Frick and Frack, call me back!

Jennifer has a secret boyfriend. We think it's Frack.

My roommate has suspicious behavior sometimes. She'll take secret phone calls and when later asked she'll say, "oh, it was just a friend..." Sometimes she disappears for days at a time. "Oh, I was just out." Or, "I was just with some friends." She never gives more details.

We think she likes her secret life. Especially because she knows it drives us crazy. She used to deny her secret boyfriend and get mad whenever we mentioned it. Now she denies it less and jokes around about it with us more. I think she even admitted it to me once as we were walking home from frisbee one night.

Last weekend we think we caught her, though we have no hard evidence. We still need to do some detective work. Set up surveillance. Follow her when she leaves. Get a tracking device. Confiscate her phone and read old text messages and look at call lists. We'd be quite good at this kind of stuff because we've done our research: two straight seasons of 24.

Natalie and I had a BBQ Sunday night for our Wasatch Back Relay team. It started at 6:30, so we should've been gone a little before then. I guess our delay was the usual Sunday afternoon nap, gathering stuff for our dang grilled quesadillas, and helping Jennifer jump start her car. We didn't get out the door until 6:45 pm. A few minutes before we left, Jennifer came back into the apartment, "Frack's coming over." He never comes over anymore. I haven't seen him in months. Minutes later he walks through the back door. It was too quick. Were they always planning to hang out that evening and we were just supposed to be gone by the time he came over?

Maybe we need the back story. Jennifer met Frack over a year ago. He was her roommates cousin. They instantly hit-it-off and started hanging out a lot. He'd come over and hang out with all the roomies, but he and Jennifer would go out and see movies together, etc. Months later he even remembered the first song they ever listened to together in the car. Something a little more than friendship had to have been there during all of this. Jennifer really liked him. But for some reason she sets up these walls between people. She puts up a "We're just friends" front so just in case he doesn't feel the same way she doesn't get hurt. There was sexual tension between them. They would talk about their relationship in the abstract. Neither was up front with the other. They would text message each other a lot. Frack would get girlfriends. Their text messaging would dwindle. They'd break up and he'd be back texting Jennifer all the time. It would cycle like this. Jennifer still liked him the whole time.

She says she's over him now. He frustrates her, or so she lets on. But maybe it's all an act. While Nat and I were at the BBQ, my friends Cyndi and Rob came over to see me. They knocked on the door but nobody answered. Cyndi looked through the peep-hole hole and could tell lights were on. They knocked again, but somebody turned off the lights. They walked around to the back to find our apartment's curtains half open and the place in darkness. She took a quick peek inside before running away. She swears she saw two people on the couch. But it was really too dark to be certain. Were Jennifer and Frack making out?!

I guess we need to solve this mystery once and for all. If it is Frack I don't know why she would have to hide it. Other than the fact she likes secrecy. Maybe it's not Frack at all. Maybe it's someone else that for some reason she feels she has to hide.

Post script: the names have been changed to protect the guilty. But if you know "Jennifer" and "Frack" you'll know exactly who I am talking about. Especially since I used everyone elses real name--use your powers of deduction.

26.2 years... 26.2 miles...

I am 26.2 years old today. To the very day. And this morning I ran 26.2 miles. That's one mile for every year. Exactly. Who knew! Pretty much I'm the coolest.

Earth Day 2K5

I hope everyone has the chance today to reconnect with that which sustains us. Take a moment to reflect on your relationship with the earth. Resolve to do more to lessen your impact and live within the rhythms of the landscape.

Go outside. Get dirty. Feel the earth beneath your feet and hands.

Secret boyfriends

I have a mysterious bruise right above my left calf, near the back of my knee. I noticed it yesterday. It's quite perplexing. It wouldn't be so weird except it seems to be a pretty big bruise with a little purple line going through the middle of it. I know, I'm kinda accident prone sometimes. And I do play a lot of sports. But still. I think I would have remembered hurting myself right there. (And I would have had to run into something backwards!)

So this is my theory. My roommate has a secret boyfriend. Maybe I do too. Maybe I have a secret abusive boyfriend that even I don't know about! Or my roommate abuses me in my sleep. Or I have some weird blood disease (other than the weird blood disease I already have) and I'm dying. All very plausible.

Wild Mercy

The eyes of the future are looking back at us

and they are praying for us to see beyond our own time.

They are kneeling with hands clasped that we might act with restraint,

that we might leave room for the life that is destined to come.

To protect what is wild is to protect what is gentle.

Perhaps the wildness we fear is the pause between our own heartbeats,

the silent space that says we live only by grace.

