half what?

At 4:45 a.m., I brought my fist down on the snooze button and asked myself, yet again, why I do these things. At 4:48 a.m. I came up with the following list of reasons:

1) I love my heart. I love my life. I love my husband. The longevity of our lives depends much on the health of our hearts. Hence, we are running for our lives.

2) There's no downside to free t-shirts and snacks.

3) I like to compete with myself and I love being able to stomp a previous Personal Best into the dust.

The Hibiscus Half Marathon, for which we had zero intention of actually staying within the division we signed up in (half mar, 13.1 mi): SO DONE.

Well, not so done that he pounded his chest and I vogued out at the finish line. Not so done that I am going to point you to a link that will show you our official race time - which is moot because we returned our chips before the start of the race, unsure up till Ready-Set-Go whether we were going to 5K or 15K it - and fake out, because at the 15K turnaround, I shrugged and said let's just do the whole thing. Not even so done that there were decent snacks left by the time we crossed the finish line. But done enough that although pretty much every leg and foot muscle I have is angry at me, and although my cold may be planning a vicious relapse as we speak, I feel victorious. As those real runners say: 'Aole makou e ho'ohikiwale kela. Wouldn't want it to be easy!

I'm actually supposed to be getting ready for church right now so don't have time to give a really detailed account of everything but some memorable moments include a stretch of Kalanianaole where a pair of ladies caught up to us and said we were their rabbits, as in, the one or group you pace yourself with and/or try to pass. That was super cool. We tag-teamed it until my Achilles' tendon asked me to tone it down. My low point: the six-mile marker. We had passed the five what seemed like a long time before, and I couldn't believe we were only at six. Before that, of course, the moment of truth (well, one of them) at the gas station in Kahala where we were supposed to make the turn for the 15K. We stood there drinking Gatorade trying to decide if we had it in us to run the full course. My joints are screaming at me, but I still think I made the right decision. Miles 11, 12 and 13 were the toughest. I sang They Might Be Giants' "New York City" just to take my mind off the pavement. There were points where I thought the greatest feeling in the world would be just to sit on the curb. But we never stopped - even when I slowed to a crawl pace because I thought I was going to puke. The stretches we walked were the most painful walking steps I've ever taken. I discovered that running, somehow, was easier than walking. And so we ran as far and as fast as my Achilles' tendon would allow, and we ran it all the way in.

Off to church to thank God for everything I have. Like, legs. And an awesome husband. And pancakes.

A few pics.