Team 28

The triathlon was salty-sweet. My goal was to finish the mile swim in 30 minutes or under. My previous attempts were around 32. Jessie, our cyclist, wanted to average 17 mph on the bike, and Nick, our runner, wanted to keep a five-minute-mile pace. Everyone on Team 28 exceeded their goals: 28 minutes* in the water, 18.8 mph on the bike, 4:55-minute-mile pace. And when Nick sprinted those last fifty yards passing three other runners solidifying our first place dreams, all was right with the world. In the warm august afternoon, we gloried in free energy drink samples and our first place finish for another two hours until all the racers had come in. Timing ourselves, we figured all-in-all, we finished in about two hours and 20 minutes. As the award ceremony began, we readied ourselves to take the first-place position on the podium. I stood up half-way as they read the team name then slowly lowered myself back down. Still sitting on the grass with my hands on the ground ready to get up, they read two more unfamiliar team names. People clapped. With smiles and raised fists, strangers took the podium and accepted the award. Our team looked around in disbelief--shocked into open-mouthed statues. Racers dispersed and more unfamiliar names trailed off the loud speaker. "Something's not right, I passed all of those guys."
"Yeah, yeah Nick, I know. I saw. Let's talk to the judges."
"Sorry, I don't have a time for your team"
"Wait what? What do you mean?"
"Sometimes the computer chip that keeps track of the time malfunctions and doesn't record your time. Sorry guys."
We figured out our actual time from the guys that Nick passed on his final 50 yard sprint, and it matched right on with the time that we had kept ourselves. We are the 1st place relay team by a full ten minutes and no one knows it but us. I stared at the empty first-place podium simultaneously knowing that I earned a moment to stand and be recognized, but also that that moment had past and I no longer belonged there. I felt cheated. Not only cheated out of victory, but out of the feelings of satisfaction and accomplishment that comes with honest victory. I kept thinking about the classic parent speech I heard growing up, "You know in your heart that did your best, and no one can take that away from you. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks." I've heard that speech my whole life, having never won first place--at anything. Second place is where I grew up. Sometimes I would visit third, and I've even had few extended vacations in honorable mention. Now I legitimately had the right to enter first place, but I felt unwelcome, unsafe. Our new home had been broken into; our things stolen and claimed by someone else, all before we could even spend the night. Hesitatingly back to the car with my participation medal, I heard my heart argue with my mind, "we did our best and won, and it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks."

I'm going to do another triathlon. This time, I'm going solo. I'll let you know how I do, but somehow the idea of winning lost it's appeal.

Team 28 with Cherise (in red)


The next day after all the times and computer problems the race judges posted the actual results:

*my swim time below of 29:36 includes a 200 yard run from the lake to transition area

***************** OLYMPIC RELAY RESULTS

Place	Bib	Team	Swim	T1	Bike	T2	Run	Official
1	2142	Team 28	29:36	0:37	1:20:07	0:20	30:42	2:21:19.0
2	2143	Spencer Fam	36:16	0:50	1:06:04	0:26	47:34	2:31:07.3
3	2139	Newmanson	35:47	0:19	1:10:25	0:30	46:20	2:33:18.0
4	2146	Davies and Odell	39:04	0:44	1:21:05	0:21	36:48	2:38:01.0
5	2137	2137	1:21:30	3:13	48:29	1:32	27:43	2:42:24.0
6	2135	Austin	40:02	0:43	1:03:24	0:34	58:13	2:42:53.0
7	2134	Coon Family Racin	43:57	0:55	1:14:14	1:28	42:42	2:43:14.0
8	2105	team allen	35:20		2:27:36	1:06	56:05	2:49:28.2
9	2138	2138	1:34:39	1:46	43:48	1:11	37:16	2:58:39.0

