My family and I recently did the math to figure out how many spring breaks we had spent in Arizona at my Nana's retirement community, and this year we reached a 10th straight year of hopping off the plane at LAX but at PHX. It's pretty much the same thing except there's no Hollywood sign.
It is safe to say that we have seen a large majority of the tourist sites in a five hour vicinity of us at this point, so this year we decided to spend a good portion of our time just sitting by the pool watching 70 year olds play "volleyball". This made me, my sister, and my mom very happy. In years past we spent hours in the car going to caves, canyons (some pretty grand ones, even), and botanical gardens instead of getting tan in a, much, more relaxing way.
After I started college spring break became a lifeline to get me through the end of the semester in a way that it was not in high school. When I am at school I am very busy watching vine compilations, making pasta in my pasta boat, and playing rugby. It is really quite taxing. Therefore, when it reaches the end of March, after 8 weeks of Grey's Anatomy and microwave popcorn, the last thing I want to do is something that requires effort. I made this clear to my family and they seemed to accept my demands (that was a new feeling) and we planned on spending our afternoon hours basking in the dry Arizona sun surrounded by people on their golf breaks.
But, I should have known it was much too good to be true. Upon landing in Arizona at 2 am Minnesotan time my dad declared that he and I would be taking a hike one of the days. I think he thought that he caught me at a sleep-deprived time, but little did he know 2 am ain't nothing but a chicken wing for me. And before my mom has the chance to call me and tell me to go to bed earlier because of my "narcolepsy" I would like to make it known that I only go to bed past 1:59 am on days ending in -y. Just kidding, days that end in -ay.
I knew that it was time for negotiation, and since argument was futile--I would be going on a hike whether or not I liked it, I had to do what I could to decrease the amount of sweat, blood, and tears would be emitted. I set a strict limit to the time we would be leaving (9am, at the earliest) and the distance (please, anything less than a marathon). We settled on the Tuesday after our arrival with a departure time of 9:01am. After the conversation I shoved the thought of physical activity to the back of my head and focused on more important things: finding my one pair of jean shorts that still fit and working on my tan. The days passed lazily (my favorite kind of day) full of sun and food and more sun and much more food until suddenly it was Tuesday at 8:58 am. I grabbed the first sports bra I could find, the one pair of athletic shorts I brought (I figured I would wear them to sleep), and a large cup of coffee and hopped in the passenger seat of the car. Upon arriving at the mountain we were hiking I did not feel too intimidated, I figured I should get a workout of sorts in before going to a rugby tournament that weekend, and at least I would be working on my tan some more. My dad made sure I sprayed with sunscreen and had three full water bottles and a hiking stick and then we headed up the mountain.
Six hours, 118 flights of stairs (according to my ever-accurate FitBit Charge 2), and six water bottles later we finally made it back to the car and the only thing I could think of was getting a slushie from a gas station and getting in the pool (I never got the slushie). When we got back to the house I automatically went to change into my swimsuit, but stopped cold in my tracks when I felt a sensation like the one the heater emits in my dorm room coming off my back. I pushed my sister out of the bathroom (who needs to wear makeup to the pool?) and inspected myself only to find one of the worst sunburns I have ever had in my long 19 year life. It detailed my strappy sports bra and Gustavus Women's Rugby tank top in perfect form and was redder than my nails at junior year homecoming.
It goes to say that I spent the rest of my trip tanning the front side of my body and avoiding having any hot water hit my back in the shower. But, if one thing came out of this burn, it's that my sister had to rub aloe on my back. I feel as though it really brought us closer to one another.
The overarching lesson I learned from my sunburn from hell is that it's a sign I should never work out again. I wouldn't want to be going and getting another sunburn, would I? It is simply just not worth the risk to engage in any form of physical activity for the rest of my life. I am so very torn up about it, but it's just simply the way it is. We all make sacrifices for our health.
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