Great Aloha Run

2.16.09
About a month and a half ago, I registered online for the Great Aloha Run, an eight mile race that spans from Aloha Tower in Honolulu to Aloha Stadium in Aiea. Eight miles was a lot, and I don't recall ever running that far. Still, I figured that healthy eating combined with nightly jogs (increasing in distance leading up to the race) would ensure that I was ready when the big day arrived. I was wrong. I tried training, but flat feet and bad calves hurt too much to allow me to build up my distance. I pretty much gave up with two weeks to go, trading my nightly runs for afternoon trips to the gym to lift. The upcoming day of the race became a big question mark that just got bigger and bigger...until today. Here's my detailed account of the race.

February 14, 2009. Waikiki.

I had a revelation. "I'm not going to enjoy it. I'm not going to be able to do it. Even if I try, I'll probably just hurt myself. What's the point. I should just eat the registration fee and sleep in on Monday." At the time, it seemed like the greatest idea in the world.

February 15, 2009. Blaisdale Arena.

We lined up in the crowded convention center to pick up our race packets and computer chips. It was a pretty exciting scene, with tons of sponsor booths set up and all sorts of vendor selling different running gear. Something inside of me changed right then and there. Maybe the race wouldn't be so bad. I got my computer chip and passed it through the scanner to check to see if the right info showed up. Daniel Talevich, Waialua. "Is that right?" the volunteer asked. "Perfect," I replied.

February 16, 2009. Waikele.

The alarm on my phone buzzed off at 5 a.m. It was go time. I'm not going to lie- I felt pretty good. Kelly Mumme, another TFA teacher, had let myself and Justin Pines stay at her apartment since it was close to the stadium. Justin ran at Princeton and this was his day. But his enthusiasm had rubbed off on me a little and I was feeling pretty gitty and ready to get to the starting line. The drive to the stadium went by quickly and I scarfed down a banana, a couple Advils, and some water from my Camelback. I knew that in less than two hours, it would be all over. What happened during that time, however, remained a mystery.

Starting Line.

The line to the outhouses was about a block long, so I skipped it. Instead I stretched out and did a warm-up jog. I tried to find the perfect pace, slow enough to be able to loosen up my calves as
I ran, but quick enough to maybe, just maybe, finish with a respectable time. That's when the thought of running the entire thing became more of a possibility. I still didn't know how I would be able to do it without any training, but deep down I wanted it pretty badly.

With about 10 minutes remaining before the gun went off, I wove my way into the crowd of racers. It stretched so far back that I couldn't even see the starting line, but I figured once I finally reached it, the crowd would thin and I could start jogging.

I massaged my calves a little bit and got really focused. The battle was about to kick off- my heart vs. my legs and feet. Will and drive vs. pain. I decided right then and there that I wanted to run the whole thing. I didn't care how I was going to do it- but I would.

Mile One. Aloha Tower.

Bad sign. I'm surrounded by strollers. And old people. Probably not where I want to be to start out. It takes about 20 minutes to just reach the starting line, and when I get there, it's still packed. I say a quick prayer, cross the line, and turn on my iPod...to Lil' Wayne's "Lollipop."

The first mile is all about weaving through traffic. I try to follow the other runners who are also trying to manuever around the strollers and old folk. The left edge is the most open, and I make a little progress. Maybe it's better to start off slow so that I can loosen up without overwhelming the feet and legs too early on. By the time I hit the first mile marker, I'm feeling pretty good, but my left foot is already cramped.

Mile Two. Ala Moana Blvd.

iPod Song: E-40 "Go Hard or Go Home."

I'm feeling great. Left foot is still giving me a little trouble but my calves feel fine. My iPod's got me really fired up but I'm trying to maintain a steady pace because there's still an eternity to go. There are still tons of walkers flooding the course, but the left side is pretty clear and the medians are serving as express lanes. Passing pretty much everyone (even though they're walking) is giving me a lot of confidence. But I have to stay focused. I play the E-40 again because the beat's working for me. When I hit the second mile marker, I think about how my body's holding up and wonder whether I can do that three more times. Probably.

Mile Three. Ala Moana Blvd.

iPod Song: E-40 "Go Hard or Go Home" (still)

I'm cruising now. Closing in on 5K distance and still holding up pretty well. The feet are getting a little tingly, but every time it happens, I slow up just a bit and change up my form and things get better. Calves haven't turned into rocks yet, and I can't believe it. When I hit the third mile marker, I'm already thinking what I should do at the finish line if I still have a little left. Should I sprint it, or do some sort of end zone dance? Maybe I'm thinking a little too far ahead...

Mile Four. Nimitz Highway.

iPod Song: E-40 "Go Hard or Go Home" (still)

We're running under H1 now, so there's a lot of shade and it's very wide. With all the space, I'm tempted to jet, but I have to stick to my pace. I can't wait to hit the fourth mile marker. I'll be halfway! I'm still listening to the same song I've had on since the beginning, but I don't want to change it because I'm still feeling it and I'm worried that switching tunes will also offset my Chi. I'm cruising along when I come across Maile, one of my good TFA friends. I ask her how she's doing and then keep on moving. I'm surprised that she's the first familiar face I've seen. But I'm in the zone. Where's that mile marker? It's been forever...

Mile Six. Nimitz Highway.

iPod Song: "Get Buck in Here"

...So I guess I missed the fourth mile marker. But it's a great boost when I look over at the mile marker expecting to see a 4 and actually see a 5. I'm a mile ahead of what I expected. Only three left! Can I run a 5k in this state? My feet are a little sore, but the calves are still good and I'm not winded. I got this. I start to think about how soon I should step it up and push my pace a little for the finish. Two miles out? Maybe. I gotta get to that sixth mile marker before I really know.

Mile Seven. H1.

iPod Song: DJ Kaled "We Takin Over"

We've emerged from under the overpass and out into the sun. I'm a little nervous that the new heat is going to drain me pretty fast. Then we hit the first hill. Just a gradual climb but enough to make my feet start to feel like water balloons. Bad news. It means the calves are starting to cramp. I look out from the freeway and can see the stadium in the distance. About two miles away. So close yet so far. On the descent, I slow my stride a little, letting my feet and calves recover a little by working less but going the same speed.

Mile Eight. Aiea.

iPod Song: Kanye West "Stronger"

It's game time. I still have a little left in the tank, so I shift into a faster gear. The stadium's straight ahead, but who knows where the finish line is? I should've done a little research. When can I break into my sprint? Just then, I see a line with a grandstand and a crowd surrounding it. Already? But I still got a little left! I break out into an all out sprint, all the way through the painted line. But there's something wrong. Everyone's still going. Oops. It was just a stand for photographers. I slow down again and now realize that I'm pretty drained.

We round the parking lot of the stadium. For all I know, we could be running all the way around it, which would be another half mile. I'm tired but I still have a little left...enough to finish strong if only I knew where the finish was. Just then I hear a volunteer shout, "Just around the corner!" I kick up my legs and up the pace. I can really feel the burn now and I'm finally breathing hard. The course takes a sharp right turn right towards the stadium. Of course! We finish IN the stadium! I take the last straightaway in a full out sprint, my legs kicking way up as I rush down the hill and onto the turf, and through the finish line.

I slow down to a walk, and the pain doesn't take long to finally catch up with me. As I exit the stadium, my feet are so cramped that I can barely walk. But it doesn't matter. I exceeded my expectations by miles and miles. And next year, I plan on doing the exact same.