Groundhog Day

Here we go again…

Mohs surgery number nine I think?

I live in the skin cancer lottery. So far so good.

I have been playing in the water all my life. I was a high school P.E. teacher. I wore a hat after the age of about 50. Too late.

When I was a 16 year old surfer, the more burn I got, the cooler I was, and I burned. It’s Grandma Cooley’s fault. Irish skin.

All the above is true, and I still love the warm sun on my skin. I’ve been known to frequent a nude beach from time to time.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME???

I’m like a smoker who won’t quit. A drinker who won’t stop. Actually, I am a drinker who did stop. You’d think I would have more sense.

I do wear sun block now but it sweats off and I don’t replace it. After 10 miles or so in 90 degree plus heat, nothing matters except making it to the next tent site.

So, I play the lottery, hoping I keep losing. It’s possible, and I tell myself this very often, that the damage is already done. There is nothing I can do about it. That is a half truth.

I rarely burn. Really rarely. I hike the Appalachian Trail. It’s a green tunnel. That helps. At least I’m not spending much time on a board in the ocean or a board on a lake or in a kayak.

Truthfully, it’s my obsession to finish the AT that keeps me off the water. I’m always trading addictions. It’s my lot in life.

A pretty good lot.

I will be 69 next week. I really never thought I would make 45.

I’m a winner. I will keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Here. This blog post needs a photo.

😊

A. I.