Today is Korean Independence Day, and there are some protests planned in front of the American Embassy.

I have a little contract job for this weekend, editing a comp sci paper, but I can't log into my yahoo account for some reason, so I can't get to it. When I do, perhaps I'll print it out and go to a cafe or something to work on it. Impossible to do work at home these days.

I slept late and reread a good book this morning (The Eyre Affair, by Jasper Fforde -- the English major in me loved it). Had a rather unexpected evening last night, though. I meant to go to taekwondo, but after running like mad up the staircase of the transfer station, I had the pleasure of watching the doors to the 7:08 pm train close and the train pull away. I was about five feet and two stairs away.

I dithered for a while on the platform, debating whether to stick around and catch the 7:26 pm train, which would let me attend the last half hour of taekwondo; or call Vivian to say I was coming to dinner after all; or go home and fulfill my exercise quota for the day. Opting for the last, I got home, changed into running clothes, and around 8 pm, set out to jog/walk along the top of the flood control system near the apartment complex.

When I reached the end of the long dike, I turned around and headed back, accidentally in sync with a group of runners, one of whom was wearing a shirt emblazoned with "Jamshil Marathon." (Jamshil is the name of a neighborhood close by.) I like to pace myself against other runners sometimes, and so I followed them, noting that they were running at a slow enough pace for me to match them comfortably.

I lost track of them a few minutes later, but about 10 minutes after that, I was heading toward the riverbank, and they passed me while I was walking, so I gamely started up after them. After about 5 minutes or so of following a group of two women and one man, the man turned around and asked, "How far are you going?"

Over the wail of Tracy Chapman on my headphones, I yelled, "I don't know!"

He said, "We're going to Yeoido Island! Run with us! You run well."

"Oh, that's too far for me!" I said, but kept running with them. He motioned me to take the fourth spot in their incomplete square formation, and I fell in. After taking off my headphones, we chatted a bit. He said they were running a marathon on the 15th, and that they sometimes got together to run at night, and that they liked rock climbing. He asked if I ran much, and I said I used to run a few years ago but that now I was taking taekwondo lessons. He said that it was a good idea to do a variety of exercise. We passed a much larger group of runners going in the opposite direction, and he pointed out a man who'd completed a recent race in record time.

I hadn't intended on running very far, but a cool, breezy night, clear views of the river and city, and a strange willingness on the part of my legs to comply resulted in me running much further than I intended, maybe even as much as an hour. Very bizarre. I guess all the stars were aligned just so last night. I actually made it to the Yeouido docks with them, saluted them goodbye as they continued, and headed back. Casual friendly encounters don't happen often in Korean society, and I was kind of tickled by it.

Walking back, I noticed the moon, low and dark in the sky, just a day or two past its full stage. The last time I saw the Man in the Moon was when I sat with Mia on Yeouido, by the Han River, on her last night in Korea, drinking soju and eating instant noodles. I stopped by a playground and practiced some taekwondo moves on shaky legs before heading back home. It was nearly 10 pm when I got back.