September 22, 2009 --
By Olivia C. Rossi, RN, MSN, ACSM
Your Personal Trainer
My father’s garden is lush and tropical. He lives in a tucked-away little town on the Hilo side of the Big Island of Hawai’i called Pahoa. It’s on the rainy side of the island. His driveway is long and narrow. It cuts a slice of paradise through a domestic jungle replete with anthuriums, hibiscus, giant ferns, plumeria, flame red ginger, lilikoi trees and low leaning palms. I came to visit him and my cousin for two weeks.
Ever the exerciser, I saw an opportunity for an outdoor gym amidst this tropical delight of his garden. His driveway became my linear track. I was graced not only by the intoxicating fragrances of the Islands but also by the sounds of Hawai’i, birdsongs whose notes and melodies all seemed to begin with a “K” or an “L” or an “M” or a “P” just like the melifluous names of the islands, the flowers, the mountains and the towns . . . Kaua’i, Kilauea, Kanapali, Lana’i, Maile, Mauna Loa, Pikake, Poipu, Pahoa . . . I was up each morning at 6:00 o’clock. I like to be alone with the world for awhile before anyone else is up. It was delightfully cool and fresh in the early hours, in between the nightly rain and the daily rain.
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