A tribute to longevity

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

Simple enough, right?

But what happens when something is broken, and still working?

Well, this is what happens.



I broke the arm off my glasses about eight months ago falling asleep on the couch. Since the couch and the car are the only two places my glasses ever go, I used a one-armed balancing act for a while.

It worked well enough, but I finally went to see what the optical shop could do about it last month. After 15 minutes of free "lab" work, the arm was reattached. It doesn't collapse, but it stays on my face. Mission accomplished.




This is an oldie that dates back to my BYU days, but has run its course as a goodie.

I noticed a tiny crack in the battery about a year ago and thought nothing of it. About six months ago the crack was painfully obvious. The phone still worked fine, just so long as I kept calls to less than five minutes. Sorta lost that option not too long ago and had to make a change.








And then there's the shoes. Another BYU oldie. That's at least five years boys and girls, maybe more.

These puppies were already on their last legs when I arrived in Yuma. And it didn't take long for the cracks to become holes when they became my everyday work shoes because of the newspaper's dress code.

Seeing how it only rains about 10 hours a year in Yuma, shoes with holes really aren't a problem. They just become too pitiful, even by my low standards.

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There's no good explanation for holding on to Payless brand shoes with holes, cell phones with a 12-hour battery life and eyeglasses with one arm. But there is an obvious explanation:

I'm cheap, and lazy.

Worth a Tri

Every year the Boy Scouts from the Yuma stake host a triathlon, and this year I decided to give it a go.

How bad could it be? I'm young. I run regularly. No pre-existing medical conditions.

Then again, the last time I did a .25 mile swim was probably back in my days as a Boy Scout earning the swimming and lifesaving merit badges (a small miracle in itself). Same goes for the last time I rode a mountain bike 9.4 miles.

Oh well. No guts, no glory. What good is health insurance if you're not going to use it? Show me to the start line.

I apologize for not having pictures or video to illustrate what follows. I'm just as curious to know how tired, humorous and pathetic my performance appeared.

Before I go any further, I also want to mention that my only goal for the triathlon was to finish. And I did. Which I why I'm willing to detail the 1 hour, 54 minute journey to the finish line.

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7:30 a.m. - Into the water.
Things started off well by the mere fact that I was able to stand in the water without shaking violently, but quickly went downhill from there.
The 0.25 mile swim constituted swimming the length of the pool 16 times. By lap No. 4, my arms were already dead from swimming freestyle. This shouldn't have really surprised me, but it did. I switched to my back side and began using my own unorthodox stroke that relies heavily on a big kick from my right leg the rest of the way.

I'm not sure just how far behind I was once I finished my swim, but I was clearly the last one out of the pool from the "old man" division, which also happened to feature a few ladies. No pride lost yet. I know I'm a terrible swimmer. I can live with it.

I wasn't expecting the headache that accompanied me while I changed clothes for my bike ride. However, I was expecting the uncomfortable bike ride that followed, knowing that my bike was designed for someone about 3 inches shorter than me.
The vast majority of the bike ride was on a loose gravel road that winds around the canal, which didn't help my cause one bit. I listened to a Bill Simmons podcast to with Jim Nantz to distract myself from the agony, was passed by a wave of scouts who began their swim after me, came to a complete stop and took a quick break at both water stations, and likely challenged the world record for most gear shifts in less than an hour without the chain falling off.

Then came the run. Finally, the portion of the race I was prepared to do. The 2.9 miles was a piece of cake. When I hit the finish line I still had enough energy to run another 2.9 miles. Of course, so were the rest of the finishers. Most of them had been done for 20-30 minutes. Little embarrassing to be the youngest competitor in the old man division and end up in last place.

Aside from the total lack of preparation and complete ineptitude at swimming and bike riding, I believe I've diagnosed the cause of my poor finish. After years of hearing swimmers, runners, and their coaches talk about finding a comfortable pace and sticking to it, I put it to the test and found a slight flaw in that method:

A comfortable pace for me = a slow pace. A very slow pace.

As previously stated, I accomplished my goal of finishing the triathlon, so all in all it was a great experience. It's also made me more confident about my chances of finishing my first (and likely last) marathon this October in St. George (Yipee!)

And like any event worth commemorating,
I have the lame T-shirt to prove I was there.