Eighteen years ago this week I arrived in Siberia as a brand new missionary. The comfort of the Missionary Training Center was nearly 6,000 miles away. Those first days were hard, really hard. At this time of year the sun rises in Novosibirsk around ten o'clock in the morning and goes down around five o'clock in the evening. Temperatures ranged from -20 degrees Celsius during the day to something even colder during the night. Newly arrived in a foreign place at the beginning of a two-year sojourn, I felt a bit overwhelmed.
As I struggled through each of those first days I wondered what it would take for all of it to feel normal. With Christmas only days away homesickness started to settle in more deeply. At some point we decided as a district to go Christmas caroling. None of us were certain the last time, if ever, someone had sang Christmas carols in public in Novosibirsk. With our Russian hymnals in hand four of us set out looking for places to sing. Besides myself our group consisted of my companion from Helena, Montana, our district leader from Finland, and his companion who also was from Utah.
Culturally, Russians tend to be very closed off in public situations. The sudden appearance of four foreigners, singing what we're likely unfamiliar songs, had an interesting impact on those passing by us. We sang for a time outside a store and then, in an effort to be a little warmer, we moved into one of the Metro hallways. Some people, unsure how to react to us, simply put their head down and walked by, pretending that we didn't exist. Others looked at us with obvious disapproval. A small handful gave us a short smile.
There in the Metro, as we were singing "Silent Night" in Russian (Тихая ночь, дивная ночь), I looked around at my fellow missionaries. Despite the unfamiliar surroundings and despite the unwelcoming reactions of those passing by, I saw on their faces a sense of peace and love. The same feelings came over me. I felt my frozen cheeks surrounded by a large, wool scarf and covered by a fur shapka, break out into a smile of joy.
That same week we attended the branch Christmas party. We were joined by new Saints in celebrating the birth of our Savior. Together we sang the beautiful Christmas carols in a new language, a language that I would come to love. After two weeks of eating unfamiliar foods I was rewarded with a meal consisting of a small beef steak and mashed potatoes. Outside of the companionship of fellow believers, I don't think the Lord could have given me a better gift than that meal.
Celebrating Christmas that year, in 1994, I received the assurance from the Lord that I was doing his work in the right place. A small gathering of Saints showed me the promises the Lord had in store for those in Novosibirsk. My perception changed from wondering if I could survive two years in Siberia to that of considering the possibilities of what I could do, experience, give, and learn during that time. I thank the Lord for the tender mercies offered me in that season as the celebration of His Son's birth brought me the comfort I so desperately needed.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Saturday, December 14, 2013
A Spiritual Feast in the High Desert
The last month or so has been eventful for our family. My father returned from his deployment to the Middle East. I was called to serve as bishop of the Whitney Ranch Ward. All of my side of the family came out for our third running of the Las Vegas Ragnar. We capped the visit off with an early Thanksgiving dinner put on by my mother. Emmalee went to a marching band competition in California. Wrestling season started for Elijah and he already has his first tournament under his belt. Isaiah finally convinced his mother to let him start wrestling. Gracee played in her first few lacrosse games. She even scored a goal in one game. Clara started walking. Elizabeth is just busy all of the time.
In the midst of all the exciting events I managed to come down with a cold last weekend. The timing wasn't great since I had to take a road trip to San Bernardino on Wednesday and Thursday. As my departure time on Wednesday evening approached, I felt less and less happy about the prospect of making that drive out and back with the cold and my lack of sleep. The trip was to provide some initial services to some very large clients for work making the trip difficult to cancel. At the last minute, thinking of the drive through the high desert, I grabbed a set of CDs from the October 2002 General Conference. What started out looking as a very depressing trip became a spiritual and educational trip.
Below are the links to a few of the talks with some excerpts that I particularly enjoyed:
"Rise to Your Call," Elder Henry B. Eyring
In the midst of all the exciting events I managed to come down with a cold last weekend. The timing wasn't great since I had to take a road trip to San Bernardino on Wednesday and Thursday. As my departure time on Wednesday evening approached, I felt less and less happy about the prospect of making that drive out and back with the cold and my lack of sleep. The trip was to provide some initial services to some very large clients for work making the trip difficult to cancel. At the last minute, thinking of the drive through the high desert, I grabbed a set of CDs from the October 2002 General Conference. What started out looking as a very depressing trip became a spiritual and educational trip.
Below are the links to a few of the talks with some excerpts that I particularly enjoyed:
"Rise to Your Call," Elder Henry B. Eyring
"The person who called you did not issue the call simply
because he learned by interviewing you that you were worthy and willing to
serve. He prayed to know the Lord’s will
for you. It was prayer and revelation to
those authorized of the Lord, which brought you here. Your call is an example of a source of power
unique to the Lord’s Church. Men and
women are called of God by prophecy and by the laying on of hands by those God
has authorized.
"You are called to represent the Savior. Your voice to testify becomes the same as His
voice, your hands to lift the same as His hands. His work is to bless His Father’s spirit
children with the opportunity to choose eternal life. So, your calling is to bless lives. That will be true even in the most ordinary
tasks you are assigned and in moments when you might be doing something not
apparently connected to your call. Just
the way you smile or the way you offer to help someone can build their
faith. And should you forget who you
are, just the way you speak and the way you behave can destroy faith.
"Your call has eternal consequences for others and for
you. In the world to come, thousands may
call your name blessed, even more than the people you serve here. They will be the ancestors and the
descendants of those who chose eternal life because of something you said or
did, or even what you were. If someone
rejects the Savior’s invitation because you did not do all you could have done,
their sorrow will be yours. You see,
there are no small callings to represent the Lord. Your call carries grave responsibility. But you need not fear, because with your call
come great promises."
"There will be times when you will feel overwhelmed. One of the ways you will be attacked is with
the feeling that you are inadequate.
Well, you are inadequate to answer a call to represent God with only
your own powers. But you have access to
more than your natural capacities, and
you do not work alone.
"The Lord will magnify what you say and what you do in the
eyes of the people you serve. He will
send the Holy Ghost to manifest to them that what you spoke was true. What you say and do will carry hope and give
direction to people far beyond your natural abilities and your own
understanding. That miracle has been a
mark of the Lord’s Church in every dispensation."
"That They May Be One in Us," Elder D. Todd Christofferson
"Surely we will not be one with God and Christ until we make
Their will and interest our greatest desire.
Such submissiveness is not reached in a day, but through the Holy
Spirit, the Lord will tutor us if we are willing until, in process of time, it
may accurately be said that He is in us as the Father is in Him. At times I tremble to consider what may be
required, but I know that it is only in this perfect union that a fullness of
joy can be found. I am grateful beyond
expression that I am invited to be one with those holy beings I revere and
worship as my Heavenly Father and Redeemer."
"Encircled in the Arms of His Love," Elder Neal A. Maxwell
"In the churn of crises and the sinister swirl of global
events, true disciples will maintain faith in a revealing, loving God and in
His plan for redeeming His children, which plan is the why of all that God
does! Furthermore, God’s character, as
revealed to us, tells us that He has the cosmic capacity to ensure that He
really is ‘able’ to do His immense work."
"The restored gospel is buoyant, wide, and deep—beyond our
comprehension. It edifies whether
concerning divine design in the universe or stressing the importance of
personal chastity and fidelity. Only
meek disciples can safely handle such a bold theology."
"How can we know that God is aware of us and loves us? He tells us by the scriptures—likewise, by
our honestly counting the blessings and bestowals of His grace in our
lives. Most of all, He tells us by the
still, small voice of the Spirit!"
“…brothers and sisters, what keeps us from knowing and
loving Him more? Our reluctance to give
away all our sins—thinking, instead, a down payment will do. Likewise, our reluctance to let our wills be
swallowed up in His will—thinking, instead, that merely acknowledging His will
is sufficient!”
A normally long and boring trip through the desert became a spiritual feast.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Profile of a Ragnarian: Jarad Van Wagoner
Over the past year I've watched as a friend from my hometown has achieved a degree of fame as a competitive participant in Obstacle Course Racing and trail marathon circuits. Frankly, his accomplishments are impressive, but like my other friend Brett always says: "Running skinny is easy. It's like golfing from the fairway."
After my last few races I've waited at the finish line for someone to come interview me in an attempt to ascertain the secret to my success. Alas, nobody from Runners' World has been there to record my compelling story and background. So, in order to meet the demands of my reading public, I'm going to interview myself and provide you with a very informational profile.
Name: Jarad Van Wagoner
Age: 37 (for at least two more weeks)
High School Mascot: Eagle
Favorite Running Aid: Body Glide
Let's get to the important issues first. Do you tend to have any digestive issues when you run?
Please define digestive issues.
You know, do you have any problems with diarrhea or anything like that when you run races, especially the relays?
Well that seems kind of personal, but, yeah on occasion I've had to pick up the pace to make it to the next set of outhouses or Honey Buckets. It's not a regular problem though, at least not enough to earn a nickname like Deucer. I have, however, ran relays with people who define the entire experience around their digestive life.
What do you do to correct or control your digestive issues?
First of all, I relax. After having ran several races I know what to expect which is that while I may not be very fast, I will finish. Second, I make sure that I consume enough calories. The biggest mistake I've made during a relay is to choose sleep over a meal. I can run on very little sleep, but my bowels reject the concept of running without sufficient nutrition. You must avoid my sister's experience as described in these previous blog: Shot Blocks and Miracles on Leg 27.
Once your bowels put you into panic mode on a race, I've found that calm meditation generally is the best remedy.
Who is your favorite training partner for the relays?
