You're like a rollercoaster

... it's the most unbelievable ride

I've been biking. Thanks, Ross, for fixing up a bike for me and teaching me to ride it and pestering me endlessly to do so and being really patient with my whining and ass-dragging.

How to ride bikes with Stephanie, as experienced by Ross:

1. Fix up a bike, because S won't do it herself.
2. Pester S for several days to ride it, because she won't ride it herself.
3. Take S to an empty parking lot in the middle of the night, because she won't ride in public in the daytime, and teach her to ride the thing, because she won't teach herself.
4. Pester S for another ride, because she won't suggest one herself. Include a food destination.
5. Re-inflate S's tires, adjust her brakes, and oil her chain for her, for guilting purposes, when pestering loses efficacy.
6. Guilt-pester S for another ride that includes a food destination, but this time do it when she's stressed out and hungry and in need of exercise because of her period. And make her go really, really far this time to maximize "I think I actually enjoy this" revelations.
7. Sit back and wait, because S now will finally have bicyconfidence.

Tonight's ride, Ross' mansion to Beretania Street to Thai garage (Bangkok Chef), was a beautiful journey at about 7:30 PM. Light traffic, light breeze, moderate pace. Clear sky. I'm getting the hang of finding the appropriate gear. It's not as difficult as driving a standard-transmission car, so that's good. I hit the McCully bridge hard. Yesss. When we got to the food place, I was warm and kind of sweaty, but not winded and I could hold a conversation the whole ride. I'm not in as bad shape as I feared. Whew. Thanks, dance class (The Dance Space). King Street to make it back to Ross' place, where my bike lives. Another beautiful ride, made it over the McCully bridge again even with a belly full of curry and bamboo shoots and rice, but I wussed out on the Metcalf hill and had to walk it over the ultra steep part. One day... one day soon...

I've also been beach-ing. Thank you, Ryan Miyash, for dragging my sorry butt to Waimea Bay and for buying me Matsumoto shave ice and playing awesome car tunes.

Ryan Miyash has a wonderful resolution: GO TO THE BEACH ONCE A WEEK MINIMUM. I think I'd better adopt that. It's a dedicated time to relax -- one simply can't stay all the way stressed out at the beach in Hawai'i, it's just not possible -- and it's a time to appreciate the splendor of living in tropical paradise. Sure, I live here and it's hard work to make it and that's why I can't enjoy Hawai'i as much as the visitors do, but I can make an effort to get out and revel in the beauty a lot more than I have been.

Life's a beach. No, really. There are loudmouth uglies in too-small beachwear, there are cigarette butts, there are jellyfish. But, there is warm sun, clear blue sky, crystal water and weightless oblivion.

Life is also a bike ride. There are ups, there are downs, there are potholes, there are assholes. But there are also cool nights with the city sparkling around you, and you are singing into the wind at 30 miles an hour.

More.