Weekend 7 - I meet the president

I worked out with my 90-Day group Saturday morning, even ran on the treadmill following the group workout without apparent damage to my knee. I am feeling both coordinated enough and light enough on my feet that running the Ragnar distance seems increasingly possible.

Following the workout I returned home to find Blake and Mari in the kitchen making pumpkin bread. That reminded me of the sweet potato pancakes Tauni and I had in Memphis, so I decided to see if I could find a recipe. Sure enough on recipe.com I found a recipe for Louisiana sweet potato pancakes, which had received 5 star reviews. I happened to have a few sweet potatoes in the pantry, having read that they are the perfect food. I boiled a couple potatoes, and mixed them with flour, nutmeg, cinnamon, baking powder, egg and milk. They were spectacular with a bit of honey and maple syrup.

From there I showered, put on my new black suit and made my way to the Million Air terminal at the airport to meet the president of Senegal with Parky. I arrived early enough that the only other people there were Brad Cook and Jon McNaughten of SUU and the half dozen or so Secret Service men assigned to protect the president. Next to arrive was the press in the form of Lee Benson, the only person present not wearing a suit. The Secret Service asked for his press credential. He managed to produce a faded employee card, which didn't impress them. They told him that if he approached the president without a press credential hanging from his neck someone would put him down. I think Lee caught their drift. Nonetheless, after the president and his encourage of 40 people arrived in two airplanes, Parky escorted Lee to the president's limo, where Lee managed to ask a few questions without any of the Secret Service men getting trigger happy.

The president drove off at the head of a motorcade in a white SUV followed by a half dozen or more black vans. Later at the hotel the Senegalese ambassador to the US reamed out the Secret Service chief for putting the presidential car at the head of the motorcade and having the president in white car that stood out from all the black vans. She had a point. It was as if the Secret Service had arranged for the president to be in a car labeled, "Hey assassins. Here I am. Come and get me." Fortunately, despite the invitation, the motorcade made it to the Grand America Hotel without incident.

We hung out at the hotel for awhile, Parky going over and revising the president's schedule with the ambassador. We then proceeded to a reception at the Alta Club, hosted by former governor and Bush cabinet member, Mike Leavitt, an SUU graduate for whom a public policy institute at SUU is named. Present were a number of legislators and business leaders. After the opening ceremony, at which the president was given various awards and gifts, the president met with business leaders who explained their interest in doing business or charitable work in Senegal. The reception was followed by dinner at the Grand America, hosted by the Waterford Institute, whose early learning program has been implemented on a pilot basis in Senegal. Tauni and I sat at a table with the vice president of the Senegalese assembly, the Senegalese military attache to the embassy in Washington, and the embassy's economic officer. The vice president assured me that our housing project could be very important to his country, and otherwise had little to say. The embassy officials, on the other hand, had a lot to say, including explaining that Iran's Ahmadinejad is a very smart man, skillful in raising questions about US foreign policy. We really had a delightful conversation. The military attache had spent 7 years in Germany, attending their war college among other things, so he and I even chatted in German for awhile.

The next morning I got up early and drove with Bruce Anderson and Dean Hutchings to Cedar City for meetings there regarding the housing project. We met first with Matt Edwards, the SUU faculty member who has designed the house we propose to build, and later, after a short field trip to the Kolob overlook in Zion National Park, met with the president and his advisors regarding the housing project. The president seemed to like what he heard, telling us that he would give us 200 acres of land if we would build houses in Senegal.

Parky was thrilled at the outcome. Though I was happy that there is opportunity in Senegal, and charmed by the Senegalese people I met, Dean, Bruce and I were all sobered by the magnitude of the project before us. Completing the housing design, building a prototype, and then launching a real company to build houses in two African countries, Senegal and Tanzania, will require a huge amount of work. But if we can really do it, our providing affordable housing and mortgage financing will be a wonderful thing for those countries. And it won't do us any harm either.

Parky is talking of going to Senegal and Morocco in October and Tanzania in December. Got to finish the 90 Days first. Then off to see the world, a lighter, fitter, and hopefully more sane man than I was before the 90-day program began.

Over the weekend Tauni told me she is interested in enrolling in the next 90-day group. I texted Marci with the news. Tauni is scheduled to interview with her next Wednesday. Can't wait to hear how that turns out.

Week 7 - Halfway through 90 days

We had midterms this week. Our trainers finally reviewed how much weight and inches we have lost. Or as they prefer to say, how much fat we have released. My totals were 15 pounds and 14.5 inches lost. Not bad. That puts me within range of my goal of getting under 180, and actually close to my marathon weight of 170. The good news is that people are noticing the weight loss and my running is getting easier. Bad news is that most of my pants don't fit, which means either alterations or more clothing purchases. I picked up the three suits I bought in New Orleans from the tailor this week. I wore the black suit this weekend (more on that later). Parky told me I looked like a movie star. I would say he was being ironic except that he doesn't do irony. He does do BS, which is probably more to the point.

Our homework has included a 7 CD audio set entitled "Loving What Is" by Byron Katie. The book centers around 4 simple questions Katie discovered while recovering from stress and depression in a halfway house in 1986. Since that time she has done what she calls "the Work" with hundreds of people, walking them through the four questions in an effort to free them from stress and woe. I've listened to six of the seven CDs. You would think I'd have the questions memorized but I'm not entirely sure that I do. Here's what I remember.