Usually I like to train with my wife, especially when she's out of shape because it makes me feel fast. The downside is that she has longer legs than me, so once she gets in good physical condition she starts to run faster than me. Last time she finally slowed down when she got pregnant.
Which of your Ragnar teammates do you look up to most?
That would be my friend Brett. He's pretty tall. I also look up to my brother-in-law Nathan Feltch because he's pretty tall as well. I do feel that Nate became a little shorter, however, after I watched him trip and roll through a patch of sage brush along a lonely stretch of highway outside of Las Vegas one night in 2011. Unfortunately he also fell again at the end of that run, right after he handed off the slap bracelet at the exchange. He fell stepping off of the curb, scraping up his already bloodied legs even more and spraining his ankle. Watching someone put a maxi pad on his knee to stem the bleeding seems to have shortened him even further. But, yeah, I still look up to Nate and to Brett.
Describe one or two of of your favorite Ragnar legs you've ran.
Usually the night runs are my favorite. There's something relaxing and liberating about running at night. On my second Wasatch Back I ran from Coalville to Wanship early in the morning. The trail runs a short distance from the freeway and adjacent to pastures and fields, coming close to the river once or twice. I love the feeling of isolation when I run at night. During that run I only came across a few other runners and the tall brush added to the effect of being alone. Even with the smell of skunks in the air, it was an amazing run. I ran into the next exchange just as the sun was coming up.
My next favorite run was on the Ragnar Trail Experiment at the Zion Ponderosa Ranch. Prior to my run it had rained all day and it was still raining at 11pm as I began my run on the Green Trail. The mud was over the top of my shoes as I started out from the exchange. With the rain falling all around, the light from my headlamp wasn't very effective at illuminating anything more than three or four feet in front of me. Mud, hills, and rain tortured me throughout the entire run making it a challenge to move forward and stay on my feet. I fell on my hands an knees more than once trying to come back up out of the ravine. By the end, I was completely exhausted and thrilled at what I had just done. Check out the story here: Experimental Trail Running
Describe one or two of your worst Ragnar legs.
Well, on the Ragnar Trail Experiment at Zion Ponderosa Ranch, it rained the entire time during one of my trail runs.
Heat usually makes the runs challenging in a way that I do not enjoy. Both times I've ran in SoCal, my first leg has been in 100 plus degree heat. I really do not enjoy running in the heat.
Tell us about the vans on a Ragnar. What makes the interior environment so enjoyable?
Some would try to convince you that it's the camaraderie that makes it so enjoyable. I don't think that's it. I believe that it is the intoxicating odor of sweat from multiple bodies that makes it so enjoyable. Once you learn to identify all of your van mates by their own unique odor, you truly bond. My friend Brett always puts all of his running clothes in a plastic bag. Brett sweats a lot so the bag is usually pretty full of liquid and weighs 10-12 pounds.
Snoring is another big bonus. You get to find out who snores loudly and their own special pattern. The best is when you have two people snoring at the same time in the van, with their snores offsetting one another so that there is no quiet time. It gets even better when you add someone to that mix who keeps complaining out loud so that nobody else can get to sleep.
Do team members ever become irritable or grumpy from the exhaustion and bad digestive issues?
No, but I've noticed that as my team members get more exhausted they tend to think less clearly and then they say and do very stupid and irritable things.
What is your fantasy in terms of your racing career?
First, I would like to be able to look really good running in just shorts with no shirt. The second, and perhaps more likely, is that someone will one day pay me to run races to include all of the Ragnar Relays.
What Ragnar events are at the top of your bucket list (ones you haven't run yet)?
- Ragnar Trail Tahoe
- Northwest Passage
- Colorado (after a lot of training)
What Ragnar Events Have You Run?
- SoCal 2011
- Wasatch Back 2011
- Las Vegas 2011
- SoCal 2012
- Wasatch Back 2012
- Ragnar Trail Experiment 2012
- Las Vegas 2012
- Ragnar Trail Zion 2013
- Wasatch Back 2013
- Las Vegas 2013
- Del Sol 2014
- Ragnar Trail Zion 2014
- Wasatch Back 2014 (Registered)
What other amazing events have you run?
- Ogden Marathon 2010
- Provo Canyon Half Marathon 2010
- American Discover Trail Marathon 2010
- Hurrican Jem Trail Half Marathon 2010
- Red Mountain 30K 2011
- Ogden Marathon 2011
- Ogden Marathon 2012
- Ogden Marathon 2013
- Ogden Marathon 2014 (Registered, will probably die)
After my last few races I've waited at the finish line for someone to come interview me in an attempt to ascertain the secret to my success. Alas, nobody from Runners' World has been there to record my compelling story and background. So, in order to meet the demands of my reading public, I'm going to interview myself and provide you with a very informational profile.
Name: Jarad Van Wagoner
Age: 37 (for at least two more weeks)
High School Mascot: Eagle
Favorite Running Aid: Body Glide
Let's get to the important issues first. Do you tend to have any digestive issues when you run?
Please define digestive issues.
You know, do you have any problems with diarrhea or anything like that when you run races, especially the relays?
Well that seems kind of personal, but, yeah on occasion I've had to pick up the pace to make it to the next set of outhouses or Honey Buckets. It's not a regular problem though, at least not enough to earn a nickname like Deucer. I have, however, ran relays with people who define the entire experience around their digestive life.
What do you do to correct or control your digestive issues?
First of all, I relax. After having ran several races I know what to expect which is that while I may not be very fast, I will finish. Second, I make sure that I consume enough calories. The biggest mistake I've made during a relay is to choose sleep over a meal. I can run on very little sleep, but my bowels reject the concept of running without sufficient nutrition. You must avoid my sister's experience as described in these previous blog: Shot Blocks and Miracles on Leg 27.
Once your bowels put you into panic mode on a race, I've found that calm meditation generally is the best remedy.
Who is your favorite training partner for the relays?
Usually I like to train with my wife, especially when she's out of shape because it makes me feel fast. The downside is that she has longer legs than me, so once she gets in good physical condition she starts to run faster than me. Last time she finally slowed down when she got pregnant.
Which of your Ragnar teammates do you look up to most?
That would be my friend Brett. He's pretty tall. I also look up to my brother-in-law Nathan Feltch because he's pretty tall as well. I do feel that Nate became a little shorter, however, after I watched him trip and roll through a patch of sage brush along a lonely stretch of highway outside of Las Vegas one night in 2011. Unfortunately he also fell again at the end of that run, right after he handed off the slap bracelet at the exchange. He fell stepping off of the curb, scraping up his already bloodied legs even more and spraining his ankle. Watching someone put a maxi pad on his knee to stem the bleeding seems to have shortened him even further. But, yeah, I still look up to Nate and to Brett.
Describe one or two of of your favorite Ragnar legs you've ran.
Usually the night runs are my favorite. There's something relaxing and liberating about running at night. On my second Wasatch Back I ran from Coalville to Wanship early in the morning. The trail runs a short distance from the freeway and adjacent to pastures and fields, coming close to the river once or twice. I love the feeling of isolation when I run at night. During that run I only came across a few other runners and the tall brush added to the effect of being alone. Even with the smell of skunks in the air, it was an amazing run. I ran into the next exchange just as the sun was coming up.
My next favorite run was on the Ragnar Trail Experiment at the Zion Ponderosa Ranch. Prior to my run it had rained all day and it was still raining at 11pm as I began my run on the Green Trail. The mud was over the top of my shoes as I started out from the exchange. With the rain falling all around, the light from my headlamp wasn't very effective at illuminating anything more than three or four feet in front of me. Mud, hills, and rain tortured me throughout the entire run making it a challenge to move forward and stay on my feet. I fell on my hands an knees more than once trying to come back up out of the ravine. By the end, I was completely exhausted and thrilled at what I had just done. Check out the story here: Experimental Trail Running
Describe one or two of your worst Ragnar legs.
Well, on the Ragnar Trail Experiment at Zion Ponderosa Ranch, it rained the entire time during one of my trail runs.
Heat usually makes the runs challenging in a way that I do not enjoy. Both times I've ran in SoCal, my first leg has been in 100 plus degree heat. I really do not enjoy running in the heat.
Tell us about the vans on a Ragnar. What makes the interior environment so enjoyable?
Some would try to convince you that it's the camaraderie that makes it so enjoyable. I don't think that's it. I believe that it is the intoxicating odor of sweat from multiple bodies that makes it so enjoyable. Once you learn to identify all of your van mates by their own unique odor, you truly bond. My friend Brett always puts all of his running clothes in a plastic bag. Brett sweats a lot so the bag is usually pretty full of liquid and weighs 10-12 pounds.
Snoring is another big bonus. You get to find out who snores loudly and their own special pattern. The best is when you have two people snoring at the same time in the van, with their snores offsetting one another so that there is no quiet time. It gets even better when you add someone to that mix who keeps complaining out loud so that nobody else can get to sleep.
Do team members ever become irritable or grumpy from the exhaustion and bad digestive issues?
No, but I've noticed that as my team members get more exhausted they tend to think less clearly and then they say and do very stupid and irritable things.
What is your fantasy in terms of your racing career?
First, I would like to be able to look really good running in just shorts with no shirt. The second, and perhaps more likely, is that someone will one day pay me to run races to include all of the Ragnar Relays.
What Ragnar events are at the top of your bucket list (ones you haven't run yet)?
- Ragnar Trail Tahoe
- Northwest Passage
- Colorado (after a lot of training)
What Ragnar Events Have You Run?
