Sunburn

A local organization called Healthy Communities of Inyo County once held a 24-hour relay race when I was in high school (They might still do it. Hell, I don't know). Various schools from around the county had teams to run a relay race for-- big shock-- 24 hours straight. They offered food and games and movies and stuff, and it was all based on the Bishop Union High School football field. It essentially became a tent city of teenagers for a day, like a Hooverville of hormones and acne, and my friends and I spent the race walking and running (we were lazy so we mostly walked it) through the day and night.

In my infinite teenage boy wisdom, though, I neglected to bring poles for my tent.

Or a hat.

Or sunscreen.

Or anything to shelter my white ass from the elements.

So, after being outside and directly exposed to the sun for what seemed like an eternity, especially after spending most of my free time indoors up until that point, my pasty complexion turned to beet red. Blisters formed on my shoulders. The flesh on my nose and arms shed like snake skin. Everything hurt, everything sucked, and I spent a few days inside watching myself go from crimson red to freckles on white.

Since that point I've had pretty bad sunburns; hiking around without thinking to put sunscreen on my neck, a camping-and-climbing weekend last year where I ended up looking like a lobster by the end, but I typically only end up pink this time of year-- regardless of how much sun I get, really. Even when I have SPF 50 on I get a little red, and I'm almost sure if I sat indoors in a room with a window I'd still end up needing aloe vera after it's all said and done.

This weekend I plan to go hiking in Vasquez Rocks, just south of the Antelope Valley. It's probably going to be in the 80s and 90s, with plenty of sunshine and no shelter from it. I have a feeling that, even with sunscreen and a hat as a precaution, I'll be coming out of this weekend as the poster boy of potential melanoma or, at best, pinker than usual.

I can't handle the sun, but I like being outside, so you see my dilemma.

I guess I'll have to sport the adventure hat this weekend like I did in Death Valley:



That, along with a gallon of Coppertone and a little luck, might get me through the summer without bursting into flames.