As to a stressful or distressing thought, such as "my spouse should listen to me," as the following questions:

1. Is this true?

2. Do I absolutely know that this is true?

3. Where would I be without this thought?

4. Is there a non-stressful way to think about this thought?

After going through the questions, she recommends turning the thought around. In this case, the turnaround would be, "I should listen to my spouse."

Her effort is to get people to accept reality, and a lot of this involves eliminating the "shoulds" from our thinking, at least as applied to the behavior of others. In so doing, we learn to accept and love reality, or, as she says, to unconditionally love people, meaning to love them as they are, not as we wish they might be.

Over the years, these questions might have helped me with a number of important relationships and issues. As for the future, you just never know, but I think the questions could make a difference.

Tuesday I traveled to Cedar City to meet Parky and talk with him to the Southern Utah University administration regarding a deal for use in Africa of a house design developed by Matt Edwards of the university's construction management department. We came to a basic understanding, although I've worked through too many deals to believe a deal is done until it has been written up.

The university president, Mike Benson, and his provost, Brad Cook, are extraordinary. Both have Oxford PhDs, have amazing academic accomplishments, and more importantly are warm, engaging people who have the rare combination of vision and ability to get things done. They have launched a number of major programs, including their International Outreach program. They see the housing project as a way to potentially give their students international experience, attract international students, and begin to create a stream of royalty income. Because of his extensive political connections, particularly in Africa, they have given Parky the official title of University Ambassador, in which capacity he arranged for the president of Senegal to visit the university last weekend. Not bad for a small college in Southern Utah.

Weekend 6 - Avon Pass

During my Friday call with Marci I told her I needed a break from high intensity exercises on Saturdays. I need both to let my joints recover and also to put in some long, slow distance. Out of respect for my goal of running the Ragnar Tennessee, she agreed.

Saturday I tackled a different goal. The 13-mile dirt road from Liberty to Avon has been a personal challenge since we built our cabin. During the first 2-3 rugged miles the road climbs over 1500 feet to one of the greatest mountain views I can imagine. To the south is the sheer east face of Ben Lomond. To the north is a broad meadow bordered on each side by tree-covered mountains. I have tried to ride that road on a mountain bike twice before. My first attempt was with Lee Benson, who did the ride as part of his annual series of columns about a multi-day bike tour of some part of Utah. We rode on a gorgeous fall day. Lee coaxed me farther than I otherwise might have gone but about halfway up I dismounted and walked for about a mile before riding the last part of the climb. My second attempt was in late June - three months ago. Again, I dismounted about halfway up and this time walked the remaining couple miles to the summit. It took me 3 hours to cover the distance from the gate entrance to the road in Liberty to the one cafe in Paradise.

Here's what Lee Benson wrote about our ride:

"Now I'm going to show you the inspiration behind the Wasatch Back route," said Steve Hill, who, like any good sports announcer who appreciates the value of silence at a big moment, then shut up and didn't say another word.

There was also the small detail that neither he nor I could breathe.

We were climbing a dirt road between Ogden Valley and Cache Valley. Our mountain bike sprockets were at 1 and 1, aka the granny gear, and they stayed there until we reached what for any number of reasons could be called the high point of the ride.

Hill got off his bike at the summit and looked around at the horizon.

Then he turned his gaze to the 13-mile stretch of rock and dirt that got us there."Amazing, isn't it?" he asked rhetorically as he gazed at spectacular mountain scenery suitable for framing anywhere in the world.

The remote road, situated only a few miles from the freeways even though it feels like a million, traverses a part of Utah largely unseen, exposing mountain views long hidden from the masses.

It's sort of like having a Renoir tucked in the back of the room, hidden behind an Andy Warhol.

For Hill, the 13 miles represents the missing link he'd long been looking for in his quest to map out the perfect Utah long-distance running relay route.

Ever since moving to Utah from Oregon, Hill had dreamed of one day interrupting his day job — he's a lawyer — long enough to replicate the famous Hood to Coast Relay he'd participated in multiple times as an avid runner in Oregon.

Hood to Coast starts at Mount Hood and ends 197 miles later at the Oregon Coast. It was started in 1982 by Bob Foote and soon became the world's most popular running relay. Every year, 1,000 12-person teams — that's 12,000 runners — enter the one-day event, and it would be many more than that if there wasn't a cap limit on the number of entrants.

Hood to Coast shows off the best of Oregon.

Hill wanted to show off the best of Utah.

For years, as he drove around the state, he tossed his idea around in his mind, trying to conjure the perfect route. But it wasn't until his wife, Tauni, lobbied for a vacation cabin in the Ogden Valley that things finally started moving in the right direction.

One day, after purchasing a lot above the town of Liberty, Hill looked to the north where the 13 miles of rock and dirt starts its ascent to the summit and asked, "Where does that road go?"

The rest is relay history.

Steve and his son, Dan, used the 13 miles of dirt to link a running route that stretches 180 miles from Logan to Park City — every bit of it on the other side of the heavily populated Wasatch Front.

They called it the Wasatch Back Relay.

The first Wasatch Back was held in 2004 with a mere 22 12-person teams — and half of those were friends and relatives of the Hills.

Six years later, not only is the Wasatch Back the biggest running event on the Utah calendar — its cap of 750 12-person teams was reached this year months ahead of the June event — but it has spawned another nine such relays around the country.But word spread fast about the amazing scenery and welcoming, less-traveled backroads.

