I was jogging down the two lane road hoping my bright pink shoes and green hoodie was enough to keep me from being painted on the front of the truck zooming by. One should be weary of running so close to the edge while cars drove 40 mph and above, but on this muggy morning in Lihue, a gust of wind is exactly what I needed.
Now, most of you are probably thinking, “But Marlie, don’t you hate working out? Were you being chased? Did someone die and you chose you too would like to feel a brief moment of death while your heart beats sporadically out of your chest and the sweat stings your eyeballs?” No. Sometimes, not often, I like to pretend I like working out. I ponder about how much I enjoy dancing, hiking, light biking and yoga and I think “it’s nice out so let’s go for a run!”. Running usually looks like jogging that becomes a walk that leads to dry heaving within a matter of minutes but hey, I gave it a try right? And I got a couple rad pictures to show for it.
Hawaii was a place that could convince you to be your best self. Your most active, beach going, free sprinted self and that’s exactly what I did. I’ve been wanting to get into surfing for a while so after my run I looked into surfing lessons and to my misfortune they were a fortune. The lady at the surf shop, though she could tell I wasn’t willing to blow $185 on lessons, was bored therefore she gave me a quick rundown on the places near by with the best and cheapest boards, what’s worth it and what’s not.
Lesson 81.5: It’s easier to buy a board and look up lessons online and eventually find a friend that’s willing to give you a day lesson, for everything you need to learn about surfing comes from the basics and then just getting out there.
Needless to say I wasn’t buying a board on my layover so I trekked to the beach, stripped my sweaty running clothes and swam “laps” in the ocean until my arms turned to noodles. Luckily for me, the beach was rather empty. My favorite thing about Hawaii is no matter how touristy it may be, it’s always peaceful and relaxing. I stroked as waves crashed into my face and once it started raining I figured that was my signal. I gathered my things which were now damp and sandy and didn’t even bother running back considering I was already wet.
While getting food, there was another African American man in the restaurant sitting about three chairs over to my left. He took his food to-go like myself, then walked off. About five minutes later, when my food was ready, the attendant at the counter hands me my bag and says “Your dad was really funny!”
Slightly annoyed and wanting her to further explain herself to understand the absurdity in her comment, I played stupid and replied “Who?”
“Your dad, or uncle,” she says as she begins to stumble over her words, “the guy that, uh, just got his food?”
“You mean to tell me that you think the guy that got his food separate from me who didn’t speak one word to me while waiting for our meals who sat three chairs apart from me, you thought he was my father?”
“My mistake, have a nice day.”
Maybe it was slightly bitchy of me, but come on, don’t assume. My dad is happy as a clam in Columbus, Ohio but trust me, I wish he were here with me too.
My day concluded with a food coma as the rain trickled on the roof of the hotel right before we were back off to California. Like before, Hawaii’s lasting impression makes me yearn for a longer stay, however, part of me wonders if places like Hawaii ought to stay a paradise. Somewhere meant to visit for short periods of time because once you have it too much, it loses its charm, and damn is it charming.