Why I run for trains

They joke in Los Angeles that the one benefit of a recession is that it reduces traffic. I wish that were the case here in Tokyo as well...but it's not.

The train station nearest my house is the terminus for the Chiyoda subway line - a busy subway line that runs through most business districts in the city. It's also the transfer point for the Odakyu train line, that connects Tokyo's western suburbs to the city. During rush hour these lines, and this station in particular, serve as a major transportation artery.

Consequently, the tiny station is always packed with people. The Odakyu train will come and go at least twice, dumping off its transferring passengers, before an empty Chiyoda subway train arrives.

This subway platform is more than 200 meters long. There are 10 cars per subway. Each car has 4 doors. Standing before each door are three rows of people about 12 deep. That's 144 people per car, or 1,440 per train. Standing next to the three orderly lines in front of each subway car door is ANOTHER three lines of passengers some waiting for the next train, some waiting to make the existing 1,440 existing passengers pack in line sardines. That means at any one time on the platform, there are over close to 3,000 people waiting for a train. Let's say every 10 minutes for two hours this station turns over close to 40,000 travelers. And we're talking about a relatively small station. Can you see what I'm getting at? This place is crowded.


That's why I run. I used to make fun of those businessmen who would burst into a full sprint as they got closer to the train. Oh, how I mocked what I didn't understand! They weren't running to catch a train, they were running to beat another trains' passengers in line! That's exactly what I'm doing. As soon as I hit the train station, I'm using my long legs to propel myself up two flights of stairs, briskly walking through the turnstiles and up another flight of stairs to the platform. If I hear an Odakyu train coming with thousands of other passengers that want my place in line, then I'm running hard and I'm not afraid to push people out of the way. The result is that I'm WAY out of breath and sound like a panting dog by the time I finally get in line. If I can beat the other train's passengers, then I usually can either find a seat or at least stand in a place where I'm protected from the crowds. But if I can't, then it's like being packed in a can of sardines. But more on that in another post.

Blind runners

Japan is a nation of runners. If you're up early and head to Yoyogi Park, one of the major parks in Tokyo, the pathways will be filled with runners getting in their morning exercise before work.

On the weekends you'll see a large group of blind runners descend upon the park and take to the paths. There usually is a large collection of seeing eye dogs lounging together as their owners get their exercise. These runners partner with someone who can see and run in rhythm thanks to a tether that both runners hold. This not only guides the runner down a safe path, but ensures both runners maintain the same pace.

I've been critical of what I sense as being a lack of charitable spirit in Tokyo. But this is a great example of a grassroots effort to meet the needs of a small population in need. What a selfless and efficient way to help someone with a disability to more fully enjoy his or her life, while at the same getting exercise you would probably get anyway.

To that end, Shelley and I are in the midst of looking for a cause or organization to get involved with - something that we could do as a family. For my Tokyo readers/friends - any ideas, suggestions, recommendations?