Mahalo, whoever you are, you wonderful soul who checked my site as visitor number 50,000 today. Lavagal.net got lots of hits today. It might get to 100 before I sign off. I’m grateful, even if it might be mostly paranoid people who want to know about getting calls and texts all hours of the day because they suspect their phone number used to belong to a drug dealer. That does seem to be the most popular entry, but statistics indicate that today’s hits are by people curious about Achilles tendon and knee injuries, the Waikiki Rough Water Swim, bicycling in Hawaii, and Lavagal this and Lavagal that.
So I better put up a new and fresh entry to keep the intrigued interested. There’s a New York Times essay this week called On Being Nothing by Thomas Hobbes, who looks like a handsome young gun, too young to have such a firm grasp on insignificance. Yes, his Opinionator piece spoke to me. I write to leave a mark, to spray a wall of words across your minds to assure I’m not that insignificant. People write to be read, and tonight one of my Try Fitness teammates told me she writes a secret unpublished blog. I write my secrets and notes to myself on my Wunderlist app and at wunderlist.com. But the blog is my frantic wave in the crowd, a hand trying to catch your attention, tossing keywords and photos to lure you to click my link.
Tonight I did a 500-meter swim in 11 minutes, and I did some running sprints with my Try Fitness Hawaii teammates in preparation for the Sunday Na Wahine Festival. I don’t run fast. I now use the Galloway Method, so I do a run-walk pace. It keeps my tendons and knee cap intact. It also has a profound effect on me. It humbles me. It could depress me, but I can’t let it. I am the only person who has time to turn on my iPhone camera app to take a photograph of the Japanese newly weds watching the sunset from Magic Island. While some of my teammates were doing sub-2-minute 400s, I was doing it in three. As they finished their third round, I told my coach, KC Carlberg, that I didn’t need to get out of bed on Sunday. Why bother? I’m never gonna get on a podium again.
“You gotta write your blog entry, that’s why!” she told me. It’s funny. More of my teammates are reading, so I hope they are encouraged. I am at that place where I want to do better, I want to be faster, but I know that it’s only natural that those who are younger and less damaged will do better. But if I don’t do so great in these events, these attempts to prove I am still athletic, that I’m not going limp into old age, I can still try to win a place in your heart with words arranged just so right here. Love, me.