My Run to Tokyo’s Haneda Airport (from Shibuya!)

So I’m finally able to sit and write, alone with my thoughts, sitting among the crowd here at ABC Brewing Company’s Abbey Bar.  Funny how I’m actually able to work when the world is thundering around me.  It won’t be polished, but I’ve been trying to write this message since arriving to the US in July.  Even when prompted by friends, I was unable to commit to paper the emotions surrounding this most recent stateside return.  My previous post was done just before leaving my Tokyo apartment, good old Tomigaya.  And though I admitted it to no one, it was one of farewell.

Tokyo will always be one of my greatest achievements.  Living there as a child, and growing there as an adult.  Memories inspired great moves and permanent life changes.  But Tokyo isn’t the most rewarding city, filled with people who work far more than they play.  So a realization that the time to move had come on.

Scheduled as a extended vacation, I booked flights through Haneda’s new International Airport, which as it turns out, may not be worth the savings.  Flights depart at 7am to the east coast of the US.  7am in Tokyo means you’re stuck taking a cab ($150) or spending the night in a hotel ($200).  Neither of these tickled my fancy, so I came up with a different method.  Run.

I’m a big fan on Tokyo night walks.  I know it’s hard to imagine, but in a city safe as Tokyo, you can literally walk for hours through the night with no danger.  It also helps that I’m a jacked foreigner, so I apologize to all the locals I frightened during THEIR night walks.  But I’d walked and ran upwards of ten miles throughout the city in a shot, so I casually began mapping a route to Haneda I felt I could live with.  No highways, obviously, but large streets.  In the event that a leg broke off, I could hop a cab onwards.    Thankfully, that wasn’t necessary, because I didn’t actually see a single cab after passing Ebisu.

I shipped my luggage ahead of time using a courier service.  It’d be waiting for me next to Check-In.  There was a lounge I was welcomed to use, complete with showers, massage chairs, and that pleasant Japanese styled background music.  If you’ve lived in Japan, you know what I’m talking about.  I had my backpack, my running shoes, and a change of clothes.

The plan was to leave at midnight from Shibuya.  I lived near Yoyogi Park, so the route would take me through roughly thirteen miles of Tokyo’s streets.  What an amazing challenge!  But minutes before leaving, an all out downpour ensued…shite.  My French roommate somehow fashioned a plastic raincoat for my bag, but I was left to the elements.  I set out, an hour late, sights fixed on passing through Shibuya’s famous crossing, a quick wave at Hachiko, and then on South.

Shibuya is nearly always bright as day.  At any hour, enormous advertisement screens light the area.  Since I was an hour behind schedule, I passed through quickly, finding one of those sketchy little paths that ran along the Yamanote Line.  This, I would follow, for the next hour of the journey.  Keep in mind I’m a jacked foreigner, my pace is not that of a Marathoner.

It was through this process, remaining at street level, staying connected to my city, that I could work through the thoughts and realization I might be saying goodbye for a long while.  I know the world is small, and flights leave every minute, but I was saying goodbye to an unbelievable period of my life.  Arriving alone to the city millions, experiencing the earthquake on 3.11, packing my shit during the nuclear threat, and living the daily wakeup shakes of a thousand aftershocks.  It was, an unreal, six months…but still thankful I stuck around.

Along the run, I was listening to an album that only God know how I received.  I’d gotten an email out of the blue offering a free download.  The band was called Start Your Own Rebellion.  What a name!  The track that hit home was “Let It Go”.  Check out it, have a listen while you read on.  It was this that moved me through the night, knowing without doubt the decision I made was right.  That I was caught up in something much, much bigger than when I began this Vision Quest back in 2008.

There was only one point that got a little hairy along that run, and it happened somewhere around hour 2.  A wall of depression hit me hard with the realization I’d not get a chance to say “see ya” to the Tokyo Tower.  It was always a symbol of my Tokyo, as it is for many.  I recalled my first landing in Tokyo, overcast with no view, August 1991.  We stayed at the ANA Hotel in Akasaka, and from there, a view of the Tower.  My original route took me near the Tower, but I’d altered said route and forgot!!!  Not a second had passed that an opening in the buildings came on, and revealed a straight shot at the Tower.  I was miles away, but there she was.  Red and White with strobing lights.  That strobing heartbeat of Tokyo, visible like the changing currents of the sea.  I love it.  It was a reassuring moment along what was becoming a difficult passage.

Making my way closer to Haneda, I could begin to see a new orange glow to the sky.  I decided this was coming from the oil refineries, which would be just offshore.  Hanada too, would be just offshore, so I knew I was getting close.  And with a hopeful hard Left, I made my way to what I assumed was the approach of Haneda’s International Terminal.  Since it was a new addition to the map, Google didn’t have the exact street marked.  If I was wrong, a costly two-mile correction would be in order.  But as I neared the final bridge, I could see a clear path to the Terminal.  I was now only a mile away.

I sprinted the last mile, winding through an overgrown service path.  It’s likely that no man or woman had ever walked this path, and likely none since.  Even the Police drove by without noticing me.  There was really no reason for anyone to be running here!  It was pouring rain, nearing 4am, and did I mention NO ONE else in the world had ever been here?!

But upon reaching the Terminal, a sense of accomplishment washed over me like nothing before!  I wanted to scream and tell the world what I’d just done.  It was an amazing feat for a jacked foreigner.  I wonder if anyone else had ever tried this?  I showered, hit the currency exchange and checked in, telling everyone in Japanese what I’d just done.  They thought I wasn’t speaking correctly, but sure enough, I just fucking ran here from Shibuya.  Gaijin smash!

I boarded that flight with time to spare.  And nearly screamed again when the door closed and I had two empty seats next to me.  I slept for ten of twelve hours on that flight, fully reclined, balled up like a child under his blanket.  I slept on that day because I knew nothing else would compare.  I welcome new challenges and look on with wide eyes and an open mind to my future.  But on that day…fuck…that day was just tops.

And so I’m still stateside, not hating my life, but holding a firm grasp on what it is I need out of life.  The thrill of moving back and forth will never fade.  I love splitting my time between two places.  It’s part of being a TCK.  And in each place, it’s always been the people who made it all worth it.  And right now, it’s the people stateside that deserve my attention.

Peace be to you, Brothers and Sisters of the world.  I’ll see you around.