- SoCal 2011
- Wasatch Back 2011
- Las Vegas 2011
- SoCal 2012
- Wasatch Back 2012
- Ragnar Trail Experiment 2012
- Las Vegas 2012
- Ragnar Trail Zion 2013
- Wasatch Back 2013
- Las Vegas 2013
- Del Sol 2014
- Ragnar Trail Zion 2014
- Wasatch Back 2014 (Registered)
What other amazing events have you run?
- Ogden Marathon 2010
- Provo Canyon Half Marathon 2010
- American Discover Trail Marathon 2010
- Hurrican Jem Trail Half Marathon 2010
- Red Mountain 30K 2011
- Ogden Marathon 2011
- Ogden Marathon 2012
- Ogden Marathon 2013
- Ogden Marathon 2014 (Registered, will probably die)
Friday, August 30, 2013
Confessions of a Sewer Rat
After a recent blog post about previous jobs, I thought I should share some stories about one of my favorites from high school. Enjoy.
WARNING! THE POST BELOW CONTAINS SOME GRAPHIC AND STINKY DETAILS
At some point when I was in high school my father, who was a deputy sheriff at the time in our small town, decided to open a sewer cleaning business. He purchased a nice high pressure water snake , an old fashioned sewer snake, and a very cool small, red pickup truck...a red truck with a canopy. Admittedly I was excited when he first been discussing the idea of opening our own family business. It sounded adventurous and profitable.
My optimism quickly dissipated as I helped on our first job in Roosevelt. Of course, it should have been obvious that working with the transportation system of human biological waste wouldn't be the most desirable job in the world. Despite my sudden decline in interest, it wasn't long before I was trained and doing jobs on my own.
While the job wasn't the most pleasant, it did pay well and made for some great stories.
Gear and Rules
There are three key pieces of personal protective gear to being a safe and effective sewer line cleaning technician. First, you must have a proper pair of gloves. Heavy duty, rubber coated gloves are necessary. Sometimes you can get away with the coated cloth gloves that go to the wrist. On most jobs, however, I preferred the solid rubber gloves that went almost to my elbows. It's best not to allow the line from the snake touch your skin or clothes directly if you can help it. Second, you need eye protection. Because I wore glasses at the time, I just used those instead of wearing uncomfortable goggles. Unfortunately they served their purpose more than once and were spattered with waste. Finally, you need a good source of clean rags to clean the snakes off as you pulled them out.
Now for a couple of rules. Keep your mouth shut when pulling a snake out of a line. Under no circumstances do you want someone's waste landing in your mouth. It would leave a permanent psychological scar and possibly lingering health issues. Never turn on the pressure cleaner (jetter) until the head and line are safely in the sewage line. Never pull the head of the jetter out of the line with the pump running.
It's also important to realize that a sense of smell can be a serious curse.
Female Hygiene
During an early job I was sent to a neighbors house to clean out a line. Luckily I had access to clean out valve outside. It's always easier to do the jobs from outside a home as access is easier and you don't have to be as careful about making messes. After an initial check of the line it became clear that there was a solid block in the line that required more than the pressure cleaner. Using the mechanical snake with a drill attachment I fed the in line in. Once I knew the end of the snake had grabbed something I pulled it out to investigate the obstacle at hand. As the line came out I saw that what appeared to be large engorged cotton balls were wedged into the end of the snake. Reaching down I pulled the first one off and stared at it trying to figure out what I had. Pulling it apart to try to solve the mystery, I suddenly realized i was holding a used tampon in my hand.
Suddenly I found myself very angry with three people. First, I was angry with my dad for getting us into this business. Because of his entrepreneurial spirit his 17 year old son was sitting there holding a strange woman's used tampon. Second, I was angry with the woman. It seemed obvious that you shouldn't flush tampons down the toilet. Third, I was angry with myself for not being somewhere else at that moment. For instance, the county jail suddenly seemed a lot more inviting.
Unfortunately, the lady of the house was standing next to me, anxious to have her plumbing back in order. As I kneel there in the field with my morbid discovery she leaned over my shoulder and asked, "What is it?"
Apparently the swell factor was enough to distort the item beyond identification for her, or she didn't want to accept what it was. I looked up with her, my face red and shaking with anger, embarrassment and abject horror. Whispering between clenched teeth I forced myself to say, "A tampon. It's a lot of tampons. You can't flush tampons down the toilet." Suddenly realizing what kind of dialogue she was having with a young man, she muttered a little shriek and ran to her house.
In short order I was able to pull out the remainder of the used feminine hygiene products from the sewer line. Eventually, and sadly, I progressed to the point where pulling used tampons and other items from sewer lines was no big deal. The first time, however, was quite the ride.
A Skunk Would Be Better
One of my favorite experiences surprisingly didn't happen to me directly. My dad and I were on a job together trying to clear out a blockage on single wide trailer. Anytime you need to go into a crawl space it's always beneficial to have someone on the outside to turn the pressure cleaner on and off. Upon arrival at the job I set the machine up while my dad put on his overalls and crawled under the trailer.
We knew it would be messy because their was raw sewage backed up into the bathtub. Whatever clean out we opened, sewage was going to spill under the trailer. The best thing to do in these situations is find a way to release the dirty water into a spot away from where you will have to lay. Unfortunately this job started out badly. As my dad was trying to move one of the sewer lines the connection under the bathtub came loose and created a veritable shower of sewage. This of course put my dad into a poor demeanor.
It's important to understand that this jetter, or pressure cleaner, shoots water out at an extremely high pressure. The heads are designed to shoot one stream straight ahead and multiple streams to the side and rear. This design allows the high pressure water to cut through the blockage, propel the line forward, and clean the sides of the line.
Once he had the sewage pipe open he fed the end of the jetter in and pushed it around the first corner. With the line loaded he asked me to flip it on. I clicked it on and the pump started to hum, shooting water out at a crisp 4500 psi. Within less than a minute the lady in the house opened her back door and yelled at me, "I think your dad wants you to turn the machine off?"
"Why? I haven't heard him say anything."
She yells back, "Well, he's pounding like hell on my floor."
I turned it off as quickly as I could and yelled at my dad to see what he needed. I didn't get a reply so I yelled again. Soon I realized from the sound that he was crawling out from under the trailer. Confused I leaned over by the entrance to see what he was doing when suddenly I saw my dad's face burst into the light with his eyes squished shut as tightly as he could, his lips pressed closed, and sewer water dripping down his face. After a short second of shock and deep, deep amusement I grabbed a towel and pressed it into his hand so he could wipe his face.
With his face clean enough to venture opening his eyes, he looked at me accusingly and asked with more than a twinge of anger, "Why didn't you shut it off when I started pounding?"
"I didn't hear you pounding. I was standing next the pump and didn't hear you. What happened?"
In angry voice he explained how the head of the pressure line turned back on itself instead of going around the corner. As soon as I turned it on it sprayed sewer water directly into his face and continued to spray all over him while he waited for me to turn it off. With raw sewage dripping down his face he couldn't open his mouth to yell at me.
I'm not one to use foul language, but I have to say that was the only time I ever saw my dad totally #$#%faced.
Frosty and Cassanova
Cleaning frozen lines during the winter is a very uncomfortable proposition. I once spent six hours in sub zero temperature trying unsuccessfully to clear a frozen line on a farm in Neola. It took me hours to warm up, but it wasn't the worst. One night in Duchesne I was called out to clear a frozen line on a trailer. Knowing that I would be working under the trailer I called my friend Ryon to help run the pump on the jetter for me. The temperature outside was well below freezing, but it wasn't nearly as cold right under the trailer. In an attempt to break through the frozen line as quickly as possible we hooked the jetter up to the hot water heater. Usually this will help get through a large portion of the frozen line quickly.
With everything hooked up and the line in the pipe, Ryon flipped the switch. One drawback is that the jetter pushes all the water back into the work space while you work through the blockage. Within a few minutes I was laying in a pool of melted sewer water and warm water from the water heater. Despite the content of the water I unashamedly enjoyed the fact that at least it was warm...in the beginning.
Ryon checked in with me once or twice the first little while. I don't remember how long it took to finally free the block but by the time it broke through the water coming out of the jetter was cold. While the temperature under trailer was higher than it was outside, laying in the now cold water had lowered my body temperature and soaked my heavy overalls through completely. With the job wrapped up I yelled for Ryon to turn the pump off but received no response. Grabbing my gear I crawled outside and couldn't find him anywhere. I turned the pump off and reeled in the hose. By the time the hose was reeled in I was was bitterly cold and could feel my overalls starting to freeze on the outside.
In freezing temperatures, all the water in the pump and line of the jetter must be cleared immediately and replaced with anti-freeze. Failure to do so can crack the pump or split the lines. With frozen hands and body, I went through the process as quickly as I could wondering to where my help had wondered off. Just as I was loading the jetter back into the truck, shaking uncontrollably, Ryon and the client, a beautiful lady who had graduated from high school just a few years ahead of us, walked out of the trailer.
Ryon said, "Oh, are you finished. Sorry, she invited me in for a cup of hot cocoa so I could warm up."
I don't remember what I said but it wasn't very nice and he laughed at me in response. The drive home was extremely painful as was the shower I took. In the shower I had to leave the water on cold for twenty or so minutes before I could begin to turn the temperature up. As stood there shaking, thinking I would never be warm again, I kept picturing Ryon sitting across from the pretty lady enjoying a hot cup of cocoa.
A Slap in the Face
My final, and perhaps best story, once again involved Ryon. I was called to go clear some blocked lines up at the Tabby Mountain Resort outside of Tabiona. Ryon agreed to go with me to help. As we arrived we found several families, some with cute girls our age, vacationing there from the city; all of them were gathered around the clean out line to watch us fix their sewage issue. Working with an audience on this kind of project, especially when the audience is angry and impatiently waiting for toilets and showers to work correctly again. Nobody wants to go on vacation and find raw sewage in their bathroom.
