Inspired by Kuafu Chasing the Sun
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Inspired by Kuafu Chasing the Sun
The story of Kuafu chasing the sun tells of the Kuafu clan, giants who, during a great drought, attempted to capture the sun by racing after it. In the end, they died of thirst, their staff turning into a peach forest and their bodies into Kuafu Mountain. Some interpret this myth as symbolizing the fearless spirit of pursuing the impossible. But I think that somewhat distorts the original meaning. The name “Kuafu” itself is likely pejorative, suggesting arrogance and overreach—attempting what is beyond one’s capability. Moreover, the giant traits of the Kuafu clan align with the traditional Chinese stereotype of tall people being foolish. But I am just such a Kuafu, running through the wilderness and enjoying the thrill of this pursuit.
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Others may sneer, but I find joy in it. I believe Kuafu’s so-called foolishness represents humanity’s endless drive to explore the unknown and an unending expression of our will to survive. Fools sometimes have the luck of fools—and justice prevails; effort always brings reward.
Enduring Great Hardship to Enjoy Great Bliss
From a personal perspective, I believe that only by enduring hardship can one truly enjoy bliss—the sweet comes only after the bitter. Confucius said, “If we don’t understand life, how can we understand death?” To me, how can one enjoy bliss without enduring hardship? From my own experience, there are two main benefits. First, it pushes the body. Car owners know that a new car needs to be taken out on the highway to really open up—ideally reaching speeds over 160 km/h, pushing its limits, so it performs better afterward. It's the same with humans. After long periods of sitting in offices or working hunched over desks, if you don’t push your limits, your physical functions will deteriorate. Even if you’re alive, you won’t be healthy.
Second, it raises your limits.
To put it simply, the human body is a complex system, and its condition resembles an inverted parabola. More plainly, it’s like the cross-section of a valley. A person’s health is like a bead resting at the bottom of that valley. As long as the bead stays in the valley, there are no major issues. But once the bead rolls out of the valley, illness sets in. This bead is constantly jostled by random factors. If the valley is shallow, the bead can easily roll out—bringing all sorts of ailments. But extreme sports like these push the limits of every organ in your body, digging the valley deeper and deeper. That makes it harder for the bead to roll out, and your body’s adaptability becomes stronger.
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At the same time, 100 kilometers is truly a test and enjoyment of the spirit. There’s a Buddhist saying: “See through life and death.” I believe everyone who has participated in a 100km trail race has their own insights. Whether you came for prize money, for the glory of ranking, or for any other reason, on that 100km journey, all of those things fade away like clouds drifting by. What remains is the purest pursuit deep in your heart. The soul is purified here, life is elevated here, and even your attitude toward life and way of thinking may shift somewhat—you become more of a pure person. If you’re a participant, think carefully—have you felt these changes? Not necessarily seeing through life and death, but certainly bidding farewell to your former self and ascending once again.
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Whenever I see footage of elderly Red Army veterans on TV, I wonder why they’ve lived so long and why their spirits are so strong. My conclusion is the Long March—the painful Long March—that allowed them to be reborn, rejuvenating both their bodies and minds.
Only Through Exploration Can We Move Forward
From the perspective of the human spirit, the 100km trail race is a microcosm of humanity’s continuous exploration. There must be those who take risks, those who explore, and those who push the limits. If everyone stays curled up in their comfort zones, humanity will wither and decline.
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I won’t make judgments about ethnic differences—I’ll just state facts. Why are Black people so good at sports, dominating marathon medals every time, yet rarely seen in mountain climbing, exploration, or trail running where lives could be at stake? Why are many white people passionate about these potentially deadly sports? Is it just a matter of preference? Probably not—preferences vary individually, but at the level of ethnicity, it reflects national spirit and tendency!
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No matter how fast you run a marathon, it’s like a blindfolded donkey going round and round a millstone, taking a few more steps on a man-made track. But mountain climbing, exploration, trail running—these are about freeing yourself, seeking the fundamental freedom of humanity, the kind of boldness where “the sky is high for birds to fly and the sea wide for fish to leap.” Different sports reflect different spirits: one inward-looking, conservative, and stagnant—even if you run fast, you’re just going in circles; the other outward-looking, constantly expanding, like the roots of a plant—slow, but always reaching outward. I believe the latter is the kind of spiritual pursuit a nation should have. Thankfully, we are no longer satisfied with marathons, no longer content with existing constraints. We are changing, we are becoming more open. I hope we continue down this path!
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This piece is a short memoir, engraving an unforgettable day—and a moment of silence for the fellow countrymen who lost their lives in the Lushan earthquake on the very same day.