Collectively, these events are known as the Ragnar Relays. Ragnar is reputedly a ninth-century Norse king renowned for his wild and daring adventures. When it was decided to develop other relays and model them after the Wasatch Back, Ragnar was chosen as the national brand.

The rapid growth and increasing demands of Ragnar caused Steve — who still, incidentally, has that day job — to bow out of the business side of running relays, although Dan remains president of Ragnar.

But the course that got it all started will always be Steve Hill's baby, particularly those 13 miles that glued it all together. Whenever he feels the urge, he can still climb to the top and enjoy the breathless view.

My plan Saturday was to hit the road around 7AM, thinking that would get me to the finish line of the Top of Utah Marathon in Logan around 1030AM. That's when I expected Kristin Barras, one of our trainers, to finish the marathon. Warm weather was forecast but it was cold when I took off, closer to 730 than the 7AM departure I planned. It took me longer than expected to ride from our house to the gate, nearly a half hour. I started up the dirt road apprehensively, fearing that I wouldn't have the stamina to ride to the top without walking, that I would slip and fall due to the loose dusty surface of the road, and that if I couldn't make it to the top without walking I would miss Kristin's finish.

I needn't have worried. I powered to the top, getting off my bike but once to let a truck pass. Otherwise the climb went quickly and relatively easily. Even the descent went faster than expected. I gained confidence the further I rode and eventually let go of the brakes and cruised off the mountain as fast as I could go. I reached the Paradise at 930AM, one and a half hours from the gate, just about exactly half the time it took me in June. I came down the rode whooping and hollering, totally stoked that I conquered the climb. The autumn beauty of the hills matched my joyous mood as I achieved a personal best, something I doubted I could do.

Once in Cache Valley I rode furiously to reach the finish before 1030AM. I was on the way to making it easily when my rear tire went flat. I had been riding along the marathon route, doing a slalom between the orange barriers separating runners from traffic. As I came around one of the orange barriers my tire slipped and I heard a runner gasp. I suddenly realized I had a puncture in my tire. There was no way to make it to Logan on time.

I called Tauni to see if she could pick me up. She was a good three miles from our car, and was waiting with Annie Hedberg to meet Trish and Tasha Bell to run with them to the finish. She wasn't anxious to come get me, and in fact it would have taken her nearly as long to walk to the car and drive to meet me as it would take me to walk into Logan. Fortunately, I had planned to meet a contractor, Bruce Anderson, to talk about our plan for a house in Tanzania. I called him. He picked me up about two miles from the center of Logan, dropped my bike off with Mark Wimmer for repair at Wimmer's Bike Shop, and took me on a tour of his manufacturing plant. Bruce was interesting and very knowledgeable of the technologies being used for third world housing - another one of those amazing people I keep meeting these days. He eventually dropped me off at the finish a short time before Tauni, Annie, Trish and Tasha arrived.

My daughter Nina has been training for the St. George Marathon and had wanted me to join her. After the race Tauni told me I have to go with Nina. This, despite her initial reluctance for me to go. After a couple hours at the finish, she remembered what a big deal these events are. As I told Bruce, being around the finish of a marathon is a bigger thrill than any college football game could be.

I didn't find Kristin, but connected with her by text. She finished in 3:23, a great time but even more remarkable for her not having previously run farther than 13 miles. Before the race I told her I thought she could do under 3:25 based on what I observed of her level of fitness and her recent 1:32 half marathon. The only unknown was her lack of long runs. She proved she is not only a great athlete but very tough.

It was a day of triumph. We are all athletes. We need only train and enter the arena to unlock our potential.

Week 6 - Mari gets engaged and Marci appears

I completed most of Monday's workout, then showered at the gym and drove straight to the airport for my flight to San Diego. That morning Marci Lock appeared for the first time at one of our workouts. She provided an interesting contrast to our other two lead trainers.

Erin appears somewhat stern, barking directions in what I imagine might have been the manner of an East German coach before what the Germans call the "Wendung," (the reunification of East and West Germany). She appears to move through exercises effortlessly with a dancer's flexibility and grace.

Kristin is a natural athlete. She moves with the efficiency of a world-class distance runner, and does so while offering us warm-haerted encouragement. She had been training for the Top of Utah Marathon and it has been fun for me to track her progress and offer encouragement.

Both Erin and Kristin have such obvious athletic gifts it is hard to imagine that any of us could attain their fitness level. On the other hand, when Marci works out, she is everyman (or everywoman). She exhorts and shouts encouragement, while at the same time showing strain and intense exertion as she exercises. She seems to be taking pleasure in the pain of pushing her muscles to level 10, their limits, and in so doing tells me she is one with us in pushing through what we incorrectly assume to be our physical barriers. I was pleasantly surprised at how much her appearance motivated me.

In San Diego, I spent most of the day with one of our fire victim clients, but also arranged to meet Van Tengberg, father of Mari's soon-to-be fiance, for lunch. We had a slight hiccup, as he assumed I would be downtown and I assumed he would be at his Del Mar office. He graciously agreed to meet me at a restaurant in the Del Mar Marriott a bit later than we had planned.

