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It is often said that you can only really know a city once you have run in it. If you wonder what kind of people say such things, the answer likely involves travelers who have suffered a cultural overdose that propelled them just outside their comfort zone, leaving them with a desperate need to share pseudo-philosophical thoughts of inspiration. Very likely, I am one of those people. If I had to describe Hong Kong in one word, it would be "authentic". But I don't mean the sanitized, gift-wrapped version of the word found in travel brochures. Hong Kong’s roads and buildings lack the polished, soul-less perfection of its neighboring megacities. It is a city that has been used, lived in, and occasionally beaten up. It feels like a good pair of broken-in running shoes: scuffed, weathered, and entirely reliable. It just works. I arrived on a late Friday afternoon. The Airport Express whisked me into the heart of the island just as the sun was surrendering to the colorful light...

I usually show up to a race feeling "almost prepared" - that familiar blend of pre-race nerves and quiet optimism. But for my Hong Kong half marathon, there were no illusions. I was objectively undertrained. This wasn't just a gut feeling, it was a conclusion supported by the cold, hard facts of my training log and a string of missed weeks thanks to a stubborn winter cold that gifted itself to me right around Christmas. It all started with the best intentions. After my half marathon in Munich, I planned a proper break before building a solid base for Hong Kong. But that break stretched longer than expected, and just as I found the groove again and actually enjoying the sessions rather than just surviving them, life intervened. A weeks-long cold is not what you hope for when flights and hotels are already booked. Back home in Germany, a health setback like this would have meant a polite cancellation. But Hong Kong was different. The last time I tried to travel here, a pand...