Surgery Godfather

Chapter 2263: Chapter 1468: What Do You Think About While Running?

After Director He left, Weber hurried over: "Professor, I heard you go for a morning run every day. Can we join you for the run? We need to take care of our own health now."

Seeing their enthusiasm, Yang Ping said, "You have to stick to running, you can’t fish for three days and sunbathe for two."

Manstein patted his chest beside them: "Professor, don’t worry, I fish every day and sunbathe every day."

"Alright, see you at the park entrance next to the hospital at five thirty tomorrow morning! But you must go to bed before ten at night, can you do that?" Yang Ping agreed.

"Sure!" Weber and Manstein each gave Yang Ping a high-five and left happily.

The next morning at five thirty, Yang Ping stood waiting for Weber and Manstein under the big banyan tree at the park entrance.

The sky was just beginning to lighten, street lamps still casting tree shadows on the ground, like an ink painting. The air carried a humid scent of grass and trees, mingling with the distant aroma of fried dough from breakfast stalls. He wore a dark blue quick-dry sports T-shirt, black tight running pants, and a pair of top-tier Asahi running shoes, their soles evidently worn from hundreds of kilometers of running.

His phone vibrated; Weber sent a message: "At the entrance, I see you."

Yang Ping looked up, seeing Weber and Manstein running over from across the street. Weber wore a fluorescent yellow sports T-shirt, black shorts, and a headband. Manstein wore a gray long-sleeve sports shirt, deep blue running pants, and a white sun hat. Both ran slowly, roughly at a six-minute pace, evidently warming up.

Yang Ping glanced at them and began a slow jog in place to warm up, high knees, butt kicks, lunges, ankle circles. His warm-up was very professional, each move executed properly, without laziness or skipping. Weber followed along beside him, his movements rather awkward, clearly not used to the routine. Manstein stood by watching without participating.

"Not warming up?" Yang Ping asked Manstein.

"My slow run is my warm-up."

Yang Ping said nothing; everyone has their own habits, no need to force.

"How are we running today?" Weber asked.

Yang Ping thought for a moment: "I’ll do a five-kilometer run first, pacing at four minutes fifty. You run at your own pace, walk if you can’t keep up, don’t push yourself."

"Alright."

The three started off side by side, Yang Ping immediately setting his pace to four minutes forty seconds, running with a very standard form, large steps, fast cadence, landing lightly, like a deer patrolling in the morning light.

Weber followed for two hundred meters, dropping to a five-minute pace, Manstein for less than a hundred meters, dropping directly past a six-minute pace.

"He’s... too fast..." Manstein’s voice came from the back, intermittently.

"I told you... you can’t keep up..." Weber was also panting.

Yang Ping neither slowed down nor sped up, maintaining his rhythm, continuing forward. The dawn light spread behind him, casting his shadow on the road ahead, long, like a moving ruler.

By the second kilometer, Yang Ping’s breathing fell into a rhythm. Two steps per inhale, two per exhale, deep and long, like a smoothly running engine. Heart rate probably around one hundred fifty, at the high end of the aerobic zone, close to the threshold. He could sustain this intensity for two hours.

He glanced back. Weber and Manstein had fallen nearly three hundred meters behind. Both ran side by side, Weber on the outside, Manstein on the inside, similar speed, all around the five-minute mark.

Yang Ping turned back and continued running.

Around the fourth kilometer, Yang Ping passed a section uphill. The incline wasn’t steep, but it affected his pace. Not forcing it, he let his pace naturally slow to around five minutes, stride shortened, cadence steady, upper body still straight, breathing still smooth.

At the fifth kilometer, Yang Ping didn’t stop immediately but gradually slowed, from four minutes forty to six, then to seven, finally to a slow walk. He walked about a hundred meters to let his heart rate gradually drop, then leaned on the roadside railing to stretch.

Calves, thighs, hips, lower back, upper back. Each area stretched for thirty seconds, not painful but feeling a pull. While stretching, he glanced in the direction he came from; Weber and Manstein had not yet appeared. He waited about five minutes before seeing two figures slowly running through the morning light.

Weber was ahead, Manstein behind, with about a fifty-meter distance between them. Manstein’s posture was still decent, not fast but the rhythm steady. Weber’s posture had changed, upper body slightly leaning back, shortened strides, slower cadence, clearly straining.

Manstein arrived first. He stopped beside Yang Ping, leaned on his knees, took a few deep breaths, then straightened up and started walking slowly.

Manstein arrived soon after. He almost dragged himself over, reached Yang Ping, said nothing, bent over, hands on knees, gasping for air. Sweat dripped off his cap brim onto the ground, quickly absorbed by the dry cement.

Weber straightened up, took off his hat, wiped his face with his sleeve. His face was very red, all the way from his forehead down to his neck.

Yang Ping said nothing. He walked to Weber and touched his pulse. The radial artery pulsed strongly, rhythm regular, heart rate around one hundred sixty or so, high for someone over seventy but still within a safe range.

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