#41 Maui Tacos 5K

Aloha.

As I write these stories about my adventures, I have this illusions that I am imparting wisdom to my readers.  With that in mind, I give you the "aloha" lesson.  Depending upon the intonation and accompanying hand gestures, Aloha has many different meanings.  It can mean "hello" or "goodbye" or "leave me alone" or "this conversation is over."  On my recent trip to Maui, I encountered this phrase everywhere.

#41 was the Maui Tacos 5k. (Yes, I went to Hawaii for a 5k.) We experienced horrendous traveling conditions. Delayed in Cincinnati.  Delayed in Houston.  Stranded in Los Angeles overnight. No assistance from the airline. (#WeHateUnited). Our bags are God Knows Where...and we are spending the night in El Segundo.  Where exactly is El Segundo?  Never mind, you don't want to know.  

Later we learned that in addition to various weather delays, an airplane engine had misfired on a runway at LAX, shutting down the airport for several hours just before our arrival, and cancelling many flights.  Getting us to Hawaii, was not a priority for them.

Good times.  Lots of fun.

We are exhausted and just want to be there now.  We are afforded the opportunity to purchase a delightful little box of snacks to sustain us.  (Insert sarcasm font here.)

The next day, we spend an extra 3 hours on the runway determining whether one of the engines is working or not.  Finally determine that it is (Good to know that before crossing the ocean.)  We arrive much later than planned. Exhausted. Fetch our bags. Get the car.  Drive to hotel. Check in.  Eat.  Collapse.

Because we lost a day travelling, we wake up the next day for the run.  Didn't matter.  Our body clock hadn't re-set so we are up at 4 AM.  Which is good, because the race doesn't start until 8 AM.  So there is time to kill.  Off to the beach!

The run was hot.  Now, I'm not bitching about the weather.  It was hot even for Hawaii.  The locals said so.  By 8 AM it is already a balmy 93 degrees.   And humid.  (Okay I'm bitching. A little bit.)   The course is several loops around three large hotels which are situated on the beach. (I know, you feel sorry for me.)

We start on the main road, swerve off to a service road, and loop around the first hotel.  Back to the main road, we then turn right and go up a hill.  Let's call the hill Mt. Kilimanjaro. Steep and hot, and the bonus is that I get the run down it on the way back.  On the climb up, I feel dizzy...light-headed.  I am scarfing down water as I go.  Can't seem to get enough.

Did I mention it was hot?

After the hill, I hear a runner behind me praising Jesus and thanking God very loudly and gesturing her arms.  I'm thinking that she is having a "Come-to-Jesus" moment and may be delirious from the heat.  Only after she passes me do I realize she has headphones on and is playing gospel music very loudly.   Alleluia.


I struggled to make it to the finish in under an hour.  It is hotter than hell.  It least I didn't require the services of the medical tent.  IV's strung up on ropes over stretchers.   Participants with cold washcloths on faces.  A Triage Unit.

After the race, we spend the rest of the time sight-seeing and being tourists.  We travel the Road to Hana.   It has 617 turns. 56 bridges.  Scenic waterfalls.  Lush plants.  Amazing views.  Black sand beaches and red sand beaches.  Lava formations.  43 miles of twisting turning roads. Some call it the most scenic road trip of all.  And it was.  I call it 'Hot dogs and Vomit'.   It does have scenic views.  It also has hot dogs and vomit.  Just trying to be clear.  (On a side note, I'm thinking of a career in marketing.  I'll let you know how that works out for me.)











This is by far, the farthest I have traveled for a 5k.  The hotels are filled with people who are competing in the marathon and half marathon, checking another state off their list.  I feel a swell of pride when I mention, "Yeah, I'm here for the 5K." Then they know that I, too, am a serious athlete.  We have to stick together.

Aloha.