These are great destinations but I went to each city to run 26.2 miles. In London the Marathon took me 5 hours 22 minutes. I was hardly able to walk from dizziness. I was three hours behind the winners. It was raining. One English gentleman gave me his coat and walked beside me the last three miles. Time is your constant companion in London – you start at Greenwhich where all time starts (the Greenwich Mean), pass by Big Ben along the way and clock yourself constantly. Each second for the winners is a world record; each hour for the rest of us is a time to face our pain, frailty, boredom, and beat them.

Life is said to be a "long distance" race and marathoning is as good a way as any and perhaps a better way than most to find out what you have in you for that race of life. So off to Honolulu.

At 3:30 a.m. on Sunday, December 13, my gold alarm goes off and the jogging duds, band-aids, vaseline, and shoes go on. It’s only 4 a.m. when the bus or limo leaves for the starting point, Aloha Tower, and 4:30 when one is "checking in." At 4:45 fervent and tearful farewells are bade one’s loved ones and friends, and at 5:00 a.m. we start toward the staging area. Here I mingle with those who plan to finish at about the same time I do (which for me was 4 ½ hours). At 5:30 I am fretting about pains and blisters, laughing at the sheer idiocy of what I’m about to embark on, crying with fear. It’s 5:55 when the fireworks explode in the sky and the first strains of "The Star Spangled Banner" allow me to forget my fear and huddling in the darkness, fall silent, overcome with a feeling of being very blessed, very special, and very close to God. At 6:00 the howitzer goes off and the front runners start. It’s a good three minutes before I, at the end of the pack, begin the long 26 miles 385 yards through Honolulu. The Hawaiians are already out clapping, their Christmas trees lighting the way through downtown Waikiki. Why are they up at this hour? They’ve never seen us before, may never again, but unlike any other city, these people are cheering us on – well wishers to a pack of pre-dawn flapping birds.

We settle into our pace as the sun begins to light our way up Diamond Head and out to Kahala. The beauty of the mountains on one side, the flowers on the other sustain us till our first aid station which is at 5 miles, 21 to go. We go on with defizzed coke, water and support from the volunteers who man the stations. They make us feel loved, and never in the 4 hours, 28 minutes that I ran, did they flag in their support. Then there’s the sense of humor of some of the runners. I pass one Santa Claus, eight Reindeer, four Hula Dancers, six Pink-Shirted Hollywooders, and one Nun. There are musicians playing for us and people in chairs watching the spectacle over a Bloody Mary on their front lawns. At 9 miles, we enter the freeway on our way to Hawaii Kai. The winners are on their way back, which is a thrill one doesn’t see in any other marathon. We slow turtles applaud them as the breeze from the Pacific starts blowing and valed mountains cool us.

…and the friends one makes! There are 9000 entries in the Honolulu Marathon, and I am running with two women from the nearby island of Kuaiu. They tell me of the exquisite, lonely untouched beauty of their island, and after 15 miles of running together, ask me to come to their island with them after we finish. We learn more about each other in those 15 miles than in a lifetime of being next-door neighbors. For it is said, "Marathoning is a reflection of your whole life," how you quit or keep going, how you deal with pain and joy.

And on to Paris.

By Tina