Destination Race

Honolulu Marathon, Hawaii

It ’s at least 10 C too hot for an ideal marathon. You’ll have to wake up around 3 a.m. There’s a good chance it will rain. And you’ll have to run up the side of a volcano – and back down. Sounds idyllic, doesn’t it?

And yet, the Honolulu Marathon is a race that definitely needs to be on your bucket list . Whether it ’s an exc use to finally visit Hawaii, or a chance to wring the last few steps out of a year’s worth of training, Honolulu offers an experience seldom seen in North American races.

Run for the first time in 1973, the Honolulu Marathon, which takes place in early December, is part competition, part tourism experience. Because of the scarcity of marathons in Japan, and Hawaii’s proximity to the Land of the Rising Sun, there’s a huge Japanese contingent; 48 per cent of the 33,558 ent rants in 2018 came from Japan. Many Japanese tour groups offer travel packages that include on-course assistance, such as dedicated tents with chairs, food and anything else a runner might need. For many, it’s essentially a supported walking tour of Honolulu.

Dr. Michael Garrison, a local running coach and founder of t he Hawaii Running Lab, says the Japanese inf luence gives the race a different feel from most marathons.

“The starting area feels like an international course with race directions blasted over speakers in English as well as Japanese,” he says.

“There’s a ton of great energy at the start area with so many international r unners mixing i n wit h our loc a l runners.”

The race offers an early discounted sign-up for Hawaiians, that drives a lot of mid-January registrations – and a number of “how did I end up here?” faces at the start line 11 months later.

Speaking of t he st a r t l i ne: t he Honolulu Marathon starts at 5 a.m., which gives competitive runners a chance to take advantage of the lower temperatures. There’s also a glorious fireworks display as the race gets going. With no time limit, many of the entrants are in no rush to leave the start area; if you don’t want to dodge thousands of selfie sticks, line up near the front.

The race does attract serious competitors; it’s been a jumping off point for such marathon notables as 3-time Boston Marathon winner Ibrahim Hussein, and winner of the London, Berlin, New York and Tokyo marathons, Wilson Kipsang. You never know who you’ll see on course, in 2018 I ran past Edward Cheserek, who was out for a shakeout after winning the Kalakaua Merrie Mile the day before.

Honolulu is not exactly a PB course, but it is possible to do well; in 2018, I rode my intensive summer training through the fall, and finished fewer than three minutes off my personal best, finishing 87th overall.

“Be ready for the relative heat and humidity,” Garrison says. “The biggest mistake is not properly preparing for the heat and then trying to run a bit too fast in the opening 10k before the sun comes up. This is a massive pacing mistake that can lead to a tough day out on the course.”

The spectacle of the start continues through downtown Honolulu’s City Lights Christmas displays, and onto the Waikiki hotel district, before climbing

up part of the Diamond Head volcano at around 12k. If you can pace yourself to this point, you’re set up for success. From there it’s a combination of local neighbourhoods and some wider roads, so as the day goes along, it gets hot. Be sure to stay hydrated early, and take advantage of the ice and sponges on the course wherever you can.

The Honolulu Marathon isn’t an easy race; it’s actually the inspiration for the marathon portion of the Ironman triathlon. But if you run it properly, the payoff at the end – the view from Diamond Head at 40k, with the ocean stretching out forever, glassy blue and perfect – is worth the effort (if it’s not raining). And if that’s not enough, in addition to your finisher’s medal, you get a finisher’s tech shirt – and once you get a taste of the post-race malasadas (stuffed fried doughnuts), a banana will never taste the same. If you’re really hot, you can turn left, jog 30 feet, and jump into the Pacific Ocean to cool off, which isn’t a bad way to finish off a tough run in paradise.