I tell people now that I use to run some. I often get odd looks when I say these things. Not that I was ever really a runner, but I put in some miles.
Sometimes, I try to explain the link between running and that period in my life – when I was bouncing back and forth between Iraq, stress levels were high, and I was here and there between the islands, the mainland, and Europe and the Middle East.
I ran everywhere.
There was that day, when we made a trip out to the Seven Sacred Pools at Ohe’o, and I up and ran farther up a volcano, in order to visit Waimoku Falls.
Are the falls anything spectacular? Mmmm, maybe. But the journey there is spectacular – running through a bamboo forest that seemingly stretched on and on and on.
I don’t miss the running. I miss the runs.