Wavin' Flag

Every so often I come across something that penetrates its way through my extremely manly exterior and tugs at my little heart strings. This video did that... It's a good song for a good cause. Check it out.

A rendition of this song has also been selected as the 2010 World Cup Anthem. Can't wait for that!

Like Hell On Lightning

Its weird how your brain works in the wee early hours of the morning while you're still in bed trying to get the motivation to get up. 5:00am. Time to get up. After a small wresting match with the down comforter (which never felt so comforting), I coaxed myself out from under its loving grasp. As soon as my feet hit the floor the adrenaline hit. Race day! And not just any race day, IMCCC Championships (Inter-Mountain Collegiate Cycling Conference).
The IMCCC Championship is a 3 stage race over 2 days. Criterium on Friday followed by a TTT (Team Time Trial) and Road Race on Saturday.
As I ran out the door I crammed a PB n' J down my throat. Hardly appetizing this early in the morn, but I had to get something in my system. That sandwich never really settled well.
Arriving at the start/finish line, it was like an ant hill. A whole mess of teams scrambling to get everything ready to go for the TTT. Luckily we had Joe (a team member who opted out of racing to be the race EMT, thus allowing everyone to race. A gentleman and a scholar- thanks). All we had to do was worry about our warm-up, Joe took care of the rest. 
Since this post will be mainly about the TTT, allow me to explain the basics of our little race. A TTT is a sprint race over a relatively short distance, in our case a 14 mile course (7 out and 7 back). We had 4 man teams, but the time stopped when the back wheel of the third man came across the finish. The forth mans purpose (me) was to "burn out" with about 2 miles left, sling-shoting the remaining three ahead with maximum speed, like hell on lightning.
The four of us rolled up to the start line. The feeling right before a race is indescribable. I tried just to focus on my breathing while a million thoughts rushed through my head head. Joe stood next to us giving some last minute coaching, reminding us all of our duties at each mile marker. "Go hard, don't look back and give 'em hell!" Seems simple enough. 
"Riders, 10 seconds", the official announced. Where a racers mind goes in those never ending seconds is beyond me, but I was there. There was complete silence as I starred at the open road ahead of us. It was about to be the longest 14 miles of my life. "5... 4... 3... 2... 1... GO!" The cheers of the crowds rushed back into my head. And so it began.
The cheers quickly faded as we made our way out of the park and onto the country roads. Nothing but the sound of wind rushing by us as we averaged almost 30mph. I still felt good at mile 7, the turn around point. "Don't fall over", was the advice shouted as we entered the hair pin turn to start back for the finish line. This was our only opportunity to get a look at the position of our competition. Teams whizzed by us. We gave shout outs to the other two UVU teams as we passed ways.
Then came my burn out point. 3 miles left, time to bring it home. I got to the front, put my head down, tucked my arms in and pushed myself as hard as I could go. I pedaled until it felt like my veins pumped battery acid and my heart was going to explode out of my chest... then I pedaled some more. Then came the black-out point, when after a scream of pain, I knew I was done. I dropped of the group as they sprinted the last 2 miles to the finish.
The sound of cheers came back as I coasted through the finish. Incoherent to most of the congratulatory words, I rolled over to the team and joined them in attempts to stand on shaking legs. Some were dry heaving. For the most part everyone was smiling, because we knew how fast we had just rode.
As the other teams sprinted to the finish, the results rolled in. We had taken 1st place in our category. Gold medal. Somehow, that made all the pain worth it.
Later that day we raced in a road race, where UVU had someone in the top 3 finishers of every category.

Early morning preparations

Luke, Matt, Danny and myself on the start line, waiting for the countdown while Joe gives some last words of advice

High fives for the other UVU Team as they dry-heave after finishing

3 of the 4 TTT Gold medalists (USU grabbed second)

Preparing for the afternoon road race

Waiting for our turn to start

Listening as the race official talks about something

And we're off 

The first of two 25 mile laps around West Mountain

Me and a converted UVU fan from Weber State

Part of the group after an amazing race weekend

BYU Graduate.... Wait, what?

