Feeling the pulse of Shanghai to yi-er, yi-er

Moral support and encouragement comes in all forms. In early September, it was the Chinese traffic warden who watched me cross the road, calling out "yi (one) - er (two) - yi - er" in time with my running steps, mimicking me jogging on the spot.

Fast forward two weeks, and it was the German construction workers whose enthusiastic calls of "eins - zwei - eins - zwei" helped me relax during my last training run for the 2010 Berlin Marathon.

Within seconds, their words took me back to the streets of Shanghai, and the months I had spent pounding the pavements in preparation for my biggest event of the year.

After making the decision in April that Berlin would be my physical challenge for the year, I set about planning, and then running, numerous routes through the streets of Xuhui, Luwan and Jing'an districts, in a sweltering Shanghai summer.

The challenges encountered in trying to run through a city not designed for runners was at times overwhelming - the people, the traffic, the smells, the pollution and the oppressive heat - but thankfully the opportunity to experience another side to life in China kept my passion for this pastime alive.

The random interactions with traffic wardens became a regular highlight of my early morning runs.On many occasions as I waited to cross an intersection, the warden stared at me with curiosity, before striking up a conversation.

The limited chat usually involved him asking me where I came from, I would tell him "Ao da li ya" (Australia), then he'd say something very quickly which I wouldn't understand ("ting bu dong!"). He would point at me and jog on the spot,to which I would say "dui" (right) with a big two-thumbs-up.And then the lights would turn green and I'd be on my way.

Some interactions with 7-Eleven check-out ladies proved equally as entertaining.Often they would be asleep with their head resting on the counter when I walked in. They would stare at my iPod with pure fascination, which turned to great amusement when they moved closer to hear Kylie Minogue.

Fuxing Park was another highlight of my early morning runs, providing a feast of Chinese idiosyncrasies.Sometimes it was a swing dance class bursting at the seams, the dancers swishing along to cassette recorder music.The tai chi masters were majestic as they practiced their moves, oblivious to the chaos around them.The slow-motion walkers were regularly out in force, their exaggerated steps seven or eight seconds apart.

Occasionally, I'd spot a tree-hugger offering the tree a little pelvic thrust to complement the full-bodied embrace.Choirs stood by the lake singing heartily.The bird watchers admired each other's feathered friends, exchanging an occasional chat, cigarettes, and cling-wrapped rice balls.The men playing poker were there every day without fail, sitting at their card table next to the rose garden.Old ladies with their water-pens purposefully wrote Chinese characters in water on the footpath, unfazed by the people walking straight over them.

One week before departing for Germany, I knew there wasn't much more I could do other than rest up and stay in good health.I was happy to put my feet up by then, after reaching a point of physical and mental exhaustion from all the training.

When the big day finally arrived on Sept 26, the conditions couldn't have been any more different from what I'd trained in. The cold, rainy streets of Berlin, cleared for the marathon runners, were a stark contrast to the hot, dry streets of Shanghai which are permanently congested with people, traffic and general chaos.

But nonetheless, running is running, despite the geographical differences, despite the climatic differences, and despite the differences in the language and culture of the people who stand on the sidelines to cheer.

I'm proud to say I covered the full 42 km, and truly felt the magic of Berlin in those four hours. And during the countless hours spent training in the months leading to that day, my running also provided me the privilege of feeling the magic of Shanghai.