I carried a watermelon...err. Papaya.


Today I had one of my more brilliant ideas. To go running on the beach in the blasting heat of the day at 3pm. Two things are wrong with this: 1. I'm not a runner, and 2. have I mentioned that hell must feel like Alaska compared to Guam?!

So I hit about the 1 mile marker and just about collapse on the sand. A friendly local comes out of his home to the fence along the beach to comment on how it's too hot to run (yeah no kidding), how he is going later (do I look like I want to get mugged, raped, killed), or that he usually goes in the morning (yes I prefer that too but I have to leave for work by 6:45 am and it doesn't get light until 6am). As I'm walking away from this friendly fella he shouts down the beach at me "hey, do you like papaya" to which I respond "yes" although let the record state that I have no idea if I like papaya or not. I know that I don't like that dried kind. He then proceeds to cut a fresh papaya down from the tree in his yard and I kid you not the thing is the size of a mini watermelon (the papaya not the tree). I was so excited about my exotic piece of fruit that I didn't contemplate the next problem...transporting this torpedo down the beach to my hotel.

This turned into a workout that I never intended on having (in the dead heat of the day)! I ran (if that's what you call it) alternating arms/hands that were carrying this massive fruit. Let me tell you as I sit here typing this blog entry, my arms are killing me, and my face is still bright red and blotchy.

If I keel over and die, blame the papaya. and the sun.


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