The Second Century

Yesterday I rode my second century. This ride was the Viva Bike Vegas, and was 118 miles. The course was quite a bit longer than last week's Tour de St. George (at a mere 104 miles), but had less climbing. The weather was beautiful for riding--80 degrees and sunny with a slight breeze. 

It was fairly difficult for me to do this ride after having done the century last weekend; I felt the fatigue in my muscles from last Saturday almost as soon as I got on my bike yesterday. There were several points at which I wanted to quit, but I am glad that I didn't. Finishing was worth the work (even though the food was pretty much gone by the time I got to the finish line), and I made some great friends along the journey.  

It has become apparent that I may need to invest in some additional equipment if I continue to bike as I have for the last few weeks. This morning when I looked in the mirror I noticed that I had parallel lines going from the front to the back of my bald head. It looks like the sun's rays found their way through the lines in my helmet. I've never really been a 'bandana guy', but I guess I'll have to make a change in order to forgo my racing stripes. 

The most memorable commentary from this ride will certainly be Karen's response to an inquiry that my mom made of her. Jeannie asked Karen if I had lost weight, or if my waist had gotten any smaller, with all of this bicycling. Karen's response was, "It is so hard to tell when he is wearing spandex." Priceless. An instant classic to be sure. 

When stripes are a good idea...

I've learned in quilting that you need to stop and think before you choose to use stripes.  You could be asking for extra pain.

See stripes are a directional fabric.  (i.e. Try cutting a bunch of squares with a vertical stripe pattern. Accidentally turn one of the squares 90 degrees so the stripes run horizontally.  Sew it together and oops!  One square is running a different direction than the others.  Time to unpick...) You just have to think harder when you quilt with stripes- that's all.  

However, I've recently discovered stripes can be very helpful.  

Stripes on sheets! Guess what?  I ALWAYS put on the fitted sheet right every time.  I know the stripes run from head to toe.  Saves me at least 30 seconds trying to figure out which side is shorter, etc.

The First Century

Yesterday I did something I've never done before; I rode my bike 100 miles--my first century. Karen and I drove to St. George to participate in the Tour de St. George. Karen rode the 35 mile distance, and felt so good after it that she was disappointed that she didn't go for the 60 mile distance. 

I had never actually gone for more than a 40 mile ride, although I told Karen that I'd ridden 60 miles before when she expressed stern disapproval of my wishes to do the century (which could have had something to do with my tendency to be a tad overzealous with my physical activities and then hurt myself in the process). 

The course, with approximately 6,000 feet of vertical climb, is a pretty tough one. For those of you familiar with the greater St. George metropolitan area, the course started at the Tabernacle, headed through Washington Fields and around Sand Hollow; went through Tocquerville, Leeds, and Hurricane; wound around Quail Creek Reservoir and back to St. George; headed up and up and up and up the highway to the top of Snow Canyon before going down Snow Canyon; then it wound through Santa Clara and Ivins before finishing back at the Tabernacle.

I thought that I'd let you know how the ride felt through the course. Here is a brief log. 

Mile 10 Wow, was that really only 10 miles? 

Mile 20 We certainly have climbed a lot of hills. The race organizers seem awfully focused on inclines in elevation. 

 

Mile 30 I am in heaven. The road is smooth and the course is gorgeous. I can't believe how pretty Sand Hollow is. I could do this forever. I am passing people left and right. 

Mile 35 That was an incredibly brief ride downhill after all that climbing. 

Mile 40 I have never ridden my bike 45 mph...nice!

Here I am at about mile 45 

Mile 50 I can hardly wait for the lunch stop. I am starving. By the way, have you ever spent a few hours in cycling cleats? It has been a while since I could feel my feet. 

Mile 55 I can't believe how tired I am. Even flat ground fills like an incline. My hands are now so tired that it hurts to shift gears.  

Mile 65 I can't remember my name or what year it is. The sun is awfully hot and my vision is blurred; all I can see is one hill after another. My neck is so tired that I can barely lift my head up. I still can't feel my feet. My skin is cracking and salty from all the sweat. 

Mile 70 The lady at the last water stop said it was only 10 miles to the top of Snow Canyon. What a sadistic sense of humor she has.

