HuangAfter high-fiving me, this gentleman noticed that my camera was pointed at him, and a trace of shyness crossed his face.
© Richard HuangNaturally, the children were happiest of all to be out having fun.
© Richard HuangIf I had to describe the general demeanour of North Koreans, the words that most readily came to mind would be numb, tense and weary. Perhaps this stemmed from pressure at work, economic hardship or, more likely, restrictions on thought. The children, however, were noticeably different. Free of such worries and constraints, their faces still held innocence and joy.
© Richard HuangBefore I knew it, runners on the far side of the boulevard had already rounded the turning point and were heading back. They were the professionals, identifiable by their bib numbers: anyone below 1000 was an elite athlete; the rest of us were amateurs. They were professionals—there was no point trying to compete with them…
© Richard HuangWait—the runner on the other side of the boulevard looked familiar. It was the boss herself, already on her way back. She was the boss—there was no point trying to compete with her either… It was getting late, so I put away my little camera and concentrated on running 🏃🏃🏃…
© Richard HuangOn and on I ran, until at last the Arch of Triumph came into view. Triumph really was at hand. By now, the boss must have crossed the finish line long ago. With no companion beside me, I was wondering how to take a photo of myself with the arch when a young woman behind me offered to help. Could I really be so lucky? Sure enough, after taking my photo, she asked me to take one of her. That little exchange cost me quite a bit more time.
© Richard HuangBeyond the Arch of Triumph, I entered the stadium and completed a lap before nearly 100,000 cheering spectators. At last, I had finished.
© Richard HuangAfter the race, we received certificates and commemorative medals. The boss did rather well, finishing 12th. As for me… the less said, the better 😜. Still, considering that I never stopped taking photos, I managed a “personal best,” which was respectable enough.
© Richard HuangAfter the race, several groups travelling with the same tour company gathered for a commemorative photo. We then celebrated over a meal in our hotel’s revolving restaurant, visited Kim Il Sung’s birthplace at Mangyongdae and browsed a supermarket. Dinner that evening came with singing and dancing, after which we all went our separate ways. The twelve members of our tour came from nine different countries and regions. Because our itineraries varied in length and other details, we were divided into smaller groups. Every traveller had a distinct personality and an interesting story, but space does not permit me to tell them all.
Today’s marathon was unforgettable. The strength and encouragement we received from the tens of thousands of spectators inside the stadium and the countless residents lining the streets did more than spur us on to the finish: it also showed us another side of the North Korean people. Smiles emerged, and the distance between us diminished. Sport is a wonderful thing. It can make you happy—and bring happiness to others as well.