I’m waiting at the start line, surrounded by hundreds of people wearing all sorts of neon colored shoes, running shorts or a hula skirt, and a unique number safety pinned onto the front of their shirt. Its 6am and the Kona sunrise over the ocean is breathtaking. Everyone is stretching in the last few minutes we have before crossing the start line which is a huge blow up arch that says “Kona Family Runs, Half-Marathon, and Marathon”. It is at least 12 feet tall and bright orange. Everyone starts pushing towards the start line as a gunshot is fired to signal the beginning of the race. I slowly walk towards it and notice a stage with announcers placed in a row behind a large table, their voices booming over the loud speakers along with some energizing music. As the crowd starts to disperse, I begin jogging and start the “bob and weave” in order to find a space between people where I can stay at a steady pace. As my strides get longer and my breathing gets heavier I get into my rhythm.

The first mile is a breeze, just like the air that is blowing through my hair. Its cooling compared to the heat from the sun that is slowly rising higher and higher into the sky. I reach the first water station and take a cup from a young looking man who is cheering me on. I walk a bit as I sip the water and step over used cups that had been thrown on the ground. I add to the pile by throwing my cup on the ground. I slowly begin to run again and have plenty of time to take in the scenery. I follow the black pavement course which is right along the ocean and makes for a magnificent view and a good distraction. The smell of ocean fills my nostrils. It is slightly salty with a hint of fishy but it’s sweet at the same time. There are long periods of time where all I have around me is ocean with large buildings in the distance. I run through some small towns and pass a restaurant I ate at the previous night. It smells like BBQ chicken and fish. The smell makes my mouth water but I still have many miles to go. I notice the sign for mile 3 as the first marathoner begins to come back. I move out of the way as he sprints by me. He would have run 23 miles in the time I ran 3 miles (plus and hour). His finishing time was 1:30, for the marathon.

I pass through many residential areas where the locals have set up cheering stations with lawn chairs and maracas and other noise makers. Those who don’t have noise makers just yell things like “You go girl!” and “Go Team Challenge!” I reach a water station that is manned by special-ed kids. They have the biggest smiles out of everyone I have seen at any water station so far. The sight of them is even more motivating than the 5 mile marker I see in front of me. I begin to space out and start thinking about when I would get to the turn around. I am startled when a lady who is also wearing a Team Challenge jersey begins to talk to me. We run together for many miles and talk about our lives. We discuss our training, how many half-marathons we had done (it was the first for both of us), and our lives at home. Talking to her made time and space go by really quickly and before we knew it we were at the turn around point which was in the middle of a huge parking lot.. 6.6 miles to go. I lost the lady I was running with at the turn around so I began to run alone again. I notice things that I didn’t before when I passed them. There was a Donkey Balls shop with a huge fake donkey in front holding a sign with an advertisement for the delicious chocolate covered balls they sold. There were huge hotels that took up most of the beach. I remember passing the most beautiful gate that had iron sea turtles and fish plastered onto it.
When I reach the 10 mile marker, I notice that the fatigue is starting to set in. The sun beating down on me, sweat dripping down my forehead, my calves are burning. It’s hard to imagine running 3.2 more miles. My options are to give up and walk or push through. I decide to run a bit more. I am then startled as I notice a lady pass-out on the side of the road. I didn’t know if I should help her or keep going. Someone runs up to her and calls the ambulance. I slow down and watch to make sure she is okay. She is carried off to get medical help. That image is branded in my mind. I run another mile for her. At mile 12 I see my friend and training buddy McKenna. She tells me that she is not feeling good and doesn’t think she can run anymore. She stuck with me through the whole training process so I was going to stick with her through the end of the half marathon.

We walk the last mile, laughing, talking, and sweating under the Hawaiian sun. The finish line appears in the distance and we decide to run the last .2 miles so that it looked like we ran the whole way. There are tons of people crowded around the finish line which was a wooden arch that was covered in Hawaiian flowers. We cross the finish line together and are greeted with cheers and high-fives from all around. I see my mom in the distance. I am overwhelmed with the fact that I just ran 13.2 miles and that my mom is right there to congratulate me along with hundreds of other people. Tears begin to roll down my cheeks as a medal of completion and a puka shell necklace are draped over my neck. I notice the camera crew taking pictures of the finishers and wipe away the tears. I put on my best smile and pose for my picture with McKenna, my finishing buddy and lifelong friend. Our time was 2 hours and 32 minutes, just 2 minutes over my goal time. If I had ran the last mile I would have gotten under my goal time. But I am glad I walked with McKenna because the memory of my wonderful half-marathon experience will last a life time.