With everyone looking on I learned from the maintenance guy that every cabin at the resort was blocked up. Since their system all fed into a septic tank, I thought it wise to make sure the tank wasn't full with solid sewage going down the drain line. If that was the case, then they would need to have the septic tank pumped and the drain line cleaned or replaced. After wrestling off the concrete lid of the septic tank, I took my hat off and grabbed a flashlight and carefully peered into the edges of the tank looking for the drain line. I was hoping to find a a clear line which would confirm that I could likely fix the problem quickly.
Honestly to this day I don't remember the condition of the drain line or whether or not we fixed the problem all because of what happened while and after I looked into the tank. Let me set the scene one more time. Thirty to forty people are sitting on the little hillside watching us, waiting for the problem to be fixed. It was late summer and I hadn't cut my hair in about six weeks. I mention this because as I sat up to tell Ryon what I had seen, something wet and slimy slapped me in the forehead and over my eye, dripping down my cheek. Most of the people watching screamed, Ryon's eyes got huge. It took a few seconds but then I realized that my hair had been dipped into the solid sewage at the top of the septic tank as I twirled it around looking for the drain line. As I sat up the crap soaked swirly landed squarely on my face.
Within thirty seconds most of my audience had dispersed, running from the guy with poop dripping down his face. Ryon took longer than me to recover but eventually he handed me a rag to wipe the sewage off of my face.
Following the incident I'm sure we finished the job or referred it to someone to handle the septic tank. All I remember is Ryon laughing at me during the entire drive back to Duchesne.
Since those days, whenever I think my current job is kind of crappy, I just remind myself that it's not even close.
WARNING! THE POST BELOW CONTAINS SOME GRAPHIC AND STINKY DETAILS
At some point when I was in high school my father, who was a deputy sheriff at the time in our small town, decided to open a sewer cleaning business. He purchased a nice high pressure water snake , an old fashioned sewer snake, and a very cool small, red pickup truck...a red truck with a canopy. Admittedly I was excited when he first been discussing the idea of opening our own family business. It sounded adventurous and profitable.
My optimism quickly dissipated as I helped on our first job in Roosevelt. Of course, it should have been obvious that working with the transportation system of human biological waste wouldn't be the most desirable job in the world. Despite my sudden decline in interest, it wasn't long before I was trained and doing jobs on my own.
While the job wasn't the most pleasant, it did pay well and made for some great stories.
Gear and Rules
There are three key pieces of personal protective gear to being a safe and effective sewer line cleaning technician. First, you must have a proper pair of gloves. Heavy duty, rubber coated gloves are necessary. Sometimes you can get away with the coated cloth gloves that go to the wrist. On most jobs, however, I preferred the solid rubber gloves that went almost to my elbows. It's best not to allow the line from the snake touch your skin or clothes directly if you can help it. Second, you need eye protection. Because I wore glasses at the time, I just used those instead of wearing uncomfortable goggles. Unfortunately they served their purpose more than once and were spattered with waste. Finally, you need a good source of clean rags to clean the snakes off as you pulled them out.
Now for a couple of rules. Keep your mouth shut when pulling a snake out of a line. Under no circumstances do you want someone's waste landing in your mouth. It would leave a permanent psychological scar and possibly lingering health issues. Never turn on the pressure cleaner (jetter) until the head and line are safely in the sewage line. Never pull the head of the jetter out of the line with the pump running.
It's also important to realize that a sense of smell can be a serious curse.
Female Hygiene
During an early job I was sent to a neighbors house to clean out a line. Luckily I had access to clean out valve outside. It's always easier to do the jobs from outside a home as access is easier and you don't have to be as careful about making messes. After an initial check of the line it became clear that there was a solid block in the line that required more than the pressure cleaner. Using the mechanical snake with a drill attachment I fed the in line in. Once I knew the end of the snake had grabbed something I pulled it out to investigate the obstacle at hand. As the line came out I saw that what appeared to be large engorged cotton balls were wedged into the end of the snake. Reaching down I pulled the first one off and stared at it trying to figure out what I had. Pulling it apart to try to solve the mystery, I suddenly realized i was holding a used tampon in my hand.
Suddenly I found myself very angry with three people. First, I was angry with my dad for getting us into this business. Because of his entrepreneurial spirit his 17 year old son was sitting there holding a strange woman's used tampon. Second, I was angry with the woman. It seemed obvious that you shouldn't flush tampons down the toilet. Third, I was angry with myself for not being somewhere else at that moment. For instance, the county jail suddenly seemed a lot more inviting.
Unfortunately, the lady of the house was standing next to me, anxious to have her plumbing back in order. As I kneel there in the field with my morbid discovery she leaned over my shoulder and asked, "What is it?"
Apparently the swell factor was enough to distort the item beyond identification for her, or she didn't want to accept what it was. I looked up with her, my face red and shaking with anger, embarrassment and abject horror. Whispering between clenched teeth I forced myself to say, "A tampon. It's a lot of tampons. You can't flush tampons down the toilet." Suddenly realizing what kind of dialogue she was having with a young man, she muttered a little shriek and ran to her house.
In short order I was able to pull out the remainder of the used feminine hygiene products from the sewer line. Eventually, and sadly, I progressed to the point where pulling used tampons and other items from sewer lines was no big deal. The first time, however, was quite the ride.
A Skunk Would Be Better
One of my favorite experiences surprisingly didn't happen to me directly. My dad and I were on a job together trying to clear out a blockage on single wide trailer. Anytime you need to go into a crawl space it's always beneficial to have someone on the outside to turn the pressure cleaner on and off. Upon arrival at the job I set the machine up while my dad put on his overalls and crawled under the trailer.
We knew it would be messy because their was raw sewage backed up into the bathtub. Whatever clean out we opened, sewage was going to spill under the trailer. The best thing to do in these situations is find a way to release the dirty water into a spot away from where you will have to lay. Unfortunately this job started out badly. As my dad was trying to move one of the sewer lines the connection under the bathtub came loose and created a veritable shower of sewage. This of course put my dad into a poor demeanor.
It's important to understand that this jetter, or pressure cleaner, shoots water out at an extremely high pressure. The heads are designed to shoot one stream straight ahead and multiple streams to the side and rear. This design allows the high pressure water to cut through the blockage, propel the line forward, and clean the sides of the line.
Once he had the sewage pipe open he fed the end of the jetter in and pushed it around the first corner. With the line loaded he asked me to flip it on. I clicked it on and the pump started to hum, shooting water out at a crisp 4500 psi. Within less than a minute the lady in the house opened her back door and yelled at me, "I think your dad wants you to turn the machine off?"
"Why? I haven't heard him say anything."
She yells back, "Well, he's pounding like hell on my floor."
I turned it off as quickly as I could and yelled at my dad to see what he needed. I didn't get a reply so I yelled again. Soon I realized from the sound that he was crawling out from under the trailer. Confused I leaned over by the entrance to see what he was doing when suddenly I saw my dad's face burst into the light with his eyes squished shut as tightly as he could, his lips pressed closed, and sewer water dripping down his face. After a short second of shock and deep, deep amusement I grabbed a towel and pressed it into his hand so he could wipe his face.
With his face clean enough to venture opening his eyes, he looked at me accusingly and asked with more than a twinge of anger, "Why didn't you shut it off when I started pounding?"
"I didn't hear you pounding. I was standing next the pump and didn't hear you. What happened?"
In angry voice he explained how the head of the pressure line turned back on itself instead of going around the corner. As soon as I turned it on it sprayed sewer water directly into his face and continued to spray all over him while he waited for me to turn it off. With raw sewage dripping down his face he couldn't open his mouth to yell at me.
I'm not one to use foul language, but I have to say that was the only time I ever saw my dad totally #$#%faced.
Frosty and Cassanova
Cleaning frozen lines during the winter is a very uncomfortable proposition. I once spent six hours in sub zero temperature trying unsuccessfully to clear a frozen line on a farm in Neola. It took me hours to warm up, but it wasn't the worst. One night in Duchesne I was called out to clear a frozen line on a trailer. Knowing that I would be working under the trailer I called my friend Ryon to help run the pump on the jetter for me. The temperature outside was well below freezing, but it wasn't nearly as cold right under the trailer. In an attempt to break through the frozen line as quickly as possible we hooked the jetter up to the hot water heater. Usually this will help get through a large portion of the frozen line quickly.
With everything hooked up and the line in the pipe, Ryon flipped the switch. One drawback is that the jetter pushes all the water back into the work space while you work through the blockage. Within a few minutes I was laying in a pool of melted sewer water and warm water from the water heater. Despite the content of the water I unashamedly enjoyed the fact that at least it was warm...in the beginning.
Ryon checked in with me once or twice the first little while. I don't remember how long it took to finally free the block but by the time it broke through the water coming out of the jetter was cold. While the temperature under trailer was higher than it was outside, laying in the now cold water had lowered my body temperature and soaked my heavy overalls through completely. With the job wrapped up I yelled for Ryon to turn the pump off but received no response. Grabbing my gear I crawled outside and couldn't find him anywhere. I turned the pump off and reeled in the hose. By the time the hose was reeled in I was was bitterly cold and could feel my overalls starting to freeze on the outside.