Mile 75 I can't remember the last time my speed was in the double digits. I really, really, really wish I could downshift right now. What I wouldn't give for a third sprocket on my bike. 

Mile 80 We are finally going downhill. Snow Canyon is really steep. My hands are exhausted from braking. I don't know what is the most tired--my legs, my neck, or my hands. 

Mile 85 Unbelievable. We are going uphill again. 

Mile 90 I want my mommy. 

Mile 95 Ok, I can do this. But at 5 mph it is going to take a while to get to the finish line. 

Mile 100 I thought this thing was only 100 miles. 

Mile 102 I just hit the wall for the third time. 

Mile 103 I never thought of Main Street as an imposing hill before today. 

Mile 104 Jubilation! (And no, the finish line had not yet been taken down by the time I got there). 

Jack and me at the finish line. 

Suffice it to say it was a great experience and I almost can't wait to do it again, although I'll need at least a few days before I can even look at a bicycle seat. 

 

Here is my cute biker wife after she finished the 35 mile course. 

I have Doug, my brother-in-law, to thank for these fine race photographs. This is a self-portrait. 

I have Alisha, my sister-in-law, to thank for watching Jack while both Karen and I were on the race course, for driving Doug around while he could take these ever-so-flattering pictures of me in full-body spandex, and--most importantly--for marrying Doug.

Becoming my mom?

Maybe. (Case study #1)

Growing up, my mom always had a laundry and cleaning schedule.  (Monday and Thursday she washed colors.  Tuesdays were sheets & towells.  Fridays were whites.)  I thought every mother did this.  I remember thinking if I wanted to wear my red Durrant Dragon Elemantary School t-shirt on Friday that I'd better get it in the hamper by Wednesday night as colors would be washed again Thursday.   

Same goes for cleaning.  We always knew Wednesday meant you had to "deep" clean.  It meant you had additional tasks for your current cleaning assignment on the rotation schedule.  For example, if I was assigned the tan bathroom for the week then every day I had to clean the sink, wipe the counters, and then clean the mirrors.  (Your mom taught you to clean the mirrors last, right? If you clean them first, water might get splashed on them when you clean the sink. Brilliant!)  On "deep clean" Wednesday, you had to additionally scrub the toilet, shower/bathtub, and clean the floors.

Now I find myself home full-time and falling into similar patterns.  To me Monday means cleaning bathrooms, kitchens, washing sheets & towels & Jack's clothes.  Wednesday means colored need to be washed.  Tuesday afternoon is errands (or get out of the house for most the day).  

As much as I may poke fun at my mom for still sticking to her routines I see why.  I, too, am much happier and enjoy life more when I know when everything will get done.  After a weekend full of activities and fun, I find myself looking forward to Mondays when I just stay at home and work. 

Maybe not. (Case study #2)

My sweet tooth is not a secret.  As a child I loved Halloween.  I had a hierarchy of candy and would sort my Halloween goods accordingly.  Snickers, 3 Musketeers, Kit Kat, M&M's, Milky Way all belonged to the highest tier.  I loved that I had three little brothers who didn't know the candy hierarchy and would willingly trade a Snickers for some smarties. 

Today on a quick trip to CVS for some infant tyelonol, I noticed the Halloween section was clearing out and Christmas supplies were being shelved.  The big yellow tags by the candy caught by eye.  Sale!  I still needed to buy some Halloween candy for the ward trunk-or-treat and it was a super deal.  Fun size bags 2 for $3.oo.  

Then, another yellow tag caught my eye. 20 cute Pumpkin erasers  in a bag - 2 for $3.00.  I really thought, "Those would be fun to give out instead of candy.  They would last longer.  You could take them to school."

Then I caught myself.

"Pencils and erasers for Halloween?  Stop.  You sound like Mom. Pretend you are a kid."

I bought the candy.

(Yes, we were the house that gave out Halloween pencils.)

Biking Lake Mead

This weekend we decided to go for a bike ride on the River Mountains Loop Trail, which is an asphalt trail that goes up and down the mountains along the banks of Lake Mead. When the trail is complete it will be a 35 mile loop. Right now only portions of the trail are done. Instead of getting a babysitter for Jack and, therefore, taking our road bikes (since we only pull the trailer with our mountain bikes), we opted to make the trip a family affair by taking our mountain bikes and pulling Jack in the trailer. 

