Yesterday's tennis date in Riverside Park with my nationally ranked friend (and coworker) Ray turned out to be quite the marathon. (Put Riverside Park high on the endless list of reason I love New York.) Ray is famous for liking to play for hours on end, so I went into the whole thing with the goal of not being like his last opponent who abruptly quit after four games with a "contact lens issue." That it was a sweltering 90-plus degree heat (and LOTS of humidity) certainly was a challenge, but three hours later I was able to walk off the court feeling like I had played decently and didn't completely waste his time. It's been nearly 12 hours since we finished and my face, neck and arms are ON FIRE (I will never learn to wear sunblock). Apparently the damage was clear even as we were playing. At one point during a changeover Ray looked at me and said, "Your face keeps getting redder and redder, yet your legs seem to get whiter." My Irish tan, at its finest.
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