In freezing temperatures, all the water in the pump and line of the jetter must be cleared immediately and replaced with anti-freeze. Failure to do so can crack the pump or split the lines. With frozen hands and body, I went through the process as quickly as I could wondering to where my help had wondered off. Just as I was loading the jetter back into the truck, shaking uncontrollably, Ryon and the client, a beautiful lady who had graduated from high school just a few years ahead of us, walked out of the trailer.
Ryon said, "Oh, are you finished. Sorry, she invited me in for a cup of hot cocoa so I could warm up."
I don't remember what I said but it wasn't very nice and he laughed at me in response. The drive home was extremely painful as was the shower I took. In the shower I had to leave the water on cold for twenty or so minutes before I could begin to turn the temperature up. As stood there shaking, thinking I would never be warm again, I kept picturing Ryon sitting across from the pretty lady enjoying a hot cup of cocoa.
A Slap in the Face
My final, and perhaps best story, once again involved Ryon. I was called to go clear some blocked lines up at the Tabby Mountain Resort outside of Tabiona. Ryon agreed to go with me to help. As we arrived we found several families, some with cute girls our age, vacationing there from the city; all of them were gathered around the clean out line to watch us fix their sewage issue. Working with an audience on this kind of project, especially when the audience is angry and impatiently waiting for toilets and showers to work correctly again. Nobody wants to go on vacation and find raw sewage in their bathroom.
With everyone looking on I learned from the maintenance guy that every cabin at the resort was blocked up. Since their system all fed into a septic tank, I thought it wise to make sure the tank wasn't full with solid sewage going down the drain line. If that was the case, then they would need to have the septic tank pumped and the drain line cleaned or replaced. After wrestling off the concrete lid of the septic tank, I took my hat off and grabbed a flashlight and carefully peered into the edges of the tank looking for the drain line. I was hoping to find a a clear line which would confirm that I could likely fix the problem quickly.
Honestly to this day I don't remember the condition of the drain line or whether or not we fixed the problem all because of what happened while and after I looked into the tank. Let me set the scene one more time. Thirty to forty people are sitting on the little hillside watching us, waiting for the problem to be fixed. It was late summer and I hadn't cut my hair in about six weeks. I mention this because as I sat up to tell Ryon what I had seen, something wet and slimy slapped me in the forehead and over my eye, dripping down my cheek. Most of the people watching screamed, Ryon's eyes got huge. It took a few seconds but then I realized that my hair had been dipped into the solid sewage at the top of the septic tank as I twirled it around looking for the drain line. As I sat up the crap soaked swirly landed squarely on my face.
Within thirty seconds most of my audience had dispersed, running from the guy with poop dripping down his face. Ryon took longer than me to recover but eventually he handed me a rag to wipe the sewage off of my face.
Following the incident I'm sure we finished the job or referred it to someone to handle the septic tank. All I remember is Ryon laughing at me during the entire drive back to Duchesne.
Since those days, whenever I think my current job is kind of crappy, I just remind myself that it's not even close.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
GVS 2013 Trek: Observing and Serving in the Kaibab
This summer the youth of the Green Valley Stake of
Henderson, Nevada, along with their mas, pas, and some other brave stake
leaders, pulled loaded handcarts for several miles in the Kaibab National
Forest in northern Arizona. For two and
a half days they walked through the dust and heat, grateful for the tall pines
providing shade along the roads and trails.
Each meal and drink of water was savored and appreciated. Sleep was well earned. Tired youth rallied at the end of the second
day to dance late into the night and eat a multitude of Dutch oven
cobblers. Cuts were bandaged, blisters
treated, and other ailments addressed.
Songs were sung and testimonies shared.
Youth and adults who walked the trail together left for home knowing
they had accomplished something significant.
Four years ago my wife and I went on the Colorado Springs
East Stake Youth Trek to Wyoming as a ma and pa. Experiencing the program as a “trekker” with
the youth was an amazing experience. We
were able to help them push and pull the handcart, eat what they ate, walk
through Martin’s Cove and pull the cart through the Sweetwater River. Of course our experience didn’t come close to
what those in the Willie and Martin Handcart Companies experienced, but it did
give us a glimpse. Each of us came away
with a deeper appreciation of what they did and a testimony of the Restored
Gospel.
This time I had a different role that provided me much
different perspective. Instead of trekking
with the youth, I was in a support role responsible for the movement of
equipment to include set up and take down for each campsite. Initially part of me was a little
disappointed that I wouldn’t be interacting with the youth directly, especially
since my oldest daughter was trekking for her first time. Despite the fact that I wouldn’t be at the
“center” of the action this time, I was excited to be there helping.
Beginning with the planning process and throughout the
actual trek, I experienced and observed events and people in such a way that my
testimony was strengthened and my understanding increased.
Staffing the Trek
As the high councilor assigned to work with the Young Women,
I was involved with the planning and organization process from the beginning. I had the privilege of extending calls to
several individuals to assist with the execution of the trek. Some of the calls were for positions that
demanded substantial amounts of time and work, such as: the head ma and pa who
were responsible for training all of the other mas and pas and assisting the
trek co-chairmen; the chairmen of the food committee with all of their
assistants; the videographer; and others.
In almost every case the calls were accepted not only with willingness but
also with a high degree of excitement.
On more than one occasion when issuing a call I spent a good deal of
time with the individual or individuals discussing their plans and ideas for
the trek in depth.
These wonderful brothers and sisters followed the Lord’s
counsel found in Doctrine & Covenants 58: 27:
“Verily I say, men should be anxiously engaged in a
good cause, and do many things of their own free will, and bring to pass much
righteousness.”
Preparing the Next
Generation
Last fall a young man and a young woman from each ward in
the stake were called to serve on the stake youth committee. Their responsibility was to plan and execute
the stake trek with guidance and training from the adult leadership. From the earliest meeting they shared their
ideas and desires for the trek. Each was
assigned to a committee with significant responsibility for the planning of
specific parts of the trek. As the
months came and went a core group of the youth attended and contributed,
learning to plan and follow up. Some of
the youth were already experienced leaders and they stepped up quickly to make
things happen. Others were content to
hang in the background a bit more, providing a quieter type of help. The opening morning of the trek I met most of
the members of the stake youth committee at the stake center at four in the
morning so we could get to the location ahead of everyone. I drove a van with thirteen of these
wonderful young people and then watched them throughout the trek as they led
and served others. The church will be in
good hands when their time comes, which is very soon.
Blessings: Seen
and Unseen
During my first trek experience I was aware that there was a
group of largely unseen people who were setting things up, putting things in
place, and generally making things happen.
While I was aware they were there and was grateful for what they had
done, I didn’t spend much time thinking about the degree of effort or time that
went into their work. Looking back at
many of the activities in which I participated as a youth, I don’t think I spent
enough time thinking about all the work that went into planning and executing
those activities. Now, I served on
Bishop Youth Councils and Stake Youth Committees and was aware of what went on
but I never considered that the adult leaders didn’t have to do what they were
doing nor did I consider that what they did might be difficult or much of a
sacrifice. A few times I may have even
been ungrateful and brazen enough to criticize their efforts for not meeting my
expectations.
As part of the support staff for this trek I helped to set
up and stage tents, dishwashing stations, tables, and food buckets. I helped to take down tents, dishwashing
stations, and tables. Once or twice I
even had the opportunity to give people a ride to and from different locations
on an ATV. The work wasn’t difficult but
the benefits to those who were trekking were real. Each task we completed was one less that they
had to do at the beginning or end of a long day. Our efforts allowed them to focus on their
designated activity and other important responsibilities like cooking dinner,
family meetings, and sleep.
On the end of the second day of the trek, with three miles
to go, I and another member of the support staff, decided to hike the last
three miles with the trekkers to give help where and when we could. As the companies went down one steep hill and
up another I jumped in and helped the families who were struggling. Coming down the long, steep hill I grabbed
onto a few handcarts and slowed them down.
On the way up the next steep hill I got behind one handcart and pushed a
little, then walked back down and pushed a little on another. Quickly I realized that I wasn’t doing
much. My thoughts went back to the
accounts of the handcart pioneers who felt unseen hands pushing their handcarts
up Rocky Ridge or other difficult places when they were worn and tired. I decided that I wanted to make a noticeable
difference for the rest of the handcarts I helped. It was at the end of a long, hot day for them
and they were tired. As the next one
came by I put my hands on the back and pushed hard, lightening their load and
hastening them up the hill. I returned down
the hill and did it again and then again and again. My contribution was small but it made me feel
good to help at a point in their day when it likely was appreciated.
God’s blessings are mysterious. Every day each of us is blessed through
miracles and by the quiet efforts and sacrifices, large and small, of
others. Some of these blessings occur on
such a regular basis that we fail to notice them, as we should. Often
we even fail to recognize that we are in need of the blessings we are receiving
because the needs are met so quietly and subtly. At times we are those blessing the lives of
others, knowingly and perhaps more frequently unknowingly.
Other blessings come in the very moment of obvious need and
after heartfelt prayer and pleading. The
blessings and answers to our prayers, in these cases, are obvious and
miraculous. These are the blessings that
we are quick to remember. These are
those about which we speak and testify.
Throughout the trek I saw blessings given and received in
both ways, quietly and in the moments of great need. Our God blesses us constantly and we can
bless others constantly for him through our actions. It’s easier I believe for us to be grateful
for and aware of those obvious blessings that we receive or give. The subtle, less obvious, blessings in my
opinion are those that can truly show the beauty of God’s work and the majesty
of his love. How often are we blessed
through a string of seemingly unconnected events and actions? How often does someone quietly serving bless
us? How often does someone living
righteously and not even knowing that they are blessing others bless us? How often do the actions of an indifferent,
perhaps non-righteous, person bless our lives?
