Mike Pak has a habit of going into things blind. Actually, it’s more like sprinting headlong into things blind. It started with Koreatown Run Club, which he co-founded with Duy Nguyen five years ago. Suddenly the pair found themselves leading a pack of 20 runners around their neighborhood, pointing out restaurants, planning new routes, organizing post-run drinks. The twist? They both swear they hate running. “It’s a love-hate relationship,” Pak explains, “but that’s the beauty of Run Club: everyone holds each other accountable.” Which might explain how Pak ended up in his first marathon, which he ran with 30 other KRC runners having maxed out at 15 miles in training. Last year, he went and signed himself up for five of them, blazing through them on one massive world tour.
He brought the same energy to Love Hour, a burger pop-up that he and Nguyen started up with restaurateur Jimmy Han with zero service experience under their belts. (It’s a hit.) Then one night, a slightly inebriated Pak committed himself to organizing a bicycle group to deliver meals to the unhoused in L.A.—now a twice-a-week operation with donations from local restaurants. All the guy does is get the gears turning, and suddenly he’s got full-blown businesses on his hands. It all comes together on his Instagram handle, @koreatown, a hub for all things K-Town that Pak often uses as a springboard to cull volunteers or send out Love Hour missives. It’s become so popular, Nguyen often jokes that Pak is the Unofficial Mayor of Koreatown.
But public office—even an imaginary one—is no walk in the park, and Pak spends most of his time dashing between appointments to keep all the balls in the air. Mondays and Fridays are for Bicycle Meals, while Wednesdays and Saturdays are spent at the Love Hour griddle. Sunday afternoons, you can find him organizing the blocks he and Duy have set up for KRC so their runners can do their thing in small, socially-distant groups. GQ called him up to find out where he gets the energy to keep it all going.
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GQ: Are you doing Koreatown Run Club right now?
Mike Pak: Because of COVID, we set up blocks: We post a sign-up link Sunday afternoon, and you sign up for whatever your pace is. Each group maxes out at about eight to nine people. We meet only on Monday nights, and we have eight captains that we pick every week. Each captain has their own block in Koreatown, and they get to pick their own route.
Do you run on your own, outside of the club?
Running on your own is tough but it's very therapeutic. I'll probably run another once or twice a week. Mid-week Wednesday, and I'll try to catch something on Friday during the morning. Three miles is my cap right now, because it’s just hard to be consistent.
You and Duy, who you founded KRC with, famously hate running.
Oh my God, I fucking hate it! It's a love-hate relationship. I still have a constant battle with being consistent and really owning up to it. That's the beauty of Run Club: everyone holds each other accountable. When I first moved to L.A., all I was thinking about was partying. When we started the club, I was, like, Wow, this is what I was missing in my life. I had these obligations now. Maybe I shouldn’t drink today ‘cause I have to wake up tomorrow morning and 20 people are gonna show up and ask me questions about what we’re doing. It changed my mindset in terms of what mattered and what I needed for myself.
You guys ran your first marathon a few years back. What was that like?
In Run Club, we're almost like peer-pressuring bullies. We can sense, you know, it's your first time, we'll bring you in, make you comfortable. That's when we got you. We go, “Oh, sick, you love running with us, we've seen you consecutively the past three weeks. It's time for you to run a marathon.” That's our tactic. The first time we did it, I think we got, like, 30 people to sign up for the marathon, and they'd all never run one in their life. I'd never run more than five miles, so good fucking luck. That was the whole concept: if we can do it, you can do it. People busted their ass. It was a grueling couple months of training. Here's the kick: I never trained. I got up to maybe 15 miles one time, and I was, like, “Fuck it, that's all I need. I'll figure out the next 11 miles on my own. It's just all heart and grit.” The first one was the toughest I've ever done. Fast forward last year, I was, like, “I'm gonna fucking show everyone I still got this 'cause I'm a fucking athlete.” So I sign up for five fucking marathons. I don't train for a single one of them. We got invited to China, I did L.A. twice, I did Chicago, and to end the year I did Hawaii.
I didn't have any injuries, which is crazy. I should have. I don't recommend anyone doing that. I couldn't have done it without Duy, who's my number one supporter, and he thinks I'm crazy. He thinks I'm gonna die because I don't train. Two marathons, he sat me down and was, like, "Listen, this next one...I'm serious, you're gonna have a heart attack. Don't do this anymore to yourself." I wanna do all these things and prove to people that I'm fucking crazy. But the flip side is: Hey, I can do it, you can do it too. Let me give you any kind of positive reinforcement or energy towards reaching your goal.
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This past year we had our record number, I think it was 65 or 70 people that haven't run did the marathon for the first time. It looked like a mob running out. Every year it's gonna get crazier because we believe in them.
Do you do any injury prevention to try and cushion that blow?
My body's beat up. For maintenance, I get a lot of massages. I used to do a massage once a week. After a marathon I'll shower and go straight to a masseuse and they'll just work on my legs and I'll be fine the next day. I do a lot of cold showers, hot showers. I used to do a lot of saunas when I was sore. Right now, I have a roller that I use on my body, and I have one of those massage guns, which I use constantly.
You also run a bicycle meal delivery program for the unhoused in Koreatown. Does that mean you’re biking 24/7?
I ride my BMX bike seven days a week, mostly to run errands. Right now Bicycle Meals is Fridays and Mondays, but the goal is doing seven days flat-out. Recently one of the guys that rides with us was, like, “Hey man, me and my girl want to pack lunches on Sundays and ride out on Mondays,” so we added Mondays. We’ll need more people like him to come in and take more days, but it’s awesome having a small group and seeing it expand.
As the leading purveyor of food tips in one of the best food neighborhoods in L.A., what does an average day of eating look like for you?
Breakfast is the healthiest meal of the day for me. It’s gonna be an egg omelet with a lot of vegetables. Celery juice or any kind of green juice, any turmeric shot, I go to the juice store and stock up to wash that down in the morning.
I don’t touch snacks, ‘cause I’m already hooked up for lunch. Lunch for me is, like, “Okay, let’s fucking go.” I just wanna eat stuff that’ll put me to sleep. It’s usually a restaurant in Koreatown. That’s where my money goes: into local businesses. If it’s fast I’ll go to Pollo a la Brasa next to my house, or BCD Tofu. Or I’ll go heavy and get a gnarly black bean noodle, which is called jajangmyeon.
Korean BBQ is top of my list for dinner. I just love being around people—not during this time, but in general. Any large gathering where we can all drink and have fun. If I know I have a big day the next day or I have to work out, I’ll have a light dinner. I hate to say it, I try to fit a salad in there, or a green smoothie before I go to sleep.
How do you keep up on places to recommend—are you always trying new places?
I just love the neighborhood. I’m Korean American, but I grew up in Virginia, and there’s so many things I don’t know about my culture. I ask restaurant owners about their story and their upbringing and how they got started. I’ll pick up a new dish and run back to the restaurant and go, “Hey, what is this? How do you pronounce it?” I’m not shy or anything. I feel like it’s up to me to share these stories.
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