Van was extraordinarily kind and generous, complementary of Mari and appreciative of any help we have provided to Blake. He made a point of showing me an email Blake had written his constitutional law professor who had harshly criticized Mormons, after singling out the Mormons in class, for the Church's advocacy of Proposition 8 and hateful conduct toward gays generally. In the email, Blake stated that Mormons do not hate gays, but consider marriage between a man and woman fundamental for sacred, and for that reason opposed Proposition 8. His professor replied with an almost contrite response, and ultimately gave Blake an A in the class. Van wanted me to know of Blake's character, of which I already had a pretty clear picture.

At the conclusion of lunch Van asked if I had a place to stay for the night. I had a reservation at the Marriott but nonetheless sheepishly accepted his invitation to spend the night in their guest house. I didn't want Van to feel any need to provide accommodations for me, but on the other hand was anxious to spend a bit more time getting to know him and his wife, Sharon, whose family I expected Mari would soon join.

Mari and Brandt had already stayed at their house for a weekend, and Brandt told us it was like the O.C., the late prime time soap opera. The pool house, where I stayed, could in fact be favorably compared to a room in a five star hotel. Van's legal specialty is golf course development, and his love of golf is evident through the pool house, which was replete with golf statuary and books.

After settling in, I returned to the main house where I chatted with Van and Sharon for a couple hours. Youngest son Brady appeared during our visit, shirtless and sweaty from a run. He disappeared and then reappeared to announce his disgust with the Chargers' inability to move the ball on a critical drive inside the opponent's 10-yard line, which I totally get, though I try really hard to avoid caring enough about any football team to get very wound up about whether or not they can move the ball in- or outside the 10-yard line, generally not succeeding in that effort.

What I remember most from the evening with Van and Sharon is their almost tangibly evident love and concern for Blake. Last year was tough for him, recovering from a broken engagement and struggling to do well his first year of law school while living at home and feeling quite lonely. They expressed great fondness for Mari and thanked me more than once for raising her. For me, the experience of hearing and observing their expressions of intense love and concern passed beyond mere emotion into the spiritual realm.

Two days later Blake called Tauni and asked if he could arrange a time on Thursday to meet us briefly. We agreed to meet him late Thursday afternoon in my office. He told us he deeply loves Mari. He told of his plans to ask her to marry him the next day. He said he would always protect and care for her. We shared our own feelings. Again, the experience was very spiritual for me and left me with feelings of joy and contentment.

The next day he took Mari to the Tree Room at Sundance for dinner, and then drove her to an open area on the Alpine Loop, which is ablaze with fall color. His sister, Shardae, was waiting in the weeds with still and video cameras, to record the entire event.

And here is the proposal:

Mari called us immediately afterward, the beginning of an evening of notifying friends and relatives of the engagement. I don't know that I have ever seen a couple quite so smitten or that seemed so well suited for each other. Quite a contrast to my proposal, where the words, "will you marry me?" spilled out of my mouth without premeditation and afterward I was uncertain whether I had done the right thing. Fortunately, it has turned out right for me, and I have great expectations for Mari and Blake.

Otherwise, the week ended with five hard workouts, including a 5-mile run-walk in the Tengberg's neighborhood in Poway. Strange that Mari should find a boy from north San Diego County, where in my professional life I have spent most of my time the past three years trying to help people recover for the devastating losses they suffered in the 2007 San Diego wildfires. At the top of a hill near the Tengberg's house I could see out over the valley to the north where the effects of the fires remain evident. Most vegetation has not come back, and the hills near Poway look like moonscapes. Sharon told me they had prepared to take in refuges from Ramona. Then at 4AM one morning they received a reverse 911 call advising them to evacuate immediately. They managed to gather a few of their cherished possessions and left, expecting their house to be burned to the ground when they returned. Their house was spared; many others in their neighborhood were not so fortunate.

The Poway run was my first effort to test whether my injured right knee and hip could handle a distance longer than a few hundred yards. The jury is still out on that question. Both hip and knee were very sore the rest of the day, but felt much better in the morning. At the moment my inclination is to simply gut my way through the Ragnar Tennessee, even if running can't be part of my regular routine. Tauni is worried that doing so might cause injury that could undo all my hard work. That worry is not lost on me, but at the moment I think I can do it.

Friday morning Marci connected with me by telephone for personal one-on-one coaching. She commented that her observation of my energy is that I am am oracle or a healer. I have no idea what either of those mean, but both sound good. She probed for quite awhile about whether I maintain distance because I am confident or because I am reluctant to approach people. I thought perhaps a bit of both but more because I make a plan and then am quite focused on working through it. She managed to get me to admit that I tend to grade myself harshly, which can lead to the conclusion that I am not good enough and perhaps have a fear of failure. I told her that one of our family values is that it matters more who you are than what you are. We value authenticity. Marci finally asked how I am doing with affirmations. I told her that what I have are few and simple because they need to be something I can believe in and practice. For example, "I am an athlete." She encouraged me to spend more time on internal representations and change them to affirmations. On the one hand, this all makes me think of the obnoxious cousin in the movie "Barcelona," who is reciting the affirmation, "on every day and in every way I am becoming a better Lieutenant Junior Grade," when he is shot. On the other hand, I firmly believe the proverb that what I man thinketh in his heart, so is he. And so it is that Marci is really trying to cause us to put into practice the wisdom of the ages. I am forming and putting into practice my own affirmations, e.g., I will be an influence for good, I am at peace, I am thankful for all the goodness in my life, I will give my best in all that I undertake, I will show unconditional love, and last but not least, I am an athlete.