I believe that most of our blessings from God are of the
subtle variety. I think the intent is to
require us to ponder the course of our lives while seeking out those
blessings. As we do this our love for
God will grow. I think God keeps his own
counsel relative the granting of the bulk of his blessings:
Matthew 6:3-4:
“But when thou doest alms, let not they left hand know
what thy right hand doeth: That thy alms may be in secret: and thy Father which
seeth in secret himself shall reward thee openly.”
Quiet and unrequested blessings, when noticed, let us know
that our Father in Heaven isn’t just aware of us, but that he knows us and
knows our needs. Such blessings are
evidence of his deep and abiding love and care for each one of us. Gratitude
for these blessings, quietly given, will lead us to love our God more fully and
to love our fellow man more fully. I
think we must also look for those opportunities to quietly bless the lives of
others and be aware of opportunities to do God’s work. As we do so our humility should increase, as
our sense of entitlement should decrease.
We learn to serve as our Savior, Jesus Christ, served.
The Blessing of
Observing
While I didn’t participate in the daily trek and associated
activities, I was able, with my compatriots, to position us to observe the
trekkers at significant times. My
daughter was in the first family in the first company. After finishing the set up of the first
campsite, we waited for the them to arrive.
It was rewarding to watch her come up the hill with her family, a smile
on her face and a sense of accomplishment in her words. I was there to watch her help pull the first
handcart up the women’s pull. And, I was
there to watch her pull the first handcart to the end point. I was able to watch the trekkers as they had
fun, suffered, and recovered. I was able
to watch them enjoy a break or a meal, to see them excited for peanut butter
and jelly sandwiches.
I had a few minutes in the evenings to walk around as they
prepared and ate their dinners. I
watched as they left their families for a few minutes to find friends and to
catch up on the events of the day. I
watched as some fell by the wayside to injury or sickness. I watched as the sick and injured were
attended to by others. In between my
small acts of service, I was able to watch others serve. I watched the youth and adults get frustrated
with the challenge in front of them and their weakness in facing it. I watched them push through to do what needed
to be done despite their frustration. I
listened as they sang, told stories, and shared testimonies. I watched and listened as their stake
president addressed them while they sat on the north rim of the Grand
Canyon. I watched as they felt the
spirit teach and strengthen them. I feel
as though I watched the spirit in action on a consistent basis.
Observing and quietly serving during this trek provided me
with a unique perspective and taught me new and old lessons about our Heavenly
Father, our Savior, and us. I think of
all those who made the work and sacrifices of the pioneers possible. Those that helped prepare them to make the
crossing, those that came to their rescue, and those who stood ready to welcome
them upon their arrival. I think of
those unseen hands who helped them along the way, providing help, strength, and
comfort. I picture a loving Heavenly
Father and Savior experiencing our joys and sorrows with us along our path as
they help us, step by step, becomes more like them.
While the main purpose of this trek was to provide the youth
with a faith promoting and testimony strengthening experience, it provided me
with a wonderful learning experience, one that I will remember.
- Jarad Van Wagoner
- Jarad Van Wagoner
___________________________________________________________________
Postscript: The Law of
Consecration in Action
The trek was an incredible event because of the willingness
of so many to sacrifice and serve. They
gave of their time, their talents, and in many cases their own money. The youth of this stake were blessed with:
-
A stake presidency that loves them and wants
them to succeed. The stake presidency
was involved in the planning process from the earliest stages. They helped to make important decisions
regarding scope, funding, purpose, and participation. Our stake president and one of his counselors
attended the trek and hiked with the youth.
-
Trek co-chairmen, a wonderful and vibrant
married couple in the stake, who threw themselves into the project heart and
soul. They spent hours researching the
best options for the trek. At the first
planning meeting they arrived with suggestions for multiple locations and
methods for running the trek. Prior to
the trek they traveled to the trek site, which is over three hours away,
multiple times. The delegated. They planned.
They organized. They followed up. They advised.
They served. They went to the
trek site the day before everyone else to set up and make sure everything was
ready to go. They were with the trekkers
all along the path. They were the last
to leave the trek site once it was over.
Their tireless efforts taught me the meaning of the word stewardship.
-
Head Ma and Pa.
This couple served in multiple roles:
as assistants to the trek chairmen, trainers for the thirty sets of mas
and pas, motivational speakers, cheerleaders, sign painters, etc. They looked after the welfare of the
trekkers, youth and adults alike. They
also went up a day early to help set up and were among the last to leave.
-
Mas and Pas.
These wonderful adults responded to the call to spend time in the wilderness
with these youth, to serve as mentors.
They attended meetings and trainings to prepare for the trek. They spent time getting to know the youth in
their families months before the trek began.
They participated in training hikes.
Throughout the trek they encouraged, showed, and taught the youth in
their families. Many of these wonderful
individuals suffered as much or more than many of the youth and yet they
continued through to the end.
-
Company Captains. Five wonderful priesthood holders, some of
them bishops, were responsible for the welfare of six handcart families. These men participated in much of the
pre-trek training and then trekked along with their families, helping and
encouraging wherever and whenever they could.
One of the bishops had a knee surgery a couple of months before the
trek. Despite his discomfort, he
participated in all three pre-trek preparation hikes. The first day he pushed himself through each
painful mile. I was leaving the first
campsite in an ATV as he was leading his company up the hill the last couple of
hundred yards. His face was set and
determined. I was proud to see him doing
something so difficult. Later I learned
that he was knocked off the side of a cattle guard as he entered camp by one of
the handcarts from his company that was running into the campsite. Despite his bangs and bruises he was back up
the next day ready to serve his company.
-
Stake Young Women and Young Men
Presidencies. These wonderful people
were in charge of equipment, logistics, transportation of people and equipment,
spiritual events, fun events, and so much more.
They helped directly with the trekkers.
They helped behind the scenes.
Their efforts provided many of the necessities such as port-a-potties,
drinking water, changing tents, dishwashing stations, lanterns, and
transportation for the tired and injured.
Along the trail they taught lessons through activities and spiritual
messages.
-
Cooks.
The cooks spent hours preparing and planning the meals for the
trek. They spent hours purchasing food
and stocking the refrigeration truck.
They spent hours preparing meal buckets for each family for each
meal. Then they spent additional time
and effort preparing meals for the stake leaders and support staff. They provided a wonderful dessert one night
of around 20 different cobblers to the trekkers. The cooks kept everyone fueled and ready to
move forward.
-
Music and Dance Committee. This wonderful family wrote an original song
or two for the trek. They taught the
youth how to do the Virginia Reel and other folk dances before we even left
home. Throughout the program they
provided music and multiple locations along the trail and they put on an
amazing music and dance festival the second evening. They truly shared their talents to make others
happy.
-
Medical Personnel. An individual was called to follow the
trekkers along the trail and provide medical assistance wherever
needed. He patched up cuts, blisters, and scrapes. He treated
dehydration, asthma attacks, joint
injuries, and whatever else came up.
Along the way he was helped by mas who are nurses and by stake leaders
who are doctors.
-
Photographers and videographer. Three individuals recorded the experience for
the youth in pictures and video to give them something to help remember the
experience. They were up early and
traveling all over the place to get the best shots. They interacted with the trekkers and support
staff. And, I have no idea how many
hours have gone into editing since the trek ended.
-
Other Volunteers. Several other adult leaders came to trek or
provided other service prior to trek, some to represent their bishopric, to
come with their spouse, or just to come participate and help. Service was rendered wherever it was needed.
These adult leaders are proof that the law of consecration
is alive and well among the Saints. So
many live it every day, giving of their time, resources, and talents to serve
the Lord by serving others. It wasn’t
easy or simple for many of these people to take time off of work, to take time
away from other important projects, or to spend much of their own money to make
this trek a success. They did it anyway,
despite the hardship and sacrifice.
Monday, June 24, 2013
Wasatch Back Ragnar: Shot Blocks and Miracles on Leg 27
This past weekend my sister Heather and I both ran the same legs of the Wasatch Back Ragnar. It was an amazing year to run as Ragnar celebrated the 10th year of the Wasatch Back. They did two relays over three days. It was my third time running the Wasatch Back and her first. We've both ran the SoCal, Vegas, and Zion Trail Ragnars as well. This year, my dad who first got us to run relays, marathons, and half marathons, is deployed to the Middle East and other locations with the Navy Reserve. To honor his service our family and some of our friends are running races in the yellow Navy shirt you see Heather wearing above.
Anyway, this year I filled in for my dad on the Provo Police Department Team, Twelve Brothers. Heather ran on Team Do or Do Not with Jeff Wells, a family friend who has ran several relays and other races with us. Heather's team started a couple of hours earlier than us so she sent me reports on each leg after she finished. After the first two legs she shared glowing reports on the beauty of the course. As our van prepared to leave for our final leg I received the following text from her regarding Leg 27, our last leg:
"Good luck on the last run. It's a freakin' $#%^$!"
I responded with: "Thanks for the encouragement. I was hoping you would lie to me."
She shared a few more of the details with me which were quite funny (and a bit discouraging) at the time. Later, after the Ragnar, she posted the following on Facebook. It's a great story for a number of reasons. I'll let you decide what those reasons are for yourself. Here's her story:
So I just wanted to share a little experience I had this last weekend while running the Ragnar. It may not mean much to some of you, but it meant something to me.
I had already run my first two legs which consisted of a 6.7 mile run and a 4.9 mile run and was about to run a 7.7 mile run with a LOT of hill. I had no van support on this run, which means that my team could not stop and assist me at any time for anything.
