By Chance Gusukuma

I'm not exactly the prototypical runner. I don't subscribe to any running magazines. I don't train with a road runners club. And I've never bothered to log my mileage. Maybe if I made more of a commitment to a regular running regimen, I'd impose some discipline on my casual exercise routine.

But then I might not relish running as much as I do now. I personally have no ambitions to run a marathon. I run for fun. And so I don't bust the seams on my pants.

For me, the seed was planted when I was a kid watching my dad run the old Pepsi 10K race in Mililani and then talk story with his running buddies afterwards. Running a decent time seemed somewhat important, but having fun seemed to be the main thing.

I think of running as a healthy (and cheap) form of stress relief. I don't know what four out of five doctors (or clinical researchers) say about endorphins, but I know that running makes me feel good. More than a few times, new ideas or fresh perspectives have percolated between my ears as I've built up a head of steam on a run. Once in awhile, a neat turn of a phrase will float, unbidden, into my head.

When I visualize old running routes, I immediately conjure up memories tied to them. In high school, I once forgot to bring my running shoes to a fun run; I ended up clomping 6.2 miles through Manoa in hightop basketball shoes.

Manoa was also the site of an all-night relay event that ended on the same day as my senior class graduation chapel service. I'm not saying I lived a sheltered life, but at the time, staying up all night, running, and sliding stiff-legged into a pew the next day constituted "edgy" behavior.

I wonder how much the paved pedestrian and bicycle path along the Tama River in western Tokyo has changed in 15 years. When I lived in Japan during the 1990-91 school year, my morning routine usually included jogging a couple of miles along the pathway. One mid-January morning, my host mother was awaiting my return and called out, "Hajimatta yo" ("It's started!"). We rushed inside to stare at the TV screen showing the skies aglow over Baghdad as the 1991 Persian Gulf War began.

Way back when I still could wake up early enough to run before work, I would stop do to a few pull-ups at the workout station just off of Diamond Head Road near Kapiolani Community College. It was quite the gathering place. I sometimes met up with a friendly husband and wife cleaning the paws of their dog after their morning walk. One day, I renewed acquaintances with my kindergarten teacher.

Nowadays, my modest evening run is a short, two-and-a-half mile jaunt around Kapiolani Park. Sometimes I jog. On other nights, I plod.

There are times when I shuffle along -- tired, stressed out or distracted. Almost invariably though, the thicket of troubles recedes from my mind as I break a sweat and settle into my stride. By the time I finish my run and cool down -- gazing up at the inky, twinkly sky -- I feel invigorated. The looming deadlines at work don't seem as daunting.

And the disorderly piles of bills, newspapers and laundry at home -- well, unfortunately, they're still sitting where I left them.

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