Last on this post, Monday evening, before heading to the Tengberg's house, I had dinner with Dave Alberga, CEO of Active and a good friend of Dan's. He wanted to meet me, evidently, mainly to learn about our Tanzania housing project because of his interest in economic development in Africa. I told him our story and am eager to introduce him to Wil. We also discussed the state of Ragnar. He was extremely complementary of Dan, acknowledging his talent but more importantly emphasizing Dan's good heart. Dave is obviously highly intelligent and also enthusiastic and charismatic. Later in the week I invited him to join us in Africa in December. He declined due to schedule, but said he would love to go. Maybe someday. He would be a good person to be part of our team. I feel fortunate that I continue to meet people who are making a difference for good in my life.

Weekend 5

The 90 days are racing by. I am about 15 pounds from my goal weight, strongly motivated to make it and then run the Ragnar Tennessee.

Friday's workout included 2 X 50 reps of knee thrusts with each leg, foot attached to cable weight. Quite fun actually, and I could well imagine how this exercise would strengthen legs for cycling, or kicking a football. Between sets we did a lot of high intensity exercises that involved jumping and high knee lifts; it amazes me that I can do either.

The day's plan called for 5 short sprints with jogging recovery intervals. I did 6. I am also amazed that I can still run fast (fast being relative). I did some abs and then decided to do one last sprint for the road. Turned out to be one too many; I felt something pop in the right groin region. Nothing serious, probably a mild strain, but still scary.

Friday evening Tauni and I went to Rob Reiner's new movie, "Flipped," which had me on the brink of tears throughout as it told the story of a teenage romance, alternating between his and her points of view. The period setting was late 50s and early 60s, exactly the time when I was the age of the characters in the film. The film eventually became the story of two families, and in particular showed how in that pre-feminist age the decisions of husbands channeled the lives of wives and children. It captured well the pain I remember well of my first feeble attempts at romance, and especially the difficulty of learning to honestly communicate feelings. It is a fine film, one that both Tauni and I have already recommended to several friends.

Before the film Dan called and asked if I would be interested in watching Wasatch 100 runners come through one of the aid stations. Turned out he had plans to hang out at the Bigwater station in Mill Creek Canyon until he could find a runner to pace to Brighton. I agreed.

He and I both drove to Brighton, where he dropped off his car. We arrived at Brighton around 11PM, where already a few runners were coming through. We made our way to the Brighton store, which was the check in point and aid station for runners. Dan's movements were quick, smooth, electric. He told me he felt like a kid on Christmas morning, so excited was he.

Just inside the Brighton store entrance was a table manned by two burly, bearded guys who apparently had the task of checking in runners and keeping everyone else out. They let Dan pass because he announced he was a pacer; they barred me from entering until I asked whether I would have to pee in the parking lot. This seemed to concern them enough that they let me use the men's room. The scene behind the two guards resembled the bar scene in Star Wars, the runners having hushed voices, angular bodies and expressionless faces, adorned only with gear and clothes essential to surviving cold nighttime temperatures and extreme physical exertion.

I gave Dan a ride from Brighton to Bigwater. As we passed the trail from Bareass Pass and drove through the upper part of the canyon my mind filled with memories of pacing my former law partner Bob "Mad Dog" Henderson nearly 20 years ago. Bob loved the race and probably finished it 15 times or more. At age 64 he was training for this year's event when he became ill with the degenerative brain disease that took his life just a few weeks ago. The year I paced Bob he trained and then ran with a friend the entire race. It was far from his fastest time, but he showed me something of friendship in guiding his friend through the ordeal. Bob's early demise reminds me both to be grateful for every day, and to rage against physical and mental decline. I am determined to continue to strive and to improve.

As we approached Bigwater we saw the headlamps of a number of runners, who at this point were all walking. I noted one with short, quick steps, using long ski poles. Most appeared to be accompanied by pacers, but several were not. The temperature at Bigwater was 34 degrees. I was surprised to see my breath. The volunteers were dressed as though for winter in Alaska -- heavy down parkas, stocking caps, gloves and beards. Dan was dressed in shorts and leggings, but only a t-shirt and light jacket. I happened to bring two light fleece pullovers, which Dan added as additional layers.

Not long after our arrival the ski-poler checked in, and Dan offered to pace him. He gratefully accepted, after warning Dan that he probably would not say more than two words between Bigwater and Brighton. Dan accepted his condition, offering to talk if helpful but remain silent if not. I don't know how that turned out yet. I departed at about 1230am after extracting Dan's promise to call me as soon as he reached Brighton. Dan called around 6am Saturday morning, advising that he arrived safely and that he would tell me stories later.

I finally went to bed around 230am, got up around 715am and headed to the gym for my Saturday morning workout. I saw several of my group members doing sprints and the like. I was still so sore from Friday I decided to do a low impact combo of stationary bike and elliptical.

I met Parky and Neil Dimick around noon at Valley View. We decided to walk and play 9 holes. The day could not have been more perfect, maybe 75 or 80 degrees, no wind, and a cloudless sky. I hit the ball well all day, and shot 45, one of the best rounds of my life. If I had made a couple puts I would have matched my best score ever. No doubt part of the reason I shot so well is that I am stronger than ever, so fatigue never become a factor and my swing was more consistent than usual. Parky told me I owe it to myself to get serious about the game and play more often. It has been years since I played Valley View; it is a wonderful public course with beautiful views and an interesting mountain goat layout.

I had so much fun playing today that I believe Parky just might be right. As he often is. Surprisingly.