I woke up that morning at 3:45 am to prepare for my next run, only to be nauseated. No matter, I was still there when my team mate came in and handed me the bracelet.
However, at about 1/2 mile in I realized that I had forgotten my shot blocks to help sustain me through this run. There was NO way I was going to make it. I was going to let my team down by walking most of it, but most of all I was going to let myself down. If I had had the energy to cry I probably would have.
It was then that I said a very angry prayer to my Heavenly Father. How can I be SO stupid?! I had those stupid shot blocks ready to go and I left them?! How am I going to make this run?! Maybe I should lie on the side of the road and wait for someone else's van to pick me up and take me to my next destination??? I can't run while sick to my stomach and have no energy either! I QUIT!
And as soon as I had ended my prayer the Lord sent me an answer. Not any of the ones that I had suggested, but still he answered. And when I looked down at the ground in utter desperation I found a beautiful little red shot block that another runner must have dropped! It was perfect!
It was so perfect and of such great value to me at this point in time I decided to eat it. Yes, I ate it off the ground and was not ashamed! Even when another runner looked back at me questioningly for second. In fact it was the opposite of shame. It was relief and gratitude.
In fact it was so perfect and valuable and I was so grateful that I decided it best to ration it out through my run. I bit it in half and put the other half in my pocket for later. And when I reached the second water station I happily ate the other half.
This little shot block did not make my run much easier. I still struggled through the entire run, but it lifted my spirits enough to finish. And I was still some what angry during and for a little bit after the run. And when I told this story to my team mates in the van they all broke out in laughter with me.
And yes, I will run the Ragnar again next year!
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Ogden Marathon 2013: The Experience and Lessons Learned
Friday night before the Ogden Marathon I lay in my bed in Hunstville, UT listening to the rain pound the metal roof. None of my previous four marathons had been in the rain. This would be a new experience. Usually the sound of the rain would lull me to sleep but that night it was evasive, coming later than normal. Of course sleep has always been somewhat elusive before a marathon.
Rain continued to fall during our ride to the start line, letting up as we arrived at the large field with long line of port-a-potties. The start line of a marathon is a stunningly inspiring place. People of all makes and models show up and go through their own pre-race rituals. A nervous energy courses through the people. This year it was enhanced by the threat of rain. Garbage bags seemed to be the most popular type of outerwear.
Despite repeated requests to drop our bags at the truck, everyone held on as long as they could, not wanting to give up any of their warm weather gear until it was absolutely necessary. Just before the final call for the bags, with ten or so minutes to line up for the start, the rain started to fall again. Looking down toward Ogden Valley and Ogden Canyon, the rain showed no sign of letting up. All of us faced the prospect of 26.2 miles in the rain. When the final call to line up came, everyone that I could see moved toward the start line.
The marathon started and I started my shuffle toward the starting timer.
-----------------------------
There is a law of marathons--marathons demand extensive training. Everyone who knows anything about marathons knows that simple fact. You pick a training plan and you stick to it as much as your schedule and your body allows. Adjustments are allowed and injuries are part of the calculation. But you train the best you can before the marathon, or at least you try to train as much as you can. For the four previous marathons that I ran, I trained, for some more than others. But, I did train with regular runs with the miles in the double digits
Sadly my training for this most recent marathon was minimal. I ran at most 2 or three times a week. Only one run, at just under 13 miles was in the double digits. Fortunately I did have the Ragnar Trail Relay - Zion a few weeks earlier where I was able to run around 16 miles on trails during a 24 hour period. I could list my excuses for not training, and excuses are all I really have, but they would only embarrass me. So, I'll just roll with the fact that I was lazy and easily distracted this training season (and we had a new baby bringing us to a total of six children and I started a new job), and avoid the mention of any extenuating circumstances that could be construed as a lame excuse.
As the Ogden Marathon approached this year, the weeks seemed to tick off the calendar in quick order. Friends and family kept reminding me that the marathon was only "x" weeks away. Off and on, here and there, now and then, I tried to motivate myself to get out and run.
With the days passing and my training tragically insufficient, my supportive and caring wife became more concerned about the wisdom of me actually stepping on the course in hopes of making it to the finish line. For three or four weeks our conversations went something like this:
"What are you going to do?"
"Run the marathon."
"That's stupid."
Despite my low level of readiness I was committed to running this marathon for three main reasons:
1. I love the feel of completing a marathon. There is nothing like coming across the finish line. Watching others do it can bring tears to your eyes. It always brings tears to my eyes when I cross. The Ogden Marathon offers one of the most picturesque courses coming down into Ogden Valley, around Pineview Reservoir, and down Ogden Canyon. Also, I didn't want to break my streak of consecutive runnings.
2. I can run. My schedule and my physical body provided me the opportunity to step onto that course. Even with my limited training, I was reasonably sure I could finish it if I only started. Marathons are inspiring because of all the different types of people, in various states of physical conditioning and life, that step out onto the course. Likewise, there are so many people who are unable or unwilling to run. My father, who convinced me to run a marathon in the first place, has ran the Ogden with me the last three times. This year he wasn't able to run it because he was activated and deployed to Kuwait with the US Navy Reserve. Given his choice he would have been running with us rather than spending eight months in the desert back and forth between choice garden spots.
3. I wanted to teach myself the importance of training and preparing properly for distance runs.
So, I drove my car from Henderson, NV to Ogden, picking my friend Jeff up in Provo. (This was Jeff's third Ogden Marathon with me). I decided I would follow the Barney Stinson philosophy of running marathons. Barney's friend Marshall was training for a marathon, suffering through all the demands of long runs, when they had this exchange:
Barney: "Training for a marathon?!"
Marshall: "What?"
Barney: "You don't train for a marathon. You just run it!"
[...]
Barney: "Here's how you run a marathon. Step one, you start running. Step two...there is no step two."
(How I Met Your Mother, Season 2 Episode 15)
------------------
With the rain picking up in intensity I started running with a thin garbage bag covering my torso. My pace for the first nine miles was solid, what some with my sleek body type might even call quick. Now some of you non-marathoners may say to yourself, "You run nine miles at a quick pace after not having trained properly for a marathon?! That sounds like a long distance." Sadly, in the world of elite athletes (and other struggling runners), nine miles is just a drop in the bucket. After nine miles, all downhill, I still had over 17 more to run. Using wisdom garnered from marathons past I even held back those first nine miles, fighting the urge to go as fast as I could on the downhill. At about mile five my body temperature was up and I peeled the garbage off, surrendering to the wetness.
By the time I hit mile ten my outlook had gone from apprehensive to good to worried. The cold started to kick in as my pace slackened and the pain started to set in. Following a port-a-potty stop between mile ten and thirteen I was afraid of continuing on past the halfway point. The familiar thoughts and doubts hit me harder than they had during any previous marathon.
"You won't make it to the cut off in time."
"You're going to injure yourself."
"It's too cold. You'll get hypothermia if you keep expending energy." (Usually I worry about being too hot.)
"You're stupid you should have trained and now you'll never make it."
"You'll never recover from the hill after mile fourteen."
"Calling your wife from the hospital will ruin your day."
For two miles I worked through the doubts, entertaining ways to justify quitting at the halfway point. As I rounded the corner into the halfway point in Eden, I knew I had to keep going. I forced the reasons for continuing to the forefront of my mind:
"Your body is still moving. It's not broken."
"Dad finished it last year with a torn calf muscle and the same amount of training."
"Dad is deployed and would rather be feeling all my pains and aches. Calling to tell him you quit will be as bad as calling your wife from the hospital."
"I want to look down on the reservoir, see the steep canyon sides, and cross that finish line."
"You can do it. There is no good reason to stop."
With my resolve set I approached the halfway point, excited for an orange slice or two to keep me going. As I approached I heard over the speakers the following announcement, meant for the relay runners who had just finished up:
"Bus F107 is waiting to take you down the canyon. Go jump on the bus and get out of the rain. They have the heater on."
Unbelievable. My body tried to turn toward the bus but I made it to the volunteer with the oranges and kept going. As I rounded the corner toward the hill I fought the urge to weep. I fought through the depression until I hit mile fifteen and knew, if I could keep my pace up I would make it.
Using my Garmin I tracked my mile splits closely in an effort to make sure that my pace was sufficient to beat the cut off times. My pace had dropped off as I climbed to mile fifteen and I committed myself to keeping my pace up. Unfortunately at mile sixteen my Garmin, the screen filled with rain water, shorted out and reset. I couldn't get it to start again. Without the Garmin I took the next best option for keeping my pace where it needed to be--I ran as often as my legs allowed me.
Passing the aid station at mile seventeen I reached the dam ahead of the cut off time. I must not have looked too bad because none of the medical vans approached me to inquire as to my health. I hit the downhill and ran. For the next four or more miles down the canyon I managed to alternate between running and walking. This is the part where I always find my core group of fellow runners/walkers, those who continuously trade places. The rain, which hadn't bothered me much since early on, had soaked my shoes causing a sock to bunch up and give me a painful blister on my right foot.
Exiting the canyon I knew I would finish. I just didn't know if I would beat my goal time. After running 23 miles you would think that a simple 5K wouldn't be so intimidating. I continued to alternate between running and walking, eventually pulling away from almost all the members of my little core group. Finally I turned onto Grant Street, that last, seemingly interminable stretch of the Ogden Marathon. Each year I swear they move the entire city center a couple of blocks further back.
As I approached the final 200 or so yards the adrenaline kicked in, I could see people lining the finishing shoots. I could hear the announcer calling out names. At that point I couldn't have stopped my body from running as fast as it could. Off to one side I could hear my sisters Samantha and Heather yelling at me, cheering me on toward the finish. Again, like each previous year I was overcome with emotion as I came into the finish line, especially when I looked up to see that I had beat my expected time by about thirty minutes.
