How does one humble blog so damn long? Is it the endurance athlete in me? Or the fame or fortune? Something all together different?
Before I tell you, a peek behind the curtains. I get inquires from East Indians with fake American names all the time, promising blogging glory though improved SEO, search engine optimization. Persistent buggers. I always say “no thank you” since I have no interest in monetizing this collection of knuckleheaded ideas. I have made zero effort to improve the site with an eye towards a larger readership. Which prob explains why I only get 100-200 site visits a day, except for the day I posted a picture of a bikini clad woman snowboarding. That day, my running posse probably accounted for 100-200 themselves.
Still, as I have written in the past, one of the coolest things about my small readership is the surprisingly high number of international readers, usually about 25% of the total. Por exemplar, for reasons I cannot explain, I’ve been blowing up in Singapore lately. I see you Singapore! Thank you!
But the best explanation for my literary longevity is that inevitably, whenever my enthusiasm wanes, someone says to me that they’ve appreciated something I’ve written. Almost always, someone who I had no idea was a reader.
Yesterday afternoon, capitalizing on beautiful weather, I walked to a meeting with a Certified Financial Planner whose office is by the Farmer’s Market. And then, on the way back, near Bayview Thriftway, a kitted up Roger materialized at the end of a ride. Roger lives in West Olympia so he was headed up the bridges and right by the Crib.
When he saw me, he pulled over to the curb and took his ear buds out. After our heartfelt bro handshake, he apologized for not having reached out during Lynn’s illness or since her passing. I told him not to worry about it, that that was okay. Would not have expected him too. He didn’t know Lynn and we hadn’t ridden together for sometime.
But, he said, with genuine emotion rare for the male species, he’d been reading the blog, “Even though it was really hard to at times.” Then he expressed the same appreciation that so many have, for me sharing our experience caring for Lynn in her final years, months, and days, as openly and honestly as possible.
And here’s the thing. Just maybe, absent my responsibilities for Lynn, absent professional responsibilities, absent any reason not to prioritize friendships, I’m learning to be present. Because I didn’t want to be anywhere else doing anything else. Buddhist-like contentment. My only time-related thought was how long Roger wanted to sit leaning on the curb clipped into one pedal.
After Roger shared a little bit about his own recent health struggles and Capital Forest mountain bike riding, he headed up and to the west, looking like a young Alberto Contador.
And I thought maybe this matters. And just maybe, I’ll continue.
Postscript. Another thing I don’t think I’ve ever done in lo’ these many years is ask readers for anything. Since streaks are made to be broken, let’s break that streak here and now. Be a Roger. Occasionally at least, when you read someone who moves you, let them know. It doesn’t necessarily have to be IRL as the kids say. Almost every online pub provides ways to leave comments. Resolve to leave a comment on occasion. It’s not hard. Not just here, but anywhere writers are trying to foster community. You may think your words of affirmation don’t amount to much, but au contraire.
Postscript 2. A more specific ask. Lately, I’ve been contemplating the advantages/disadvantages of this format versus starting a Substack. If you have an informed opinion, I’d be interested in hearing it. Thanks.
Postscript 3. Sometimes I amaze myself. Like when I spell “au contraire” correctly the first time. :)
Postscript 4. Today, Hong Kong SAR China is in the lead. East Asia/South East Asia battle royale!
Pressing Pause 