Wilderness lives by this same grace.

Wild mercy is in our hands.

Terry Tempest Williams, Red: Passion and Patience in the Desert.

Why I love Jack Johnson.

He surfs.
He makes films.
He's a champion for the earth.

Along with his mellow tunes that draw you in like the rise and retreat of waves breaking across the shoreline, Jack J is a supporter of grassroot environmental efforts. He recently joined the nonprofit group 1% For the Planet, an alliance of progressive companies dedicated to environmental work. He also started the nonprofit organization Kokua Hawai'i Foundation to promote environmental education in elementary schools in Hawaii. His upcoming tour is going to be as environmentally friendly as he can make it. Check out the Patagonia website for a complete interview with Jack J by Chris Malloy, Patagonia's surfing ambassador and lifetime friend of Jack's. There's also some footage of their trip to Chile. Check him out if you haven't already. You won't be disappointed. By supporting him and other's like him, we also support a healthier planet.

Racetrack Playa

The rocks move. They do it discreetly, so nobody will see them. They scoot about the dried-up lakebed, random in their travels.

Where have all the children gone?

Where have they gone? They're probably all out wandering in some parking lot somewhere, very close to a busy street. And do their mother's care? No, not really.

I went running the other day. A four-miler(ish) on a newly discovered route. 1100 East. I had made the turn-around and was headed back home. I passed the Eastside Market and there was a little girl, probably no more than three years old, wandering towards the busy street. As I ran past I looked for a parent-type person, but no one was to be found. Not even anyone in a parked car. I stopped, turned around, and ran over to the little girl.

I asked her if she knew where her mom or dad was.

"Suckah!" she replied, as she held up the empty stick of the sucker she had just devoured. The evidence all over her face.

A man pulled up in a white car.

"Is she okay? I saw her and had to stop and see."

"Yeah," I yelled back, "I'm just trying to find her mom."

Satisfied with my efforts, he pulled away.

I was glad someone else had seen her too. But then the thought entered my head: what if I was trying to help this little girl out and someone pulled up and said he was the dad. I would just give this child over without any proof that he really was who he said he was. It was a chilling thought. It's a sick world we live in.

I walked her over to the market and asked the clerk if she knew where her mom might be. She casually answered, "Yeah, she's probably looking for her." Another lady appeared from behind a shelf. The clerk yelled something over to her. She, apparently, was the mother.

After that I didn't quite know what to do with myself. The child was safely within the mother's care. The strangest (or most infuriating) part about the whole situation that the mother didn't even seem to care! Her daughter had been out wandering by a very highly trafficked road and brought in by a complete stranger! There was no panicked expression of relief and thanks. It was all so casual. I turned and started to walk toward the door. I barely got a "Thanks" on my way out.

I do not want to be one of those mother's who doesn't care what happens to my kids. I don't want to be the mom who has so many kids that some get lost in the mix. I don't want to be the mom who is too tired to care about where they are and their safety. I don't want to be apathetic and neglectful.

Mothers: Know when your kids wander near busy streets and then DON'T LET THEM DO IT!

Quote of the day, sponsored by Village Inn

Do you wanna travel around and help people,

or do you want to get married?!

--Cyndi Morris (in an incoherent fashion)

As if it is one or the other.

30 years running: An account of my first Moab 1/2

Southern Utah in the spring. A racing tradition of thirty years. The Moab Half Marathon.

It's become so popular over the years the race director turned registration into a lottery. Once the lottery closed, the only way to get in was through The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's Team In Training program. Since I work for Team In Training, I was in charge of our small volunteer force in Moab. About twenty of us went down, volunteered at the race packet pick-up, and ran the next day. I had a few hours between volunteer shifts to drive up the canyon and see some of the course I would be following.

I'm sitting on a rock by a river. A brilliant blue is the backdrop to rock cliffs. The slow movements of deep time are playing out before me. Water cuts rock. Canyons deepen. It is in slow-motion. The shadows are lengthening down canyon walls. The sun is warm on my body. I am in a quiet moment shattered by the effects of man: too close to a road; not close enough to solitude. But the river flows on. The late afternoon sun shines off the surface of the water. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. Red and yellows fill my eyelids; the warmth of light fills my body. If I sit still enough maybe roots will grasp rock. I will become part of all that is around me.

