UPDATE! NEW! IMPROVED!

Some commenter known as "basquegirl" recently (this morning) posted a reply that wondered aloud if anyone updates this blog.

Well "basquegirl" yes, someone does update it. Just not often. Not nearly as often as the aforementioned blog owner updates his Facebook page.

That's right, Facebook:Blogspot::Video:Radio Star in my universe. Put all the blame on VCR. I am an avid Facebooker and my stellar blog full of insightful commentary and spot-on analysis has suffered because of it. The real losers in this battle for 'net supremacy are you, all three of you, who follow my blog just waiting for just a taste of the knowledge that drips from this site.

Some things I've been thinking about over the past little while:

1) Salt Lake City sure does love them some cycling, but not as much as Boise does.
2) Saw Angels and Demons last night. Didn't read the book. Will now. Ewan McGregor was a great Camerlengo, and I don't even know if I've spelled that right. Anyway, during the movie, I couldn't stop confusing in my head the "Camerlengo" with "Carlomagno" (who is an ancestor of mine, FYI)
3) If you enjoy mixed nuts, try shopping at the downtown SLC Smith's after 9:30. The aisles were full of filberts when I went
4) basquegirl is pretty awesome and so are her kids
5) My wife gave us a second chance at getting Mother's Day right. Not sure if we succeeded, but part deux was certainly better than part deuce--which was really part one.
6) No place on earth is short on oblivions. Thankfully, no place on earth seems to be short on nice people, too. This seems to be some sort of societal yin-yang symbiosis that God has created so we don't lose faith in humanity.
7) I think if people would read their particular books of scripture--and then behave as they've been instructed--this world would certainly be a much better place to live. If only 10% of would do that (me included!!!), it would be a stellar existence. Now that I think of it, it's probably about 10% who don't that are gumming it up for the rest who are trying (or who can't read). Wha
8) It would be cool if Spring would go a little longer and not jump from 60 degrees to 95 degrees in 24 hours. I don't need anymore Al Gore-induced headaches. It's the change of seasons, not the Apocalypse.
9) Walking to work is cool, especially when it's not just down the stairs
10) I'm pretty optimistic about what will happen and I hope you are too!

WARNING! Adult Content!

So we were playing the "ha ha" game yesterday. That's the one where everyone lays on the floor and rests their head on the stomach of someone else. Then the hilarity ensues. The first person goes "ha" (and the heads start bobbing). The next person goes "ha ha"...you get the idea. Usually the group just starts laughing and bobbing up and down at that point. That was about how far we got before we were all laughing ourselves silly.

Then Nate makes a stinker.

Of course, in normal families, this would stop the laughter. Not in ours. It amplified it. Then Mommy says "Nate has the buns of doom." And of course, the "jokes" continued. We use the word "chones" in our household to refer to undies, so I said "Nate: Attack of the Chones." Then Riley chimed in, "He's Count Doodoo." It finally degenerated into "Nate is Darth Skidius, Evil Sith Lord."

Nate of course couldn't get enough of it and tried in vain to come up with his own monikers, most of which were things like "Yeah! I'm Count Doodoo!"

Of course, trying to keep it high-brow, as we drove around looking at Christmas lights last night, I decided to "have a talk" to the family and discuss how it may be better and more appropriate if we start to talk "nice" and remove references to "body functions" from our dialogue.

All four kids were put to sleep by this. I heard snoring. I did.

MS Ride a Success (Day Two)

Day two began with the prospect of being a bit shorter (50 instead of 60 miles) a bit flatter (less climbing to start the day, less elevation gain overall) and a different kind of scenic.

Everything went as planned except that I totally bonked about ten miles from the finish. About the half-way point, I hooked up with a group of riders from Mountain Orthopedic (some of whom I'd met at the start) and we got in a sweet paceline as we put about 15 miles on in about 45 minutes. I pulled and then let Henry (Enrique) and Alex (Sr.) do the pulling too. Both of these men are Basque (surprise that I gravitated to them) and they were both in their 60s making me look like I had a wooden leg and a plastic lung. They rode like machines. I really need to train harder. That's Henry in the front of the picture below and Alex right behind him. I'm taking the picture over my shoulder while pulling. The ladies in back are daughters and daughters-in-law.


I made it back into McCall solo--as I got dropped when I hit the wall. No worries, though, as I got to the massage table while there was no line. $10 for a thirty-minute post-race was $10 well spent. I think the spa (located in our home town) has a new client. I'll probably send Carrie first. She earned it.

