Once, Wang Hui-jen (王惠珍) was not only the fastest woman in Taiwan, she was the fastest woman in all of Asia. In 1994 in Hiroshima, she set an Asian Games record in the 200m dash, finishing in 23.34 seconds. Based on that performance, she was dubbed the Queen of Speed (風速女王) by the Japanese media. It was the height of her career, catapulting her to status as a sort of national hero in Taiwan, where people still sometimes hail her in the street.
After 13 years as a sprinter, Wang retired just two years ago to embark on a new career. She is still Taiwan's record holder in the women's 200m, but now you will find her in her studio near the Meihua movie theater (梅花戲院) devoting herself to a gentler and more creative endeavor -- patchwork.
"I love cute, little things," says Wang. Now, kitties cuddling together and repeated colored bouquets are some of the designs she relishes most. Her signature, however, is a rabbit doll, one of which hangs down from the shelf in her studio.
PHOTO: TAIPEI TIMES
It's a grandmother rabbit with long ears and a long body wearing a greenish dress. Looking at the dress, she says, "It's to bring out the feel of being on the grass".
As she speaks, Wang keeps herself busy measuring a piece of cloth with a long ruler. At the same time, she watches over her two quiet students doing their work. She still has nicely tanned skin, chiseled facial features and a tough, determined look. As she whisks agilely around the studio in a sleeveless T-shirt and pleated mini-skirt, she does not appear to be in retirement.
"Compared to what I had -- running in front of thousands of people, I mean -- this is not at all tiring or difficult," says Wang, comparing her two careers.
PHOTO: CHIANG YING-YING, TAIPEI TIMES
As an athlete, Wang was discovered in high school. She was trained to run, and impressive initial performances heralded her burgeoning career. She continued running all through her business studies at Cheng Chih University (政治大學), and her life became a ritual routine between practice and competition. She used to run seven hours a day, even on holidays, even at Chinese New Year. "I used to run until I was completely out of breath. A lot of times, I even ran until I shed tears," says Wang.
That's exactly what happened in 1991 at England's 16th Sheffield Universiade, a world-wide athletics competition for college athletes. As Wang, then 21, broke the ribbon for the victory, she was in such extreme physical pain that tears flooded her eyes. But she became the first Asian sprinter to win a gold medal in those collegiate athletic games. The title also won her NT$3 million at home from the Ministry of Education (教育部), which rewards national athletes with different dollar amounts based on the degree of their accomplishments.
With all of the honors Wang garnered, some of her fans may be surprised that she doesn't miss her days of stardom, grabbing gold medals and being crowded by the media. But her words prescribe a different reality: "I did not want to be an athlete. It was all about responsibility."
According to Tsai Jung-pin (蔡榮斌), Wang's personal trainer for 10 years, Wang was regarded as a national treasure, and was given an agenda of running in all kinds of athletic games at the international level. In effect, she was part of Taiwan's effort to gain exposure in the international community. Wang had to run on more than 200 occasions each year, averaging around eight victories a year abroad and many more at home.
Wang is now 30, which may be a young age for retirement on the international circuit, but as Chi Cheng (紀政), former president of Chinese Taipei Track and Field Association, points out, by Taiwanese standards her career was much longer than most. The majority of athletes in this country, including both males and females, retire when they graduate from college. Their reasons lie not so much in the physical and mental stress of their sport, but in pragmatism and social norms.
Chi said most athletes choose to embark on careers and start families after college, so they cannot afford to continue with rigid training schedules. The number of competitions they can join is also affected, as are the relevant financial returns. Athletes who continue beyond college survive on prizes and awards. "You have to go commercial at that point and even get paid for just appearing," she said.
Earning as much as NT$90,000 a month, Wang did better than just survive.
However, Chi believes her success wasn't quite glorious enough to merit an extended career. "Wang was the best sprinter we had," she said, "but still, she never obtained real international celebrity status. To remain an athlete, the only choice for her was to maintain a formidable training schedule and keep her body highly tuned."
Wang chose not to. She had envisioned retiring young and was preparing for a second career. She had liked sewing since she was small and was able to keep it up through her athletic career. It actually helped that she was a busy athlete with a tight training schedule, because she had limited time for socializing. So she did things on her own, like sewing dolls.
Wang first started to get serious about patchwork while in college. She went through a program offered by the Japanese Handicraft Instructors' Association to get herself certified to be an instructor of patchwork. Now she has about 40 regular students. It's enough to keep her busy, and she enjoys the absence of the extreme pressure and solitude that marked her athletic career. "It was a closed lifestyle I had," declares Wang, who's somewhat outspoken in private, "I did not go out and make friends."
Certainly, it's not everybody who can turn her life around successfully, but Wang possesses a flair for succeeding in whatever she does. Part of that comes from her athletic experience. "I have learned not to surrender to failure," says Wang, whose mental focus was once set on winning only two or three out of every hundred races.
Tseng Ching-tan (曾清淡), who administers athletic scholarships at one of Taiwan's most important track and field sponsors, the United Daily News (聯合報), concurs. "She is different from the other athletes," he said, noting not only her ability to earn more than other athletes, but also her strength of character. "She has a good brain, is very independent, and looks far ahead."
Tseng is particularly right when about vision. Wang has plenty of plans for the future. Ambitious as ever, she's ready to be the queen again, though this time of a different sort. Though she only has a handful of students at the moment, she believes that her craft can grow, even potentially on an international scale. "It's a craft that can be appreciated across national frontiers," she says.
So every once in a while, when a person on the street or a taxi driver still recognizes her and asks for the autograph of Taiwan's most famous sprinter, Wang is neither impressed nor bothered. She feels that it's a small happening in her life that doesn't deserve much attention. What's important to her is that she has made the most of a fresh start.
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