Bringing Jack was a great idea until the wind kicked up, which happened, coincidentally, just a few minutes after we turned around on the trail to head back to our car, and were--as a result--the maximum distance from our car. As it turns out, the bike trailer performs an awful lot like a sail in the wind. We could have put the rain cover on the trailer to make it more aerodynamic, and thus much easier to pull in the wind, but we didn't have the rain cover with us. 

The Clydesdale who pulls the trailer didn't bring it along for the ride in order to conserve weight (besides, we have learned that it only rains in Vegas when we go camping). The more-intelligent and better-prepared half of our marriage thought I was quite foolish for leaving said cover behind. Oh well. Live and learn.   

In the wind, I found that I actually had to pedal to go down hill, which was a bit unpleasant. I found that the harder I pedaled, the more wind drag I created (or I should have said the wind drag that the trailer created, not meaning to imply that my svelte figure created much wind drag), and the harder I had to pedal to maintain my speed. I guess my physics teacher was right after all. 

Having groused about the wind I should probably disclose that we might not have had to deal so much with the wind if it weren't for the delays created by the two flat tires that we had before we left. The first flat was on my mountain bike, and ostensibly came from my desert ride a few days ago. This took about 60 minutes for me to fix with my complete lack of technical savvy (and even getting it done in 60 minutes was fortunate, and was due completely to Karen's having come to my rescue). 

The second flat was, unfortunately, self-inflicted. I pulled the entire valve stem out of one of the tires on Jack's trailer as I tried to remove the pump from the tire after filling the tire up with air (note prior comment on lack of technical savvy). We had to stop at the bike shop to get that one fixed. Yes, this is indeed the same bike shop that I took Karen's bike to a few weeks ago to get put back together again after I drove under a sun shade with the bikes on the roof. 

We ended up riding between 10 and 12 miles, which was probably a little overzealous given the conditions (wind, trailer, hills, unknown trail, molars, etc.), but I just found the urge to see what is around the next turn and what is over the next hill to be absolutely irresistible.

 

Despite the conditions we had a great time. Jack didn't seem to mind the wind burn or the fact that he is in the midst of cutting his molars and--as always--loved being outside with his parents. 

Unemployment

When Bryce was unemployed and people would question what he was thinking of doing next, he often replied (in all seriousness) that he was trying to go back into to male modeling.  He might even embellish the story by saying modeling is how he ended up in New York in the first place.

For some reason, he gets a kick out of putting people in uncomfortable situations.  He loves watching people struggle through the dialogue in their heads.  "Bryce is kidding, right?...But what if he isn't?...Maybe I should be honest and upfront with him?  Better to come from a friend...Hurry! Just smile or say something..."

Well, Bryce was never a male model, but he is very photogenic.  I'm pretty sure these genes must have been passed down to Jack.  Just check out the versatile expressions he can give...

Next time unemployment roles around to this family, I may have to insist they both return to male modeling.  

FHE on the Range

The only thing better than a beautiful, talented, intelligent, happy, and forgiving wife is a beautiful, talented, intelligent, happy, and forgiving wife who likes to golf. 

Tonight for Family Home Evening Karen suggested that we all head to the driving range to hit some golf balls. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. We went to the range and we all had a great time. I think that we ended up hitting (blading, topping, popping-up, or crushing) about 200 balls. 

Jack can eat and golf at the same time, not unlike grandpa Bruce and uncle Wade (note the cracker in Jack's left hand). I should probably mention that Jack's short game is already better than either one of theirs. 

KW is all business on the golf course, and she has by far the cutest golf cleats on the range. 

Daddy gives Jack his first golf lesson. 

My darling wife celebrates a great shot. 

Karen maintains that the spiritual message of this evening's FHE was not using poor language on the golf course. I'm guessing this lesson was geared towards Jack. 

Mt Charleston - Hiking, Camping, Rain, & Fun!

A few weeks ago we went hiking at Mt. Charleston with our good friends (ex New Yorkers) the Hemingways.   We had a great time and--more than anything--enjoyed the cool weather.  An increase of 6000 feet in elevation can cool things off by 20 or 25 degrees.  

View on the hike

Family snapshot.  Jack taking a snooze.