Family Home Evening. Impromptu food-drive, which means that no one in the neighborhood knows we are coming. Not a problem, I'm with local Sean Johnson (pulls up in a black Cadillac 6'4'' dressed all in black, hat turned backwards) and Emily Fairchild. Sean is automatically the leader with size and local savvy he points out which streets and which houses we should hit, and dear, dear miss Fairchild is the talent. She stands elegantly outside the screen door and as they open softly explains the who, what, and why adding a beautiful but slightly shy smile at the end making rejection near impossible. My job? I politely say "thank you."
"I don't think their home."
"Knock one more time, then we'll go."
Emily knocks and a hard skinny man in a dirty white shirt, and faded-thin jeans turns the corner. His shaggy white beard and leathered face highlight the concern in his eyes. He walks determined in our direction, past us not up to us. He's in the middle of a job and wants to simultaneously find out who we are, dismiss us, and continue on his work undisturbed. He starts the questioning about 20 feet away. Just as Emily finishes the explanation and generously gives her smile, he walks in the house and without turning around trails off, "I'll need to talk to my wife . . . ." The smell of smoke reminds me of my grandfather.
We all exchange glances and shrugs, then awkwardly wait in silence.
Starting the conversation down the hall out of sight, he makes his way towards us, "I just don't have time, you see the wife knows this kind of stuff and it's all downstairs and I just don't have time, so I'm sorry, but the wife is really the one and I don't know but we're both just busy right now."
My turn, "That's ok, thanks anyway we appre--"
"Yeah, sorry we're just real busy right now and it's all downstairs so--is this the only day you're doing it? Could you come back?"
In my mind I hear how stupid my immediate reaction is: Uh, what? Come back? This really was just a one time thing and I wasn't planning on driving back up here. We are just making a mad grab for all we can in one shot. It's not worth it to come back. Unless it's right now we don't want your charity.
What I actually said was, "I could come back another day, when did you have in mind?" Ok, looks like I need to find out where the Food Bank actually is and how I can make donations instead of just handing it off to the FHE coordinators.
"Tomorrow, yeah, Ok, see that pickup truck right there?"
"The Chevy?"
"Yeah, if that's in the drive, then I'm home, come by tomorrow around six."
"Great, we'll (I'll) see you tomorrow."
"Yeah, 'cause I'm real busy, and it's all downstairs."
"Thanks again."
Sport's Night is at 7:30 in the same area and it's now 10 minutes to six. Not wanting to drive up to his house, drive home, and then drive back to the area I debate with myself whether I should go at six like we agreed or whether it would be alright to show up around seven an hour after our agreement. Disgusted with my integrity I walk out the door at 5:58. It's a ten minute drive.
"Oh, you were the one here yesterday right? Yeah, I'm sorry I just forgot you were coming by and we, the wife you know, we're not ready, that's my fault, I'm sorry. I would really like to give, I just forgot about it, sorry."
"No problem, thanks anyway." I'm too good at my job, and my integrity is still tenuous. We both look at each other and our eyes have a different conversation:
"Look kid, I want to be a nice guy, I've just got other things going on right now let's just leave be, Ok?"
"You know what, don't worry about it, because I'm also a nice guy or at least I try to be, but I really don't want to make another trip out to your place, so yeah, lets just forget about it."
"Thanks for understanding kid."
The blank spot in the conversation where I should have offered to come back another time when it was convenient for him, where we should have made other arrangements was blatant and awkward.
I'm not all bad. I went to FHE with a big backpack and two cans of food from my meager pantry, "how can I ask others to give if I'm not willing to myself. King Benjamin. Giving. That's our lesson for tonight's FHE." And thus we have the real lessons--superficial concern and giving when it's convenient instead of when it's needed. I don't clearly see the poor and hungry (not many of us do), not past one day, and certainly not a twenty minute round trip from my house to his. No, I won't feed a starving child for that price. It's too much.
"Thanks anyway" I waved cheerfully halfway to my car with my sunglasses on congratulating myself that I kept my end of the deal and came "around six."

So how do I clear my conscience? A few extra cans? Volunteer hours at a local soup kitchen? Lesson learned and will do better next time?

What do you think?

Community Action Services and Food Bank:
Food bank serving Utah, Wasatch and Summit counties
Website: www.CommunityActionUC.org
815 S. Freedom Blvd. Suite 100
Provo, UT 84601

American Fork Food Pantry
54 East Main Street

Planning out my day

I looked at the face, as it looked at me. It's magic numbers mutate and ask what I should see. 9 p.m. changes from a phone to the image of an older brother. 4:30 a.m. starts out black, blurry, and fades to flourescent water. 2 p.m. is the post office, a stupid song coming from nowhere that can't be turned off in slow, reluctant traffic. However, the double one's are jokers, and bring a wild-card war with them. Imaged in front of the bathroom mirror with contact solution in hand, I notice something behind me. Ah, I see and beckon the battle as midnight showings creep, and hot tub friends threaten. Spinning around I hack and slash--thrust my toothbrush in for the kill but the movie-ticket-sheild is quick! The room fills with cholrinated steam and suffocates my vision. Kidnapped. They won tonight and I won't escape to see my mirrored face swishing mouthwash until the watch hides 2. But this time, it shows a brighter smile.