In May 2021, I purchased a pair of green and pink rollerblades a few weeks after moving to the North Shore of Oahu. These are the rollerblades my fourth-grade self only could have dreamed of. My friends, Mallory and Shannon, had rollerblades already, so we formed our own "blade gang" along with a few other neighborhood friends in Waialua. We'd go rollerblading on sunny summer evenings when we all lived within a block of each other. Unfortunately, these rollerblades were anything but cheap. I'll acknowledge I paid almost entirely for aesthetics, and when the blade gang was together, we all had the same style just in different colors. Still, the total was just over $150, which is outrageous. As summer 2021 came to a close, Mallory and Shannon were preparing to move, and I was worried I wouldn't continue to use my rollerblades. At one point, I had gone a couple of weeks without using them at all. I always wanted to use them, but it was so easy to let them sit in my closet. So, in late July, I decided to create a challenge: "150 Days of Rollerblading." If I was successful, I figured I would lower my rollerblades' "cost per use" significantly. I did what I do best — I made a chart to illustrate my goal and got going. In mid-October, I hit 50 days of rollerblading. Right before I left for the mainland for Thanksgiving and Christmas, I hit 75 days of rollerblading. Around Valentine's Day, I hit 100 days of rollerblading. Just 5 days before moving off the island (on April 22), I hit 150 days of rollerblading. To commemorate this experience, I wrote the following poem. the girl who rollerblades every day she passes by wheels hitting the pavement in sync with the notes in her ears the Waianae mountains a perfect backdrop to a quiet island life she breathes in the salt air of this place she loves every day she passes by her path consistent and predictable she signals the fast approach of sunset every day she passes by the senior dog no longer raises his head the local cat on patrol stares lazily she is a regular around here every day she passes by tenants hold open the back gate neighbors call from their porches grandmas smile at a foregone hobby she reminds them of youth, innocence, simplicity, and endless summer fun every day she passes by for her and others around her, this has become an identity who you are when people see you on the street the descriptor they’d use to tell their friend about you the mom with the stroller, the old mailman, the tan surfer, the boy who plays basketball every day she passes by and for that ten-minute window each day she is the girl who rollerblades