Week 5

It appears that Prednizone was not the magic cure to my back woes. Having given it up cold turkey, my back soreness suddenly disappeared following my Monday workout on the stationary bike and elliptical. Also, the range of motion in my right hip has significantly increased and any hip pain has disappeared completely. Seems that exercise is the best cure to an aching body.

Our coaching session this morning was devoted to discussion of turning negative emotions into positives. We went around the room and many of the women, most in tears, described their experiences in doing just that. At the end of class, Meg, who has become a good friend, asked how I was handling all the girl talk. My first thought was that it helps my marriage.

My life experience has taught that we are all in this together, so to speak, in that life eventually throws problems at everyone, and the problems we all face ultimately have to do with life and death. It is interesting and actually inspiring to hear people express how they deal with life's challenges.

Fortunately, this is a truly golden time in my life. I feel blessed in every material way. But at the same time I think there is a hard truth in Norman Maclean's line, describing his feeling following a glorious day of fishing with his father and brother: "But I knew that life is not a work of art, and that the moment could not last." I have begun to learn, better than I ever have, to savor every moment, certainly every good moment. They all are precious, and they are all transitory.

Weekend 4

I thought that we would be flying off to Memphis at 5:45pm Thursday evening. When I checked in Thursday morning I discovered that our arrival time was 5:45 and that we were to depart at 1:45. It was good that we would have an evening in Memphis but we were going to have to hustle. We managed to pull things together quickly and made it to the airport with time to spare. I called Wil before departure, who told me to call when we arrived so we could meet for dinner.

After checking into our hotel, Tauni and I walked the few blocks to Beale Street, which, famous as it still is, seems as though it must have had better days. Live music poured out of a number of clubs along the street, and there were even a couple of bands playing on the sidewalk. I checked out the members of one of the sidewalk bands, most looking as though, whatever their ages, they had accumulated a lot of miles. To appreciate Beale Street I would have to visit with my friend Art Richards, who has spent his adult life studying the history of the blues and rock and roll. Without Art's guidance, we made short work of it.

We met Wil promptly at 8pm at a restaurant called McEwen's. We were joined by a two women from New York - one, Charlotte Seeley (I think), was described as the foremost feminist literary agent in the country. The other, whose name I never caught, is a producer for Sesame Street. We also were joined by publisher from Memphis, whose current project is a book about Chattanooga, Tennessee, describing its environmental revival, and Mark Hurley, currently of Chicago, who explained that he was nine months into a two year sabbatical from JP Morgan.

Charlotte turned out to be the connection between all these people. She and Wil met when Wil was 17 and living alone in New York while attending Brandeis High School, whose students were virtually all black and Hispanic. By this time Wil had already been arrested 3 times for his participation in civil rights marches. Charlotte and two other white women were running a draft counseling center. Wil walked in and explained to Charlotte that there was no way she and her two colleagues could connect with the young blacks and Hispanics in the neighborhood. So Wil took over the counseling center. That lead to a lifelong friendship. Mark met Wil through Charlotte, who introduced Wil to him as someone with a remarkable life story. The publisher was Mark's first employer, and the producer a good friend of Charlotte's.

Wil told us that, back then, he hated white people and either sympathized with or was a member of the Black Panthers. Things have changed, as evidenced by the fact that Wil sponsored my friend Jim Parkinson as the first white member of the 100 Black Men of Columbus, Mississippi.

Toward the end of the evening Wil made some comment about Tauni and I being Mormons. He allowed as how he didn't believe in the religion but she he was a cultural Mormon in that he fully embraced the moral teachings of the church. Charlotte then announced that she is an atheist, looking at me in a way that seemed to require some response. I told her I had no problem with that, to which she said that I must be very tolerant. I said that if she could put up with me I certainly could put up with her. I am not sure that she smiled, thought she seemed to accept our differences.

That dinner, in a microcosm, exemplified what I would observe over and over throughout the weekend -- that Wil has been passionately and effectively involved in a variety of causes throughout his life and had accumulated a wide variety of accomplished friends. He announced at dinner that he is a social liberal and an economic libertarian, which he said means he has no political home (with which Mark agreed). That probably explains why Wil has close friends at both ends of the political spectrum, though he still claims to be a Republican. He also seems to have a number of people who consider him their best friend, and whose children he describes as members of his own family.

The next morning we got up early and took a cab to the train station where we were to board the City of New Orleans for a trip to New Orleans. The train was over an hour late in arriving, so we had breakfast at a diner across the street from the station. We shared an order of sweet potato pancakes, which were amazing. There was a lot of memorabilia in the diner, indicating it has long been a popular spot in Memphis and a frequent movie location.

I thought the trip to New Orleans might take five hours; it took over nine. The sights included a number of run down towns, lots of flat grassy fields, and a few cotton fields. Jackson was an exception to the third world appearance of the countryside.

There was a wide variety of Wil's friends and family on the train. Most slept till be reached Jackson. After that the excitement built and things got livelier the closer we came to New Orleans. In Jackson a group of girls from Tupalo boarded and went straight to the dining car, where Tauni and I happened to be. They all had long, straight bleached hair and wore sleeveless dresses. They were whooping, dancing and drinking to the point that we thought they might pass out before they made it to New Orleans. I returned to our car and told Wil about them, whereupon he took off for the dining car.

