It was the tiniest drop of blood.

When I finished running yesterday my friend Laurette noticed that there was something odd on my nose. I went in to the bathroom, peered in the mirror and there it was. An impossibly small teardrop of blood, on the other side of my nose, the side spared by last year's skin cancer surgery.

I dabbed it with a paper towel and it was gone, leaving behind it a small hole no larger than the head of a pin.

I talked it over last night with the spousal unit. It might be nothing, but he's concerned. One of the things with my skin cancer last year was that it would break open and heal, disappear and then reappear, only each time the tiny hole would grow a wee bit larger.

I've decided not to muck around with this and I called the clinic of the local dermatologist who originally diagnosed my skin cancer. After she heard my concerns, his nurse patched me through to him. He's opened up a slot for me Thursday morning to look at the impossibly small scab that is probably nothing at all. If he has any doubts about it, he will cut it out and have a biopsy done.

That loud smooching sound you hear in the background of this would be me kissing my Quebec Health Insurance Card.

Back when I went through my skin cancer surgery last fall, I mentioned the fact that there is no such thing as a safe tan.

Grab those hats, kids, and slap on that sunscreen before you head out the door. Trust me, you never want to know what it feels like to have someone take a scalpel to your face.

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 518.24 miles. Quadruple Duckage. You rack up the miles when ya train for a 10K.