I slept in my truck. I was too lazy and basically too cheap to get a hotel room. The original plan was to sleep in the bed of the truck. I would be able to spread out, and get a clear view of the dark, desert sky. No real planning went into where I was going to park for the night. I figured I could find a good spot on a quiet street close to the race finish line. I would be up with the sun and ready to catch a shuttle bus to the start. I didn't plan on feeling too vulnerable to go through with it. If I had been with someone else it would have been okay. But lying in the back of a truck on some random street in Moab, Utah didn't sound so appealing in the end. I opted for sleeping in the cab instead. At least it was a bench seat. And if I positioned my body in such a way, I could avoid the seatbelts and actually spread out almost comfortably. I listened to Jack Johnson as I got ready for the night. The only real downfall of sleeping inside the truck was that I wouldn't be able to see the stars. I was looking forward to the falling ones.

What a trip. Probably one of the worst races of my life. ...I wanted to stop running after mile two. I still had eleven to go. The first few miles of the race were unshaded. After 10 o'clock it's starting to get pretty hot to be running in the sunlight. I think having that in the beginning really ruined me. It sucks, though, because they started busing people up the canyon at 7 o'clock. I got up there around 8-8:30, so I had almost two hours to sit in this cold canyon. They wouldn't let anyone up by the real start line--where the sunlight was inching. But by the time the race actually starts (whoever heard of a ten o'clock start time? Why so late?) the sun is in the canyon. I can't deal with heat. But I did.

I figured three scenario's could go down today. Well, actually four. 1) I would have both my problems (IT Band/foot), 2) I would only have one problem surface, 3) I would have neither problems and lastly, 4) I would have some totally unforeseen problem. I guess it was more of the latter.

Besides the heat, I had to deal with tight legs. Legs that really weren't used to running a lot of miles. My last long run was probably six weeks ago. So my legs were hurting.

They're right what they say about this half marathon. It is beautiful. There is something about running down a canyon that does wonders for the mind, body, and soul. The deep reds of the canyon walls were a strength to me; her blood mixing with mine.

Drum Beats. Heart Beats. Rhythms of the earth. Beckoning me to leave the safety of the canyon. Bidding my farewell as I turn to face the world ahead. It is what sticks out most to me in my head. Soft beats growing louder with each step until they are upon me. Deep rhythmic power.

The last few miles sucked too. Once we were out of the canyon there was no
shade. We were running on HWY 191. Talk about horrible and never ending. It was all I could do to make it to the Denny's--that's where I knew the turn was. But then we had to run down 500 West for what seemed like a million blocks. Then it was up 400 North to the finish line. I was so close, and eventually I could see it, and I wanted to stop so badly, but I couldn't let myself. I couldn't just give up and let it beat me like that. It's like life. If you were so close to eternity, you couldn't just give up and throw it all away. So I endured and finished.

The ending to this race was interesting. It was the usual finish line corral. (Although you could stop and get your picture taken with your medal.) There were the bananas. The Gatorade. The water. Various bread items. That was all normal. What I didn't ever expect to see happened a little later.

I was walking back to my truck, tired of waiting to see people I knew. I figured I would get back on the road and head home. I didn't think too much of the big crowd of people standing around some person about 200 yards from the finish line. She must have collapsed. A result of dehydration or pure exhaustion. I walked closer. Through the legs of people I saw her face. Her eyes glazed over. Transfixed on that void in front of her. She must be in shock, I thought, knowing nothing of the severity of the situation.

...She wasn't breathing and didn't have a pulse. ...They started doing CPR. An ambulance drove by. People tried to wave it down. It just drove by and [the driver] seemed so apathetic. We later learned that she was transporting someone
else already. EMT's came on the scene. Another ambulance came. They used the
defibulator to get her heart started. It was so scary. I hope she lives. Her friends were so distraught. How sad.

I later learned she didn't live. Heart failure. You would think her friends would have seen the warning signs. She obviously wasn't doing well. They were literally dragging her to the finish line. That just shouldn't happen at a half marathon. At any race. Death is not welcome among so much life.

fatofthelanddotcom

I met this really interesting guy a few weeks ago at church. It was at my ward's mingle. He was walking through looking for some free food. Too bad I ate the last peice of lasagna only moments before.

Natalie asked him where he got his cool bag. Laus. She told him about how she went to Ecuador for a few months. We started talking world travel. He started talking philosophy. I became a believer that day.

Living off the surplus of our capitolist society. Living off the fat of the land. Networking.

"Hey, I need some zuchinis," said my friend Matt.

"I'm sure my grandpa could hook you up with some!" said Anna Jo.

It was a beautiful thing. I know that fat of the land is true.

Slacklining on the equator

I hear that if you're standing on the equator you can balance an egg on a nail. It is my goal to one day slackline on the equator. Maybe I will have much of the same results.