Vineyard TT

Since early last season, I've been thinking I should make a time trial out of a portion of one of the routes I often ride.

I tried it out on Monday afternoon, and it turned out to be pretty awesome (minus the wind).

I've dubbed it the Vineyard Time Trial. It's an 8-mile loop along the east shore of Utah Lake, out by the sod farms in Vineyard and the marina in Lindon.

It's mostly flat (just 200 feet of total elevation gain), lots of straight stretches, and virtually no traffic.

I put in a time of 23:53, giving me an average of 20.1 mph over the 8-mile course.

It's a good benchmark for this year's training efforts. We'll slowly whittle that down as the season progresses.

Spring is coming

Don't let all this snow fool you - Spring is actually on the way.

Behold, the ice melts on Utah Lake!



I took Rumbi for a walk yesterday morning around 10:30. It was so warm outside, I decided I'd suit up and get out for a ride. But by the time I'd changed and pulled out of the garage, the sun had ducked behind a cloud and the wind had started to blow.

While some choose to sit inside sipping soup, others saddle up and plow headlong into the oncoming storm.

Still others - admittedly less brave and likely less intelligent - ride out thinking it's going to be warm, only to end up battling stiff headwinds and bits of freezing rain.

But my burning legs confirmed to me that I had made the right decision. Regardless of weather, it's always worth it once you get out there.

An accidental find

A few months back, Liz and I wanted to visit the Salt Lake City Cemetery and see the burial places of some of the past presidents of the Church.

We couldn't find the cemetery, though, and the idea eventually slipped from our minds.

Last Wednesday, I was headed to the downtown library for some quality Internet time. As I drove up 7th East, I noticed a road in the distance that seemed to head straight for the sky. Of course, I imagined someday riding it and decided to investigate.

It turned out to be I Street, and it took me up through the famed Avenues. Upon reaching the top, I found other streets that took me higher, until I was finally overlooking the entire Salt Lake Valley. It was beautiful, despite the freezing temperatures and incoming snow storm.

Then, on the drive back down, I ran into it - the Salt Lake City Cemetery. So I entered, parked, and started wandering.

I was able to find six of the eight presidents of the Church buried there. I'll have to find Harold B. Lee and Howard W. Hunter when I return with Liz. (Joseph Smith, Brigham Young, Lorenzo Snow and Ezra Taft Benson are buried elsewhere.)

There are also quite a few other notable people buried there. It's a great place to wander around if you have an hour or two to spare.

But take my advice and go when it's warm.

A snow storm closes in on downtown Salt Lake City.

The cemetery includes a section for members of the Armed Forces.

John Taylor

Wilford Woodruff

Joseph F. Smith

Heber J. Grant

George Albert Smith

David O. McKay

Joseph Fielding Smith

Spencer W. Kimball

Gordon B. Hinckley

The Salt Lake City Cemetery is a peaceful, beautiful place. Well worth an hour or two of your time.

An inglorious chore

After two whole days, I am forming a first opinion of dog ownership and its pros and cons. Mostly pros.

Rumbi is so much fun to play with. He loves tug-of-war with his rope, fighting with me over his porcupine, and going on several walks each day. He loves being outside, which is great because I do too.

There is, however, one definite drawback.

Rumbi = Good

Rumbi's rope = Good

Rumbi's porcupine = Good

Rumbi's monkey = Good

Rumbi's poop, which I pick up with my bag-wrapped hand = BAD

There is a certain indignity in bending over to pick up your puppy's steamy little poop with your own hand. Then I carry it around with me as we walk.

Makes you wonder who's really in charge. I'm outside because HE wanted to go out, and now I'm stooping to pick up HIS poop.

Not a bad deal for the dog, if you ask me.

At least the bags are biodegradable. Huzzah.

A new member of the family

We added another member to our family last night:



As you can probably guess, he just made that fire hydrant his own.

His name is Rumbi. He's a two-year-old Yorkshire Terrier that our neighbor gave us. She said she's rarely home and feels bad leaving him there all the time, so we (Liz) offered to take him off her hands.

He's a fun little guy to have around. He has a great personality, is very energetic and intelligent, and loves to play.

Since I'm home all the time, we're gonna be best buddies. Or worst enemies. Time will tell.



And here's a picture I shot on our afternoon walk today, just for fun. It's good to have a reason to get out.

Waxing philosophical

Job hunting is making me philosophical...or crazy, depending on how you define it.

I recorded a show last week and finally got around to watching it today as I ate lunch. It aired on KUED and is entitled, "Wilderness: The Great Debate."

I'm sure it will play again—if you get the chance to watch, I highly recommend it. It's fairly even-handed, though not completely. But put aside the politics of it all and simply listen to the arguments being made.

The program quotes Wallace Stegner, of whom, I am loath to admit, I’d never heard. Among other things, Stegner was a novelist, professor, and environmental advocate. His Wilderness Letter is among his most famed writings and is absolutely worth reading regardless of your political leanings.

In this letter, Stegner argues for the importance of preserving wilderness in America. Not just high alpine wilderness that’s essentially inaccessible anyway, but wilderness in all its forms.

Something will have gone out of us as a people if we ever let the remaining wilderness be destroyed…if we pollute the last clear air and dirty the last clean streams and push our paved roads through the last of the silence, so that never again will Americans be free in their own country from the noise, the exhausts, the stinks of human and automotive waste. And so that never again can we have the chance to see ourselves single, separate, vertical and individual in the world, part of the environment of trees and rocks and soil, brother to the other animals, part of the natural world and competent to belong in it.

He goes on to assert that, even if you rarely spend time in the great outdoors, you can still benefit from knowing there are places in this world that aren’t covered with pavement or pocked with power lines and billboards and cell towers and business parks.

The reminder and the reassurance that [wilderness] is still there is good for our spiritual health even if we never once in ten years set foot in it…. We simply need that wild country available to us, even if we never do more than drive to its edge and look in. For it can be a means of reassuring ourselves of our sanity as creatures, a part of the geography of hope.

I've always loved being outdoors, especially in the mountains. From the time I was a Boy Scout hiking to a secluded lake in the Uintas, right up to the present day when, astride my mountain bike in the early morning hours, I huff and puff my way through solitary meadows and onto silent peaks and overlooks.

Stegner says of his upbringing on the plains of Saskatchewan, “I hope I learned something from looking a long way, from looking up, from being much alone.”

I know I certainly have. And I intend to do more to ensure that my children, and their children after them, are afforded the same opportunity I’ve had on countless occasions: To marvel at the majesty of God’s creation, and to look inward as they search out their own identity and struggle to find their own place in this world.

Pork and beans

Did you ever wonder where that little dab of pork fat comes from in the can of pork and beans?

Me neither. But today I found out.

I spent the morning at the Lindon cannery. I've been there twice before and canned peaches both times, but today we were doing pork and beans. They divided us up into stations and my job - along with three other people - was to drop a dab of fat into each can just before the beans went in.

Two of us sat on each side of the conveyor belt. We had a big tub of fat chunks between us, and as the cans whirred by, we'd drop a dollop in each one.

Personally, I like working at the cannery, and today was no exception. Three hours of dropping pig lard into aluminum cans doesn't sound that great, but it was fun.

Although, I did come home, take a long shower, and then watch The Dark Knight. Maybe a head full of fat fumes was just too much to handle.