I knew, as I had each of the previous three years, that I will be running it again next year.
--------------------------
I drove back home to Henderson the day after the marathon enduring the pain of sore muscles and joints. On the way I reflected on lessons learned:
1. Training is important.
2. Experience goes a long way.
3. Training is important.
The course was beautiful this year. The rain and the clouds provided an amazing backdrop against the peaks, cliffs, and valleys on this course.
My wife confronted me shortly after I arrived home. I think she wanted me to admit defeat and promise not to do the full marathon again next year. Her dismay was evident as I expressed my commitment to run it again next year. Again I heard the word "stupid" mumbled under her breath. I think, however, that next year she may run the Ogden Half Marathon. What better first step to a full marathon?
--Jarad Van Wagoner
Rain continued to fall during our ride to the start line, letting up as we arrived at the large field with long line of port-a-potties. The start line of a marathon is a stunningly inspiring place. People of all makes and models show up and go through their own pre-race rituals. A nervous energy courses through the people. This year it was enhanced by the threat of rain. Garbage bags seemed to be the most popular type of outerwear.
Despite repeated requests to drop our bags at the truck, everyone held on as long as they could, not wanting to give up any of their warm weather gear until it was absolutely necessary. Just before the final call for the bags, with ten or so minutes to line up for the start, the rain started to fall again. Looking down toward Ogden Valley and Ogden Canyon, the rain showed no sign of letting up. All of us faced the prospect of 26.2 miles in the rain. When the final call to line up came, everyone that I could see moved toward the start line.
The marathon started and I started my shuffle toward the starting timer.
 |
| The Navy shirt is to honor my father for the races he misses this year while deployed. |
There is a law of marathons--marathons demand extensive training. Everyone who knows anything about marathons knows that simple fact. You pick a training plan and you stick to it as much as your schedule and your body allows. Adjustments are allowed and injuries are part of the calculation. But you train the best you can before the marathon, or at least you try to train as much as you can. For the four previous marathons that I ran, I trained, for some more than others. But, I did train with regular runs with the miles in the double digits
Sadly my training for this most recent marathon was minimal. I ran at most 2 or three times a week. Only one run, at just under 13 miles was in the double digits. Fortunately I did have the Ragnar Trail Relay - Zion a few weeks earlier where I was able to run around 16 miles on trails during a 24 hour period. I could list my excuses for not training, and excuses are all I really have, but they would only embarrass me. So, I'll just roll with the fact that I was lazy and easily distracted this training season (and we had a new baby bringing us to a total of six children and I started a new job), and avoid the mention of any extenuating circumstances that could be construed as a lame excuse.
As the Ogden Marathon approached this year, the weeks seemed to tick off the calendar in quick order. Friends and family kept reminding me that the marathon was only "x" weeks away. Off and on, here and there, now and then, I tried to motivate myself to get out and run.
With the days passing and my training tragically insufficient, my supportive and caring wife became more concerned about the wisdom of me actually stepping on the course in hopes of making it to the finish line. For three or four weeks our conversations went something like this:
"What are you going to do?"
"Run the marathon."
"That's stupid."
Despite my low level of readiness I was committed to running this marathon for three main reasons:
1. I love the feel of completing a marathon. There is nothing like coming across the finish line. Watching others do it can bring tears to your eyes. It always brings tears to my eyes when I cross. The Ogden Marathon offers one of the most picturesque courses coming down into Ogden Valley, around Pineview Reservoir, and down Ogden Canyon. Also, I didn't want to break my streak of consecutive runnings.
2. I can run. My schedule and my physical body provided me the opportunity to step onto that course. Even with my limited training, I was reasonably sure I could finish it if I only started. Marathons are inspiring because of all the different types of people, in various states of physical conditioning and life, that step out onto the course. Likewise, there are so many people who are unable or unwilling to run. My father, who convinced me to run a marathon in the first place, has ran the Ogden with me the last three times. This year he wasn't able to run it because he was activated and deployed to Kuwait with the US Navy Reserve. Given his choice he would have been running with us rather than spending eight months in the desert back and forth between choice garden spots.
3. I wanted to teach myself the importance of training and preparing properly for distance runs.
So, I drove my car from Henderson, NV to Ogden, picking my friend Jeff up in Provo. (This was Jeff's third Ogden Marathon with me). I decided I would follow the Barney Stinson philosophy of running marathons. Barney's friend Marshall was training for a marathon, suffering through all the demands of long runs, when they had this exchange:
Barney: "Training for a marathon?!"
Marshall: "What?"
Barney: "You don't train for a marathon. You just run it!"
[...]
Barney: "Here's how you run a marathon. Step one, you start running. Step two...there is no step two."
(How I Met Your Mother, Season 2 Episode 15)
------------------
With the rain picking up in intensity I started running with a thin garbage bag covering my torso. My pace for the first nine miles was solid, what some with my sleek body type might even call quick. Now some of you non-marathoners may say to yourself, "You run nine miles at a quick pace after not having trained properly for a marathon?! That sounds like a long distance." Sadly, in the world of elite athletes (and other struggling runners), nine miles is just a drop in the bucket. After nine miles, all downhill, I still had over 17 more to run. Using wisdom garnered from marathons past I even held back those first nine miles, fighting the urge to go as fast as I could on the downhill. At about mile five my body temperature was up and I peeled the garbage off, surrendering to the wetness.
By the time I hit mile ten my outlook had gone from apprehensive to good to worried. The cold started to kick in as my pace slackened and the pain started to set in. Following a port-a-potty stop between mile ten and thirteen I was afraid of continuing on past the halfway point. The familiar thoughts and doubts hit me harder than they had during any previous marathon.
"You won't make it to the cut off in time."
"You're going to injure yourself."
"It's too cold. You'll get hypothermia if you keep expending energy." (Usually I worry about being too hot.)
"You're stupid you should have trained and now you'll never make it."
"You'll never recover from the hill after mile fourteen."
"Calling your wife from the hospital will ruin your day."
For two miles I worked through the doubts, entertaining ways to justify quitting at the halfway point. As I rounded the corner into the halfway point in Eden, I knew I had to keep going. I forced the reasons for continuing to the forefront of my mind:
"Your body is still moving. It's not broken."
"Dad finished it last year with a torn calf muscle and the same amount of training."
"Dad is deployed and would rather be feeling all my pains and aches. Calling to tell him you quit will be as bad as calling your wife from the hospital."
"I want to look down on the reservoir, see the steep canyon sides, and cross that finish line."
"You can do it. There is no good reason to stop."
With my resolve set I approached the halfway point, excited for an orange slice or two to keep me going. As I approached I heard over the speakers the following announcement, meant for the relay runners who had just finished up:
"Bus F107 is waiting to take you down the canyon. Go jump on the bus and get out of the rain. They have the heater on."
Unbelievable. My body tried to turn toward the bus but I made it to the volunteer with the oranges and kept going. As I rounded the corner toward the hill I fought the urge to weep. I fought through the depression until I hit mile fifteen and knew, if I could keep my pace up I would make it.
Using my Garmin I tracked my mile splits closely in an effort to make sure that my pace was sufficient to beat the cut off times. My pace had dropped off as I climbed to mile fifteen and I committed myself to keeping my pace up. Unfortunately at mile sixteen my Garmin, the screen filled with rain water, shorted out and reset. I couldn't get it to start again. Without the Garmin I took the next best option for keeping my pace where it needed to be--I ran as often as my legs allowed me.
Passing the aid station at mile seventeen I reached the dam ahead of the cut off time. I must not have looked too bad because none of the medical vans approached me to inquire as to my health. I hit the downhill and ran. For the next four or more miles down the canyon I managed to alternate between running and walking. This is the part where I always find my core group of fellow runners/walkers, those who continuously trade places. The rain, which hadn't bothered me much since early on, had soaked my shoes causing a sock to bunch up and give me a painful blister on my right foot.
Exiting the canyon I knew I would finish. I just didn't know if I would beat my goal time. After running 23 miles you would think that a simple 5K wouldn't be so intimidating. I continued to alternate between running and walking, eventually pulling away from almost all the members of my little core group. Finally I turned onto Grant Street, that last, seemingly interminable stretch of the Ogden Marathon. Each year I swear they move the entire city center a couple of blocks further back.
As I approached the final 200 or so yards the adrenaline kicked in, I could see people lining the finishing shoots. I could hear the announcer calling out names. At that point I couldn't have stopped my body from running as fast as it could. Off to one side I could hear my sisters Samantha and Heather yelling at me, cheering me on toward the finish. Again, like each previous year I was overcome with emotion as I came into the finish line, especially when I looked up to see that I had beat my expected time by about thirty minutes.
I knew, as I had each of the previous three years, that I will be running it again next year.
 |
| Ogden Marathon 2013 Bib and Medal |
--------------------------
I drove back home to Henderson the day after the marathon enduring the pain of sore muscles and joints. On the way I reflected on lessons learned:
1. Training is important.
2. Experience goes a long way.
3. Training is important.
The course was beautiful this year. The rain and the clouds provided an amazing backdrop against the peaks, cliffs, and valleys on this course.
My wife confronted me shortly after I arrived home. I think she wanted me to admit defeat and promise not to do the full marathon again next year. Her dismay was evident as I expressed my commitment to run it again next year. Again I heard the word "stupid" mumbled under her breath. I think, however, that next year she may run the Ogden Half Marathon. What better first step to a full marathon?
--Jarad Van Wagoner
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