Get off of my car!

A few days ago I was asked to shoot some engagement pictures by a “friend of a friend.” Despite the impossibility of finding an original location to shoot in Provo, we attempted to do something a bit unique. Here are a few of the photos- I don’t want to give away the secret locations!

It was a lot of fun working with Sarah and Jory. I could tell how they felt about each other and hope that the pictures are able to portray just a bit of that. I wish them the best.

 

 

Trading Up

After listing my first motorcycle on KSL for a price that was higher than I thought the bike would ever sell for (I hope the buyer doesn’t read this), someone surprised me with a phone call a few days ago. The buyer “Paul” was looking for the exact bike I had for sale and surprised me by offering me 100% of what it was listing for.

I did love that bike and it hurt to see her go… but I think I’ll get over it. Fortunately, I was able to go out and pick up a suitable replacement. I do realize that I might be a bit on the rebound, but after a beautiful weekend trip up into the canyon; I learned that a man could be happy with more than just one particular bike.

 

And yes, I was wearing my helmet

Lessons from our past-

As the story goes, in 490 B.C., Philippides, the first marathon runner, ran 26 miles from the Greek city of Marathon to Athens to announce the victory of the Athenian army over Persian forces. He delivered the news, keeled over and died. It was summer, so perhaps heat stroke felled him. Or maybe the hero had a heart attack. But it's also possible that the legendary runner drank himself to death - with water.

 According to the Greek historian Herodotus, Philippides had run from Marathon to Sparta the previous day. If so, he would have been tired and his progress to Athens slow - slow enough to allow him time to drink more water than a human body can take in without fatally diluting sodium levels in the blood. Too little sodium and too much water and the cells of the brain can swell enough to press against the skull and interfere with the brain stem's ability to regulate breathing.

 The condition, called hyponatremia, has killed more long-distance runners, hikers and others who engage in sustained physical exercise than physicians, coaches or athletes realized.

 Today I was notified of my name being selected to run in the St. George Marathon this next October. I hope I don’t die. 

“The future is no place for your better days”

 

 

Random “to do” list for this summer:

 2 half marathons and the St. George full Marathon.

 Dave Matthews Band @ Usana Amphitheater. (First time I’ll see them play with their new sax player Jeff Coffin).

 Motorcycle trip down to San Diego, then up the Pacific Coast Highway. 

I went to Cornell, you ever heard of it?

Quick update on my life…

 

I would almost certainly update my blog more frequently if I felt like people were actually reading it... but I don’t understand why on earth someone would read it because I never update it.

Anyway, I was admitted into a few grad schools for next fall and figured I’d let the blogging community know about it. I was accepted to Master’s programs at UCLA, Michigan, Cornell, and even here at BYU. Sadly, Portland State, my fallback school that I would have considered (maybe) had I been rejected from everywhere else was the only school that denied me. I was planning on applying to Utah with a similar purpose, but didn’t end up needing to after finding out I had been accepted to other schools.

When it came down to making a decision, I never really considered Michigan. After a visit to UCLA, it was clear that their program just wasn’t what I was looking for. Cornell offered a nice scholarship but i'd still end up paying about 15,000 a semester. Following some deliberation, I decided to stay here at BYU and begin the MPA program in the Marriott School.  Although I hesitated to stay here “in the harbor”, I couldn’t help feeling that this particular program was for me.

I’m confident that I would have done fine in any of the previously mentioned programs, and that realization helped me clearly see that it’s not about the program the person is in… it’s about the person in the program (cliché I know!) Although I may be giving up my opportunity of marrying into old money at Cornell, I still haven’t doubted for a second that I made the right decision. 

Each machine has its own, unique, personality which probably could be defined as the intuitive sum total of everything you know and feel about it. This personality constantly changes, usually for the worse, but sometimes surprisingly for the better, and it is this personality that is the real object of motorcycle maintenance.
-Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

I finally did it. After 3 consecutive years of shopping and speculating, only to repeatedly come out empty handed due to rationalization, I finally bought my first motorcycle. Whether it was my more favorable financial situation, a quarter-life crisis, the reading of the above mentioned book, or my prediction of rising gas prices that finally put me over the edge, I will never know.
After researching the subject thoroughly, the bike I finally settled on was a 2003 Honda 750cc American Classic Edition. Although I would have been perfectly happy with a Boulevard M50, or a Vulcan 900, I based my decision primarily on where I could find the best deal. On Craig’s List, there was one listed for an abnormally low price. I investigated this machine and found out that the seller (a middle aged man), had a terminal lung disease and had stopped breathing more than once on this bike. This man had not ridden the bike in a long time so it had accumulated a lot of dust over the winter. He informed me that several people had gone over to check it out, but told me that they were the “irresponsible type”and that he would much rather see the bike go to someone like me... haha, right.
After cleaning it up and a few dangerous hours of riding, I am very pleased with it. However, I must say that I am just as excited to get to work on it (reupholstering, new exhaust, basic tuning, etc), giving it it’s own personality.

The Weaver

My life is but a weaving, between my God and me, 
I do not choose the colors, He worketh steadily. 
Ofttimes he weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride 
Forget He sees the upper, and I the underside. 
Not till the loom is silent, and the shuttles cease to fly, 
Will God unroll the canvas, and explain the reasons why 
The dark threads are as needful in the skillful weaver's hand 
As threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned. 

He knows, He loves, He cares, 
Nothing this truth can dim. 
He gives His very best to those 
Who leave the choice with Him.

-Anonymous