My Hsinchu Half Marathon Experience

Welcome back to my blog!

It has been quite a while since I last updated my website, and I sincerely apologize for the long delay. Over the past few months, I have been occupied with various commitments, but today I would like to share one of my most memorable recent experiences—participating in the Hsinchu Half Marathon.

To be honest, I never originally planned to join this race. However, sometimes life works in unexpected ways. I like to believe in fate, and this race was chosen almost entirely on impulse. Rather than carefully comparing different events and considering their advantages or disadvantages, I simply followed my intuition and registered for it. Looking back now, I am glad I did.

Preparing for the race required nearly four months of training. Throughout that journey, I learned much more than how to run longer distances. For me, the greatest reward was not the medal waiting at the finish line, but the lessons accumulated along the way. There is something deeply satisfying about setting a goal, consistently putting in the effort, and gradually witnessing your own progress. Every training session reminded me that growth comes from persistence, discipline, and patience.

The race also gave me an opportunity to step outside my daily routine and explore a different city. Traveling to Hsinchu for the event added a sense of adventure to the experience and made the entire journey even more meaningful.

Race day itself began with an unexpected challenge. I left my hotel very early in the morning, expecting plenty of time to reach the starting area. Unfortunately, things did not go according to plan. I was unable to book either a taxi or an Uber and spent nearly an hour waiting without success. As the race start time drew closer, I became increasingly worried that I might miss the event altogether.

Feeling desperate, I walked into a nearby 7-Eleven and asked for help. Fortunately, I met another runner who was facing exactly the same problem. Neither of us could find transportation, so we eventually shared a taxi to the race venue. Looking back, it was a funny and memorable moment. Despite surviving on only five or six hours of sleep and enduring a long, frustrating wait, everything somehow worked out in the end.

Whenever I look at the photos from that morning, I still remember standing there with little hope of finding a ride, wondering whether I would make it to the starting line on time. Sometimes the most memorable parts of a race are not the kilometers we run, but the unexpected stories that happen before it even begins.

On race day, I felt surprisingly good from the very beginning. Everything seemed to come together perfectly—the rhythm of my running, the energy of the runners around me, and the scenery along the course. What impressed me most was the contrast of the landscape. Part of the route passed through modern areas filled with high-rise buildings, company offices, and industrial parks, while other sections led through peaceful countryside surrounded by rice fields, vegetable farms, bamboo groves, and small waterfalls. It felt as though two completely different worlds existed side by side.

One of my few regrets was not bringing my phone with me. There were countless moments I wanted to capture, yet perhaps that was also a blessing. Without distractions, I was able to fully immerse myself in the experience. The scenery, the atmosphere, and the simple act of running brought a sense of peace that I had not felt in a long time. It was surprisingly healing—not only physically, but mentally and emotionally as well.

Nothing particularly extraordinary happened during the race, yet the small details touched me deeply. As I ran through the countryside, I found myself reminded of my hometown and the memories of my childhood. The familiar sight of fields, trees, and open spaces stirred emotions that are difficult to describe. Perhaps these moments would not mean much to others, but they resonated strongly with me because they felt so close to the life I once knew.

People often ask why runners willingly spend so much time, effort, and money participating in marathons. To be honest, I have asked myself the same question many times, and I still do not have a definitive answer. Perhaps it comes from our desire to challenge ourselves. Perhaps it comes from the happiness we feel after crossing the finish line. Or perhaps it is simply the satisfaction of seeing months of preparation transformed into a single achievement.

Completing a race requires much more than showing up on race day. It involves months of training, strengthening muscles, improving endurance, learning to control breathing, and teaching the body to sustain effort over long distances. Yet beyond the physical preparation, there is something even more meaningful.

Throughout the race, I was surrounded by thousands of other runners. Some were faster than me, while others ran at a slower pace. However, what mattered was that we were all moving toward the same destination. Regardless of our speed, every runner was pursuing a personal goal and overcoming their own challenges. We were not there to prove who was the fastest. We were there to prove to ourselves that we could keep going, one step at a time, until we reached the finish line.

Of course, the race was difficult. The weather was hot, our bodies were tired, and sweat poured down endlessly. At times, it felt like suffering. Yet along the way, unexpected moments of joy appeared—a beautiful view, a cheering volunteer, a brief conversation, or simply the realization that we were still moving forward. These small moments carried us through the difficult stretches until, little by little, the finish line came into sight.

And when it finally appeared, all the fatigue seemed to disappear. What remained was a feeling of accomplishment, gratitude, and happiness—a reminder that some of life’s most rewarding experiences are earned one step at a time.

The Hsinchu Half Marathon was just one of many races I have participated in, but it represented something more than a sporting event. For me, every marathon is an opportunity to broaden my perspective and discover a new place in a unique way.

One of the reasons I choose to run in different cities is that it allows me to explore them gradually, step by step, rather than simply passing through as a visitor. Each city has its own character, atmosphere, and rhythm, and I enjoy experiencing these differences through running. The streets, the scenery, the local people, and even the morning air reveal a side of the city that I might otherwise never notice.

Runners, walkers, travelers, and backpackers all move through the world in different ways. We carry different identities, pursue different goals, and see the same place from entirely different perspectives. As for me, I wish to see more cities through the eyes of a runner. There is something special about discovering a destination not from behind a camera or a car window, but through every step, every breath, and every kilometer along the journey.

Perhaps that is one of the reasons I continue to sign up for races in unfamiliar places. Beyond the medals and finishing times, I am collecting experiences, memories, and perspectives. Each race allows me to understand a city a little better, while also learning something new about myself along the way.

In the end, it took me just a little over two hours to complete the 21-kilometer race. When I think about it, two hours is actually a very short period of time. Sometimes I ask myself why I chose to stand at that starting line in the first place. I spent money on registration fees, transportation, and accommodation. I devoted months to training and sacrificed countless early mornings and weekends. All of that effort, just for a race that would be over in a couple of hours.

Was it really worth it?

For a long time, I could not find a clear answer. If the goal was simply to earn a medal, then perhaps the investment of time and effort would seem unreasonable. However, the more I reflected on the experience, the more I realized that the value of a marathon cannot be measured by the hours spent on race day.

The race itself may last only two hours, but the journey begins months before the starting gun. It lives in every training session completed when motivation is low, every kilometer run in the rain, every early morning alarm, and every moment when you choose discipline over comfort. The finish line is merely the final chapter of a much longer story.

Perhaps that is why I continue to run. It is not because I enjoy suffering, nor because I am chasing medals. It is because running allows me to witness my own growth. It teaches me patience when progress is slow, resilience when challenges appear, and confidence when I overcome limitations that once seemed impossible.

When I crossed the finish line in Hsinchu, I did not feel proud because I had completed 21 kilometers. I felt proud because I knew how much effort, persistence, and determination had brought me there. The medal was simply a symbol. The true reward was becoming a stronger version of myself along the way.

So was it worth the sacrifice?

Looking back now, my answer is yes. Not because of the race itself, but because of everything I gained during the journey toward it.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story and for accompanying me on this journey.

If you have your own running experiences, travel stories, or personal reflections to share, I would be delighted to hear them. Feel free to reach out to me at jailee145@gmail.com.

Until then, take care of yourself, keep moving forward, and never stop exploring the world in your own way.

See you in the next blog.