Running has made O’ahu feel like home. Whether it is exploring a new path or hitting the same trail, the process lays down roots. Running has led me to new friends and the familiar joy of long-run-conversations, and it has become my “Third Place.” A Third Place is a term coined by sociologist Ray Oldenburg, and it’s a space outside of work and outside of home that is easily accessible, zero to little cost, and often revolves around the same time/day where people can mutually meet on common ground. At run clubs around the island, I get to show up, leave whatever happened that day with my phone in the car, and follow trails with familiar faces and new ones. Together, we shake out the day.
Before my first run club on the island, I chickened out. I made a last-minute decision to stay home in my PJs and eat chips in bed. I am very familiar with that pre-sports-practice feeling: rarely are you in the mood to go, but once you get yourself there and move your body with teammates, you rarely regret it. So, the second time I summoned up the courage despite massive resistance. I scoped out the Instagram page and zoomed into the pictures to catch the vibe of the group. I picked out my outfit hours before. I made sure to get there 15 minutes early to make sure I was in the right area. I had way too many butterflies when I parked my car, so I waited to get out by texting my family group chat about what I was about to do. When other runners showed up on the street corner, we mostly looked at our shoes and waited for others to get there.
I felt so nervous that it reminded me of the first few days of high school, that awkward freshman year energy: You don’t know where your class is or what your teacher's name is. You have the courage to sit with new people in the cafeteria hall because you have no choice - you have no friends (yet). Walking up to the run club I felt like the new kid and wondered if anyone else knew it too. I had just moved to O’ahu and I didn’t know anyone else on the island.
I moved to the island because I felt drawn towards the way of life in Hawaii: the values, the nature, and the way it all made me feel closer to my own self. For example, it seemed everyone was more in touch with nature and that socializing revolved around outdoor activities instead of material things. I didn’t have a logical reason that I could explain to people why I was moving to the island - like a job, a partner, or school. I was moving from an intuition. I remember feeling embarrassed because, of course everyone wants to live in Hawaii - the weather is amazing, the land is beautiful - it’s paradise. But my desire was something beyond wanting to live in what everyone calls paradise. It felt like a question that I had to know the answer to, and I couldn’t let go of it. “What if this thing that you can’t stop thinking about is something you need to listen to?” So, I slingshot myself across the Pacific Ocean to see if I could make it work.
The week before my flight I could only stomach gluten free waffles. The entire flight there I was nauseous. When I took a Lyft from the airport to my Airbnb, I wondered if I was crazy. What if I took this whole “follow your heart” thing too far?
Once I got to the island, I had to find a place to live, a car to drive, and people to be my friends. (If only that process was as easy as typing that sentence). I took the bus or walked everywhere - the spot where I was staying was not convenient for either, but I had made my best guess on where to stay for a month to figure my life out as quickly as I could. A lot of people were uncomfortable with my decision to go and see what happens, but I felt clear that I could not make these decisions until I was on the island.
I remember standing at a gas station in Honolulu two weeks in and realizing how uncomfortable I had felt. I was borrowing a friend of a friend’s car that she was lending to me while I figured my life out. Just putting the nozzle in the car, I felt this full-body-relief. The simple act of pressing the gas buttons was this familiar thing that I knew how to do. I had been walking around like a lost freshman searching google maps and apartment listings, not knowing where on the planet I really was. Finally, having four wheels to drive and pumping gas felt like this thing I knew how to do. When you’re at home, you can shut your brain off and go on cruise control. Traveling, particularly alone, all your senses are firing. Plus, you have that extra, nagging don’t-mess-this-up anxiety that makes you triple check that you have your keys in your backpack pocket and that you have the right google map location set. I have never been so happy with such a menial task as that day I pumped gas in Honolulu.
Once I found an apartment to live in and a cheap beach car to drive, I no longer questioned if I had made the decision or not - I knew it was right and I had to just keep plugging along. I think when you know intuitively you want something, you search for ways to make it work against all odds - even when people around you are wondering what the hell you’re thinking.
Since moving to the island, I have learned the Hawaiian word na’au. Your na’au is your gut instinct. The ability to hear your na’au can be difficult to comprehend because it’s about trusting in something intangible.
“One of the harder-to-grasp definitions of aloha is your ability to listen to yourself without judgment and believe that you know what needs to be done. It’s difficult to comprehend because it’s about trusting in something intangible: your na’au. Aloha is our inner connection to ourselves…It’s being able to be in that whatever-happens-happens mindset…At its purest, aloha is an awareness of your surroundings, and the faith that you know how to be your very best.” - “Island Wisdom” by Kainoa Daines and Annie Daly
I think one of the best ways to grow the ability to hear your na’au and to trust yourself is to look back at the times you took a risk, at the times you bet on yourself, and to see the way it worked out. The funny thing about life is, when things work out, we look at all ways the next thing could go wrong, or we forget about all the major fails that it took to get to where we currently are.
I hope this blog post helps remind you to bet on yourself.
The act of running is something that:
1) Helps me trust myself and...
2) Comforts me no matter where I am.
The simple process of tying my running shoelaces never fails to be a subtle thrill and familiar feeling. Even when I’m not in the mood to move my body, the anticipatory “let’s see what this run does for me” pulls me out the door. With each repetition of my feet hitting the ground, I shake out dust in my head that’s not meant to be there anymore.
When I am outdoors moving my body, I come home to myself.
Lucinda Caldwell
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© 2026 KAVU
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