As we drew near Wil's young friend Simeon started playing "When the Saints Go Marching In" on the sax and we all sang along. The Gulf of Mexico came into view and I was relieved to see no sign of oil, nor any sign of oil in the bayous, the first I had ever seen. We arrived two hours late in New Orleans and went straight to our hotel. Tauni and I walked several blocks from the hotel, which was in the Warehouse District, to the French Quarter and Bourbon Street. After three blocks she had seen enough. She saw a line of people wating at the Acme Oyster House, which she took as a good sign, so we decided to have dinner there. After a wait of about a half hour we were seated at the bar, where we were treated to tradition New Orleans food - gumbo, jambalaya, red beans, sausage, crawfish tails. We returned to the hotel after dinner, where we noticed an Italian clothing store still open. I tried on a few suits, which I thought were beautiful and inexpensive. I had been planning to wait until I finished the program to buy a new suit, but these were so nice that I thought I would make an exception. Too tired to make a decision, we went to bed. But I came back the next day and bought three. A bit excessive, but the price was less than I had planned to pay for one suit.

Saturday morning we got up early and walked to Jackson Square, where after making a couple laps around the French Quarter we eventually returned for breakfast. I had Creole eggs, which consisted of poached eggs in Creole sauce, and they were marvelous. We spent much of the remainder of the day walking. Tauni commented more than once that she would never want to live in New Orleans or raise a family there. It is rather a moot point, since we never will, but I cannot but appreciate how much the city has revived from the Katrina disaster. New Orleans is a blend of cultures - particularly African American, Cajun/French and Spanish, the likes of which is found nowhere else in the world. The city offers sex, alcohol, food and music in abundance. It seems a monument to the pleasures of the moment.

Saturday evening we finally celebrated Wil's January birthday first with dinner and then at a roast, where his twin sons and daughter took the lead. His beautiful and lively daughter Niani (who reminded me of Nina with her every ready smile and vigilant attention to her two children) began by placing a crown on Wil's head. His son Scott then lead the roast talking about how they always knew Wil grew up poor but that as time went on his childhood became more and more impoverished. Sadly, I can't recall all the examples of Wil's poverty (e.g., his dad rented him out to a sharecropper, he walked 3 miles every day to and from school ... in the snow ... in Mississippi) but Scott had the audience, including Wil and Tauni, nearly doubled over with laughter. He then talked about Wil's political beliefs ("lower taxes"), and his thriftiness, particularly in buying clothes. Andrew continued, followed by Wil's brother Roland, who made a show of weeping over their childhood poverty. Other friends joined in until a couple friends spoke of Wil more seriously. One, a young black lawyer from Atlanta, talked of Wil's integrity. Finally Charlotte, who Wil has known longer than anyone else there present, told the story of the young man alone in New York who took over the draft counseling center. There was also mention of George, an old law professor at Ole Miss, whose daughter Wil treated as his own.

Wil was warm and high-spirited throughout the weekend. The love of his family and friends was obvious. I am not sure how exactly to process it all. Except to say it is obvious Wil has lived with passion and integrity, and made a difference in the lives of many people.

As for Tauni and me, it was good to be together. We spent a lot of time walking, and I think she enjoyed the sights and the company. Unfortunately, I came down with a severe cold that got worse as the weekend wore on. By the time we got home I sick enough that Tauni suggested I stay home rather than join Nina and Kyle and the boys at the cabin. That was undoubtedly a good decision for Nina's family and good for me, as I managed to sleep nearly ten hours and feel much better this morning. I even managed a workout on an exercise bike and elliptical. My back was very sore this morning but felt a lot better after working out. Odd that through this process my knee feels better and better but my back has been the limiting factor. I don't know what that tells me but it does cause me to regulate what I do.

Week 4

My official workouts this week ended a couple days early. It is Thursday afternoon and Tauni and I currently are on an airplane en route to Memphis. Tomorrow we ride the train they call the City of New Orleans to New Orleans for Wil Colom’s 60^th birthday celebration. I have met Wil’s daughter and his wife, Dorothy, as well as his nephew, Carl. I also know a few of his friends, including, of course, Parky, and Derrick and Leticia Johnson. I hope to see New Orleans lawyer Maury Herman on Saturday. Otherwise, I have no idea what to expect, other than perhaps assorted members of the Colom family and of the 100 Black Men of Columbus, Mississippi.

Workouts Monday and Tuesday were tough. Monday was a long, painful lower body workout, and Tuesday and intense series of anaerobic exercises. I flew Tuesday morning to Denver, met that afternoon with my client, Bob Dunlap, and then wandered the 16^th Street Mall in the evening. I have never seen Denver’s downtown area as anything but a rather sterile series of high-rise office buildings, but 16^th Street does have a bit of historic charm, though I wouldn’t go so far as to call it lively.

I stayed at Denver’s downtown Marriott, which turned out to have an excellent fitness center equipped with dumbbells and weight machines. I took the 90-Day training plan for Wednesday with me, which called for a series of bicep, tricep and shoulder exercises. Shortly after I started working out, a guy about 6’6”, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Gaston, walked in. Veins popped from his biceps, which were roughly the diameter of my thighs, only vastly firmer. It was mildly amusing for me to struggle to do curls with 15 pound dumbbells while Gaston did the same exercise with dumbbells the weight of anvils. My consolation was that he appeared spent after maybe 7 reps, while I struggled through my standard 20 reps and 10 minis. After trashing my arms and shoulders I completed a series of ab exercises.

