Monday, October 23, 2023, 02:45 US Central. Memphis, Tennessee, USA.
My phone alarm startled me from sleep, and I scrabbled around in the darkness to turn it off. My legs ached. I was operating on 3.5 hours of sleep, not even two days after running my first 56K ultramarathon, and I was expected to survive a flight across the Pacific? Forgive me for not immediately being stoked. I groaned through a too-hot shower and headed to Memphis International with Zoomie at 3:15.
Our first flight passed in a blink. Memphis to Dallas in just over an hour. We lifted off at 5:15 and landed before the sun rose at 6:30. We arrived at Terminal D, where my college friends and I joke that I will hunt down the airport Whataburger each time I pass through DFW. We were in the right terminal, and who am I to violate karmic norms at the beginning of an adventure? Its orange W drew me in like a siren’s song. I realized that I was hungry for the first time in over two days – the night before the race – and I could think of no better fond farewell to America than the reckless destruction of fast food. My order arrived with a large burger, fries, spicy ketchup, and no regrets.
With breakfast out of the way, it was time to confront the 11.5 hour monster that stood in front of me. It took the shape of a 787 Dreamliner. A truly intimidating beast. It was the largest plane I’d ever been on, and it was fully booked. Not long into the flight, the entire cabin began to dim. And I don’t mean they simply lowered the cabin lights: the windows themselves darkened automatically, filtering more and more sunlight as I watched. The Sun now looked about as bright as the moon in a dark sky outside my window, and the entire cabin was tinted a faint blue. Just like that, the cabin was abruptly on Tokyo Time. I’d never heard of these windows before, but they were a nice touch. Apparently they’re made with a gel that becomes less transparent as you run more current through it.
I wish I could say that my fascination with the 787’s windows carried me the whole way to Japan. You’ll be shocked to hear that the flight was a slog. I packed light, and limited my entertainment options to my Kindle, my phone, and a Bluetooth keyboard to start a travel journal with. It didn’t take me long to finish Des Linden’s book about her 2018 Boston Marathon win, and watched a couple episodes of Band Of Brothers. The snow-capped hills of the Alaskan shoreline passed underneath us. I stared out the window and thought about my Grandpa Bill, who had been stationed there during the Korean War. I thought of his stories of getting bored, lonely, and homesick, in stark contrast against that gorgeous landscape. We can’t help but take things for granted after a while. Any place will lose its luster in time. That’s why we travel.
Turning away from the blue window, I pulled out my Bluetooth keyboard and jotted down the following:
“It’s 8 PM Memphis time, and I’m still on the Dreamliner. What’s a dream that lasts too long? I’d say I want to wake up, but don’t I have to get to sleep first? It’s 10 AM in Tokyo right now. Jesus, we’ve been chasing the sun west all day. I suppose this qualifies as the longest literal day of my life, just two days after the longest figurative one. Say what you will about this chaotic universe, sometimes it churns out poetry.”
Shasta Runs 