Total stats on the ride:
Day one:
Distance: 59.32 miles
Time: 4:32:23
Avg. speed: 13.1 mph
Max speed: 35.8 mph
Calories burned: 5020
Avg. cadence: 68 rpm

Day two:
Distance: 49.20
Time: 3:19:09
Avg. speed: 15.2 mph
Max. speed: 37.6 mph
Calories burned: 3284
Avg. cadence: 69 rpm

I used my heart-rate monitor on the Garmin 305 Carrie bought for me for the first time on this ride. It says my average heart rate was 126 bpm and my max was 143 bpm. I have no idea what that means, but I assume that the first number is a bit high and the fact I didn't die may be a good thing. If anyone knows what that is, let me know--or I'll look it up myself. Everytime I go to the doctor, they tell me my blood pressure is normal and my heart rate is too. So I'm putting it out there for your closet MDs to tell me if I should be concerned.

Thanks to all my sponsors for their wonderful (and GENEROUS) support on this ride. I know I ask you folks every year to do what you can, and you continually amaze me and my family with your generosity and true devotion to this cause. I invite you to come ride/visit/watch next year. McCall is a beautiful location and would be a great place for a vacation.

Thanks again--and lots of love to each of you!

MS Ride a Success (Day One)

I finished. The MS Ride up in McCall this year was terrific. It was tough. It was challenging. It was well-supported. I love the ride and I love the opportunity to participate in such a fantastic cause. I've got a few pictures from it--although only a pair of them with me, since I didn't really know anyone in the ride (that changed after I rode...I'm a talker), but enjoy!


On day one, I climbed the first thirty miles--seriously--it was an "out-and-back" ride of mostly climbing the first thirty miles--and left the lunch stop ready to head down the mountain. About a mile or two into it, I noticed something on my front tire that looked like tar or goo. I stopped and realized that I had a "herniated tire" and that unless I could find a tire (not a tube), my ride would be over, and I would miss the downhill I had earned. See the picture below for a look at what a herniated tire looks like (note the blisters):



So I hopped into the SAG wagon that would take me to the twenty-mile rest stop and waited. He was also the Sweep car, so we had to wait for the last riders to go--he couldn't use his radio because he wasn't "HAM-certified" or something. Yikes. On our way down the mountain, we came across two brothers (who I'd seen a few times already) who were having their fair share of mechanical problems. One of them had just gotten his third flat of the morning (that was about one per hour). His brother Jason had already flatted once and also broken a cleat on his shoe. Good times. I suggested the issue wasn't "tubular" but instead "rimular" or "spokular" and that he ought to check that out. To make a long story short, we swapped wheels, rims and all, so I could ride down the hill (he was done--plus the SAG wagon had beer and he was thirsty). Here's a nice picture of the "two wrongs make a bike" pair of wheels:


That night, I joined my family, was super grumpy and sore, and actually got a reasonable amount of sleep. Special thanks to my wonderful wife for putting up with me and allowing me to do this without too much "leaving the kids alone" guilt. I love this cause and I love this ride. Mostly because I love my Mom.

I Am Awesome!

Okay, so that title is a bit presumptuous, but I accomplished something yesterday that was totally unexpected. Background: I had read in Bicycling Magazine about a year ago that the best way to teach a kid to ride without training wheels (and also the fastest) was to take them to a grassy hill with a slight incline and basically send them down it. That's the first video you'll see below.

After breakfast-for-dinner last night, I took Nate out on the "hill" in our common area behind the house and got him on his bike for some "lessons." Nate took about four trips down the grassy hill and wanted to hit the pavement (not literally). That's the second video you'll see.

The time difference between the two videos is fifteen minutes (Carrie said it was actually fourteen). The article in Bicycling promised fifteen minutes. They delivered. Nathan rode his bike to TCBY last night (about two miles) and wanted more this morning. He's doing so well! Plus he learned to ride a bike two years before Riley did and three years before his old man. (I've made up for my late start!)

GREAT WORK, NATE! Ride on, my brother!

Maren Elise

It's no secret that the thing we do the worst as parents is come up with names for our newborns in a timely fashion. This latest attempt was no different. Carrie and I wrestled with the names (Carrie knows illegal ninja moves from the government, though, so the wrestling was hard for me) for quite some time. She even acquired a baby name book from the hospital (Clotilde? Really?) for inspiration. In the end, we decided on Maren Elise for our little one. I chose Maren, and I think Carrie likes Elise. She did come up with it.

Here's why I came up with Maren. The name is in our family from the Danish side through my mother. I had originally suggested Maren Marie, as I believe that is on both mine and Carrie's sides, but Marie was shot down...which is certainly fine with me. Pretty common (Mary), too. Anyway, Maren Marie Henriksen (Denmark) was by great-great grandmother, and Elise Pedersen (Sweden) married my great-great-grandfather Jens Christian Sorensen, who was widowed with three children (my great-grandmother among them) in 1880 and raised them plus the six other children born to her with Jens.