Following my workout I dressed quickly and headed to the office of Dunlap’s Denver lawyer, Flip Rouse, Esq., who cheerfully greeted me on my arrival. He was nattily attired in a pin striped dress shirt and well-pressed cargo pants, which I took to be a uniquely Colorado twist on business casual. I had to haul two briefcases full of documents, as well as my suitcase, to Flip’s office. I felt so generally weak, and my back so sore, from that week’s workouts that even carrying my smaller briefcase any distance pushed me close to level 10. I didn’t see this as a good sign, but not necessarily a bad one either. I figured I would feel better, but wasn’t sure when. I could only hope that my strained back and other fatigued muscles would come around before Thursday’s workout and, if not then, by the beginning of next week.

Dragging my briefcase around the airport following Dunlap’s deposition didn’t make me optimistic that I would feel better very soon. I arrived home too tired to do much of anything besides cook myself a bowl of oatmeal, and plop myself into the easy chair in my office to watch the DVD of the old 70s movie “Robin and Marian” on my iMac. Sean Connery seemed amused in his Robin Hood role, Richard Harris completely over-the-top and ridiculous as Richard the Lionhearted, and Audrey Hepburn luminous as Marian. About 45 minutes into the movie I recalled that I needed to pick up a prescription before the pharmacy closed. As I headed out the door Tauni asked how I liked the movie. I replied, “They don’t make them like that anymore,” to which we both immediately added, “Fortunately.”

Upon my return from the pharmacy, after I fidgeted through another half hour or so of the movie, my brother Tracy called to give me his take on BYU going independent. He had already written a lengthy comment on the subject on our family website, so he mostly repeated himself. Tracy is brilliant, and I thought his arguments sound, but he has a need to repeat himself and seek reassurance, which I was happy to provide. I like the thought of BYU playing basketball with the Catholics and the good Christians at Pepperdine. Seems like a nice cultural fit. And there is symmetry to BYU beginning a rivalry with Gonzaga, alma mater of Utah Jazz great John Stockton. Also, for BYU’s emerging women’s soccer team, playing against national powers Portland and Santa Clara can only provide a boost. As for football, if the goal is exposure, the ESPN deal assures that. The money doesn’t hurt either. As for the ethics of dumping the MWC, the MWC hasn’t done much for the Cougs lately, and in this supposedly capitalist country chasing a better opportunity seems the quintessentially American.

All of which brings me to this morning. I was expecting a painful and difficult workout, but instead I felt great and managed to work hard without aid of back or knee brace. Part of the recovery was simply the result of a good night’s rest. And perhaps part was a benefit of taking Aleve. The unknown was how much Prednizone, a corticosteroid, contributed to my rapid recovery. A few weeks ago my dermatologist prescribed Prednizone for a rash, and after a day or two of the recommended dosage not only did the rash but also painful canker sores go away. The second week of the program the canker sores recurred. I took 10 mg before bedtime and in the morning not only my mouth but also my back felt better. I attributed the back improvement to sleeping with a brace, but Tauni immediately concluded that the Prednizone had done the trick. It apparently having helped once, I took 10 mg last night and this morning my back was much improved and I otherwise felt strong and lively. I worked out on a stationary bike and elliptical this morning, both of which I am used to doing, but still the sudden absence of bad pain was a surprise. Not only was my back improved but my knee felt better following today’s workout than it has at any time since I injured it seven years ago.

I don’t know whether the Prednizone made the difference. If it did, it is easy to understand why world-class athletes have succumbed to the steroid temptation. The hardest part of training is dealing with injuries and fatigue. Assuming steroids aid recovery, athletes can train harder and become more fit. I have friends who played college football during the steroid era. Pills were freely disseminated ito players in the 70s and 80s. Back then players were incredulous that use of steroids could even be an issue because steroids were such a normal part of their training regimen. I have no intention of seriously juicing up, but I certainly appreciate the relief that my small dose seems to have provided.

There have been two themes to our coaching this week. First, we need to step up our nutrition, and specifically to eat more alkaline and less acidic foods, ideally in a ratio of 80/20. My new friend Ryan Peterson explained that cancer cells simply cannot survive in an alkaline environment. Certainly countries whose diets are high on alkaline foods have lower cancer rates than those whose diets are more acidic, such as, e.g, the US. During the first four weeks of the program my diet has trended toward more alkaline foods and the benefits have been obvious.

Second, we are encouraged to transform our view of who we are. For me, this process is well underway. In the year or so before I began the program, I had concluded with dismay the aging process was both accelerating and irreversible. My joints seemed to be breaking down and my weight steadily increasing. At the Ragnar Wasatch Back I decided to take steps to reverse the trend, first by improving my diet, and second by enrolling in the program. I have lost nearly 20 pounds since the Wasatch Back, more than half since I began the program. My knees and hips feel better, and, to my surprise, I have discovered that I can still jump and run fast. I feel a good 10 years younger, and again see myself as an athlete. In addition, I have been calmer, more confident and more at peace than I can remember. I am eager to start the day, and find it easy to get up early. My goal of running the Ragnar Tennessee seems increasingly possible, something I had thought I could never do. It has even been easy to overcome what I thought were my addictions, Coke Zero and sugar. I have mostly eliminated sugar from my diet (it is an ingredient in so many foods that eliminating it completely is, well, nearly impossible). I have cut out Coke completely. My concept of self and what I can do has changed.

May the transformation continue.