On our trip we noticed several campgrounds and our friends suggested we return in 2 weeks for an overnight camp out.  All agreed. 

We began our preparations and lists -- tents, sleeping bags, lanterns, matches, menus, etc. Most importantly, we began the endless shopping trips trying to find jackets, coats, or hats.  Usually when we asked about these items we received the answer, "Oh, we'll be getting our coats and hats in 3-4 weeks."  Not exactly helpful.

The weekend arrived and we headed out.  The trip had a rough start but ended up being really fun.  

Notes for next time.

1)  Leave early from work.  Things always take longer than you think in packing up the car and setting up camp.  It was dark when we arrived making it a bit harder to prepare dinner and set up tents.  Perhaps feeding the babies dinner before we left would have helped as well.

2) Make a reservation for a campsite.  It's a scary feeling driving from campground to campground and seeing the sign "Campground Full". 

3) Send the men up ahead of time to set up camp.  There's nothing like trying to keep starving, tired one-year olds out of the way.  Tents and poles just look so fun!

4) Prepare for it to rain all night even if you do live in Vegas.  It rained all night long.  From inside the tent it sounded like a hurricane. (Luckily, Bryce and Ryan both set up the rain shields on both tents.)  

5) Ignore the weather man.

6) Take the Hemingways again.  They provide lots of great laughs and entertainment.

7) Don't buy camping chairs at Wal-mart.  They don't let you recline much or, as Bryce says, "It makes you feel like you are sitting on the toilet."  If you bring these chairs, you also run the risk that Bryce will brake the chair and then proceed to burn it in the fire with Ryan's assistance.

8) Take some family photos perhaps in front of the tent.  We missed out doing so on this trip.

Jack fascinated with the lantern

Setting up camp

My boys

Jack enjoying the morning fire

My blue eyes may be turning black

Walking isn't always what its cracked up to be.

Oops...I did it again

Many of you know that one of our favorite elements of our new life in Las Vegas has been biking. I went so far as to buy a bike rack for the roof of my car that is probably worth more than my car at this stage (no kidding). Well, my history with roof racks is not a positive one, and I've just added to it today. 

This evening Karen and I were going to ride the loop through Red Rock Canyon together. This was to be KW's first time riding the loop. We even got a baby-sitter for Jack. 

With the bike rack on my car, and Jack's car seat in Karen's car, we decided to take two cars to the babysitter's house (which is just a few minutes away from us), leave her car there, and take my car up to the canyon. I followed Karen to the babysitter's house and turned into a parking space. Unfortunately, I pulled into a parking space with a sun shade over it. As it turns out, the bikes on top of the car don't actually fit under sun shade. Ouch!

Karen's bike, sadly, took all of the impact. When I pulled the bike off the car, I saw that many of the parts were pushed out of their rightful positions (the front wheel was no longer straight and the brake lever was crooked, etc.). Nothing seemed to be broken or bent, just out-of-place. In place of riding the loop together, I took the bike to the shop to had them check the bike, and Karen went and told the babysitter that we wouldn't be needing her services this evening. Thankfully, nothing was broken or bent on the bike or the rack (and--believe me--no one cares about the car). Karen's brake handle, however, does now have a nice scrape and some beautiful brown paint on it that it didn't have before today. Sorry Karen; I owe you one. 

The funny thing about this whole situation is that I know that I am prone to such mishaps (having, in my roof-rack career to date, already lost several pairs of skis to the freeway after forgetting to latch the rack, and having been 50% responsible for driving a car into a parking garage with my bike on top of it). In fact, I am so aware of my tendencies this way that when I put the bikes on the roof I check them so many times that I've wondered if I have OCD or am a mini Rain Man or something. Honestly, I check the bikes to death when I put them up there. Come to find out though, these checks don't actually help you if you drive your car+bikes under low-hanging objects! 

I guess the grand lesson in all this is that my life is just one big lesson. If the tables had been turned and Karen had done something like this and damaged my bike, I don't think that I would have been as calm, patient, and forgiving with her as she was with me. I continue to learn from her in many ways. Life is good when you marry way, WAY up like I did. On the other hand, I certainly do feel badly for her for getting the short (bald, and some might even say a little heavy) end of the stick with me!