In 1980 I entered my first Honolulu Marathon when my father, an avid runner, encouraged me to run it with him. At the start-line, I told him, "Dad, just run ahead. Don't slow down for me. I'll see you at the finish-line." As he raced forward, my eyes followed him until he disappeared from my sight.
Five and a half hours later, I found myself struggling up the long gradual incline of Kahala Avenue, with finish-line and father still out of sight. I was totally exhausted and I still had to get up and over Diamond Head, aka "Heartbreak Hill."
When I finally reached the Triangle Park, (at the very same spot our CTE group stopped to chant), I saw my Dad, smiling and waiting for me. Tired and out of breath, I gasped, "Don't stop! Go! Cross the finish-line!" My Dad calmly replied that that was what he had already done, but sensing that I might need some support, he had run back up Diamond Head to find me and help me finish. OMG...that's so Malama!
As my Dad proceeded to accompany me up my last hill, I complained, "It's so hot! This sun is killing me!" Without saying a word, he adjusted his position, allowing me to complete my run in the comforting shade of his shadow. Now, that's Aloha.
In my teaching, I will challenge my students, but when they struggle, I will remember to malama with aloha.
18 hours ago
Wow Chelsea that is Malama in so many ways!!! It is truly amazing how when our feet return to our footprints that are embedded in the land, the memories that are stored in our ancestral memory return and take us back to the exact same day. Mahalo nui for sharing.
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