Additionally, in December of 1995, I had dinner with Andrea and Maren Gibb in Montclair, CA. A pretty average dinner at Olive Garden--I had known the Gibbs as I volunteered for the Upland Stake Creche Festival, and they were involved in the execution of the event somehow. Anyway, they must've noticed something in me and over dinner mentioned that they had a friend who was also a teacher (true), also spoke Spanish (true), and was also very funny (very true), so therefore we "should get together and go out." So Maren and her mother are the reason why I have such an incredible wife and an awesome life.

I can't think of a better tribute than that. We mix family and friends with one name. I really do have a great life!

A Baby, A Baby, We Have Got a Baby...!

The family count is now six. I'm good with that. Carrie says she's good too. We'll see who flinches first. Our latest little bundle o'joy arrived at 11:49 a.m. MDT today. She was six pounds, thirteen ounces at birth, and if I heard right, she's twenty-one inches long. I left to go get the siblings before they measured her. Carrie had a pretty quick delivery (according to her doctor it was a push and a half...beats twenty-four hours of hard labor!).

SHE'S TINY. A total peanut. Enjoy the pictures and video!

I'm (not) Old

Well, I officially had a terrific birthday yesterday. It all started with a thrashing at the hands of three friends in doubles tennis at 6:00 a.m. We played one set, which my partner and I dropped 7-5. Then we switched partners for set two--which my new partner and I dropped 6-2. I was officially a loser by 7:45 a.m. I headed home with my racket between my legs and Carrie took the kids down to DK, bringing me home some delicious jelly-filled doughnuts. With losing now a distant memory, I looked forward to lunch plans with a different group of amigos at the local Chicago Dog joint. Polish dog, french fries with celery salt (that's good, by the way) and good conversation made for a nice birthday midday. Got some work done in the p.m. and then about 6:15 we went out as a family for dinner. We ate so much--and then they brought out my birthday dessert (a foot-high mudpie piece with hot fudge all over it)--that we still have a completely uncut birthday cake in the kitchen--seriously. We blew out the candles on it (ha hah---only 6) and no one wanted any because we were bloated. The kids hooked me up with a t-shirt that has their hand prints on it and says "hands down our daddy is..." on the front, and "the best!" on the back. Got socks a belt, a couple of CO2 tire inflation guns for my bike and the day was complete.

I have the bestest family in the whole wide world!

Dad's Helper

A couple of weeks back I asked my son if he wanted to help take down the Christmas lights. He did. He "helped" me do the backyard, gathered up the mess of extension cords and we got all the lights down pretty quickly. Nate was impressed with the extension pole that I use in order to avoid using the ladder. I think he would've just enjoyed using that for a couple of hours. Here he is "helping" with the cords.

My sister says that in her post-graduate linguistics program, she worked with an Indian tribe in California who has an actual specific word for someone who helps you complete a task, but that although you complete the task, by having their "help" the task is actually harder to complete. I like the concept--but in this case, no matter how much "more" work is created, I'll always love working with my little guy to get something done.

My Big Little Girl

I had a nice voicemail waiting for me when I finished the century ride on Saturday. My daughter left the following for "Daddy":

"Hi Dad. We love you a lot. We really miss you. Congratulations on your bike ride. We miss you lots. We wish you were here with us. We're watching Hannah Montana. We wish you were here to enjoy it. It's not the same without you. Bye from all of us. We miss you. Bye!"

I was thinking of you, too, sweetie.

All Hail My Wife

In the ultimate gesture of love, my wife took a cooking class about a month ago at The Basque Market in downtown Boise. The gesture comes in that it was a class on making paella, a dish that she has, in no uncertain terms in the past, told me she "doesn't care for." She does, however, know that paella is one of my favorites. She bought the paellera, and last night, she christened it. I am now a member of the Church of Yummy, with my wife as High Priestess.

So I ask: What did your spouse make you for dinner last night?

Tastes sooooooooooo good!

$1.83

I spent the last week in California. Let me share with you what $1.83 means to me as a father.

While in California, I was working remote from my mother-in-law's house. From the big window in the dining room, you can see the front yard, the driveway and the street in front of the home, a single-story place built sometime in the sixties. I opened the slider and let the breeze blow in (and the pet dander from "Micky" hopefully out) and was treated to one of the most touching experiences of my life.

There at the end of the driveway, a street that basically is a really long cul-de-sac with only one outlet, stood my seven year-old daughter, with a card table, a tambourine and a hand-drawn sign on a piece of 8 1/2 x 11-inch paper: Please Donate Money to the Homeless. She stood outside for about an hour calling to anyone and no one to donate money "for the homeless."

After an hour, she came inside and told me, "Dad, I got a $1.83." She seemed a little disappointed but she was happy that she would be able to "donate $1.83 to the homeless." I think the most wonderful thing about the whole experience was that we didn't ask her to do it...we didn't encourage it. She chose to spend this hour of her vacation doing that.

I love my daughter. I love being a Dad. I love $1.83 and what it means to me.