During and after my Peace Corps (PC) years, with fellow PC friends during those days and who still are through-to-now, we’ll sometimes comment on the understanding of us having won the birth lottery, meaning we were/are fortunate to have been born in los Estuches. In my work and travels since the Honduras days, that understanding was further solidified, so much so that people around the world have literally reminded me of that fact—birth lotto. It’s never lost on me that I won.
The other day, though, I had a new revelation along the lines of that thinking: those of us who are mountain bikers won the birth lottery. I mean, what if we were golfers?! Or, and thank goodness not, what if we were pickle ball players?!
I say that in jest, of course. If golfing or pickle ball is your thing, great (I guess!).
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