By Anna Novick

When Yuki Kawauchi broke the tape as third overall and the first Japanese finisher at the Tokyo Marathon in February, the 24-year-old stood out from the crowd.

Not for his lean 5’7, 130 lb distance runner physique, not because he collapsed and was taken to the medical tent, and not even because his stellar time of 2:08:37 won him a chance to run on the Japanese men’s marathon team at the IAAF World Track and Field Championships’ Marathon in Daegu, Korea, later this year.

Mr. Kawauchi stood out because unlike most elite-level runners in Japan, who’re backed by a corporation, he’s an amateur in the full sense of the word. Dubbed the “Citizen Runner” in the next day’s local headlines, he works a regular job a full five days a week and pays his own expenses.

The key to his success? Working hard, being in excellent condition, but above all having fun. “Working hard for the sake of working hard won’t lead to results. You have to be careful of injury, train efficiently, and remember that you are training because you love to run.  I think that an athlete discovers the joy of track when he or she is able to stay injury-free and perform in ways that the athlete wants to.”

Until now, almost all elite Japanese runners have been on a corporate-based team. Corporate athletes are employees, but spend most of their day training for corporate championship races and “ekidens,” or distance relays, where they run wearing corporate colors—a system similar to American colleges giving scholarships to student athletes.

But Mr. Kawauchi does not sport a company singlet. Instead, as a civil servant at Saitama prefectural government, Mr. Kawauchi does office work for Kasukabe Night School. He pays the expenses for his training, which he says can add up to 1 million yen (just under $12,500) per year, out of his own pocket, and he will use his paid-leave to compete in the big race in the fall. He works a regular 8-9 hour day from Monday through Friday—12:45 p.m. to 9:15 p.m. during the school year, and from 10:30 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. when school is not in session.

His running career started early in his home area of Tokyo at first grade, with his parents’ encouragement. After early years of practice with his mother, he ran for his junior high and high school track teams, like many avid Japanese youngsters, putting in hours and hours of training after school throughout the year.  But after that, he carved out a path of his own.

He had to. Mr. Kawauchi’s performance in high school was hindered by injury: He didn’t make a college team. Adding to that injury, his father died in an accident his senior year in high school.  Still, he didn’t give up his love for the sport, running for Gakushuin University as a walk-on. But he says his performance was less than stellar. “I didn’t get enthusiastic recruit reviews from corporate teams, and my coach told me, ‘It’s going to be hard to make a living through running.’ So I decided to pursue my other dream of promoting the region I live in.”

Naturally, Mr. Kawauchi is crunched for time, and cannot train three times a day like many runners on corporate teams. He only runs 600 km (about 373 miles) a month—about half of what corporate runners put in.

But Mr. Kawauchi does what he can with the resources he has.  He designs his training based on what he found to work for him—a combination of training elements he used in secondary school and college. A typical week includes one speed workout, one 35 to 45km (22 to 28 miles) long run, and a trail run in the mountains. On other days, he runs between 75-100 minutes. While he admits that he sometimes wishes he had more time to devote to training, he says “the limit on time forces me to train efficiently, increases my motivation for my weekend training.”

Mr. Kawauchi says aspiring runners should keep their perspectives broad. “Instead of thinking you have to be either a corporate runner or quit, I want young runners to figure out what works for them, and work hard.”

As for shorter-range ambitions, Mr. Kawauchi’s goals for the Worlds are to finish among the top eight overall, and stimulate interest in the Japanese running community.

And so how do you win a marathon? Mr. Kawauchi believes that the key is “how much physical and emotional resilience you can leave in you until it’s time to push.”

By Yoree Koh

A prized Japanese watermelon fetched nearly $4,000 on Monday at an auction in Sapporo. Yes, $4,000.

But before you choke on your own slice of citrullus, that four-figure price tag is actually a steep fall from the fruit’s peak season several years ago, in what may be a sign that the country’s highly regarded luxury fruit market is the latest victim of tightening consumer purse strings.

The rare Densuke watermelon, a solidly black, smooth-as-a-bowling-ball gourd, sold on the first day of seasonal bidding for 300,000 yen, which translates into about $3,740, according to the Sapporo Central Wholesale Market. While the seeds aren’t gold, the fruit is lauded for its crispy texture and extra sweet juice. And grown exclusively in Hokkaido, there are only about 65 to 70 of the stripeless watermelons available each year.

The Isetan department store raised its paddle for the winning bid for the second consecutive year. The sweet watermelon is on display at its Shinjuku outlet in Tokyo until June 16. Business in business, though: An Isetan spokeswoman said the fruit will be sold whole for 315,000 yen.

While the final  Densuke auction block price ranks a couple thousand dollars above what most consumers would consider forking over for a variation of a summer fruit ubiquitous at neighborhood block party barbecues, it falls about as many short from the luxury fruit market’s heyday. The price of the Densuke watermelon – sold at wholesale markets in the country’s northernmost island of Hokkaido – has plunged about 200,000 yen since its peak at the Sapporo market in 2006 and 2007. The highest-ever paid price for the fruit was 650,000 yen, or about $8,100, at the Maruka Asahikawa Wholesale Market in 2007.

But still, even in a down year the Densuke watermelon is no steal for the ordinary consumer. And Japanese fruits in general are notoriously expensive compared to other countries. The fresh produce – crisp apples, fleshy peaches, juicy grapes– are treated with the utmost care, often scrubbed to a shine and perfectly nestled within white foam wrappers. A normal watermelon can cost about $30, and retailers can demand at least $10 for a pack of plump strawberries.

The Densuke isn’t the most prized of Japan’s watermelons. But even on that score, the going price for Sapporo market’s most expensive fruit, the Yubari melon, dropped by 500,000 yen this year to one million yen – or about $12,500 — on May 13. The sought-after Yubari is available at more affordable prices: a package of two-medium sized Yubari melons are currently being advertised as the perfect Father’s Day gift for 4,980 yen, for example.