My "list of shananigans" is far too long and distinguished to recall each act individually. But, this week marks the One Year Anniversary of one of my better spoofs. Allow me to paint a picture for you.
Its April 24, 2009. The Johnson brothers Shane and Daniel are graduating from BYU, in the Management and Exercise Science department, respectively. Daniel's graduation ceremony is first. Being the good friend that I am, I decided to clear my terribly busy schedule packed with tennis, swimming and of course sleeping. 
To give a short summary of what a graduation ceremony is like- it was like pulling teeth for 3 hours (and I hate the dentist). The very thought of having to sit through yet another one made me want to dry heave. 

So, I thought to myself, "Self, how would YOU transform the next 5 hours of boredom into a memorable experience?" What can only be described as a stroke of genius is what followed...

Yours truly, as a 2009 BYU Business Management Graduate

"But wait, you don't go to BYU. You're not a student at "de Lordz University" (said in a Nacho Libre accent). No, I am not. I am however a extremely cunning, devilishly witty and remarkably persuasive person. Lets rewind the clock about one hour...

Realizing the rare opportunity before me, I decided to capitalize on a once in a lifetime event. I borrowed Daniel's cap and gown, and ran down with Shane to sit with the graduates. We were late (fashionably) and the show was already underway with important BYU people speaking. As we were running around an usher grabbed us. "Are you boys graduating?" (This was it. The moment of no return. I'm either all in or taking the easy way out and sitting through another few hours of horrific boredom...) "Yes Sir, both of us!" (I couldn't help but smile with confidence). "Well, we better get you boys checked in." (Wait, what?)

The old man hastily led us to a booth where two women sat with cards that had the approved graduates names on them. "Name please..." As Shane rattled his name off, I stood sweating bullets, fumbling words in my head. She turned to me, waiting for me to reply. I gave her my name knowing she wouldn't find it in the cards. Crap, I'm busted for sure. She shook her head as she scanned the cards a second time. "I'm not finding your name here." Ding! Light bulb.

I told a little fib. A long, yet very believable little fib. I am not able to reveal my crafty methods of flattery and guile, but by the end of our conversation, we were laughing together as she handed me a card with my name hand written on it, congratulated the two of us and wished us well in our endeavors after graduation. "Sorry for the confusion," she said. Such a sweet lady.

The other graduates were already lining up to walk across the stage. The usher led us to the hallway where they were lined up and told us to hop in line alphabetically. Of course, I didn't want to go it alone. It just wouldn't be as funny. I borrowed a pencil to erase and change my last name to something with a "J" (Shane's last name is Johnson). Changes were as follows... 

Peterson-Jeterson-Jeferson-Jefferson. Eric Jefferson. Perfect.

Being the rather social person that I am, my only problem was seeing people that knew me and knew that I didn't go to BYU. I spotted a few friends and just kind-of tilted my cap to cover my face until I could slip past them. 

Then the moment came. The line led out into the middle of the Marriott Center filled with spectators. Here I was about to pull off the shananigan of a lifetime. I was so excited and proud of myself for having pulled it off. I wore a smile from ear to ear, like the Grinch right before he stole Christmas.

"Eric Jefferson" was announced and I walked proudly up the ramp and onto the stage. There stood the Dean of the Marriott Business School with his hand outstretched. "Congratulations son", he said as I shook his hand. "Thank you sir, I still can't believe I did it." He obviously thought I was talking about all the hard work required to graduate college. 

We turned for a picture (the one posted above) and I walked off stage, chest held high. I was proud of myself.

Turns out, a lot of family friends saw my face on the projector screen and called my parents back home to say how cool it was to see me graduate. That night, a phone call from my dad went something like this...

Dad- "I heard you graduated today!" 

Me- "Well, kind-of, yeah."

Dad- "Why the hell didn't you tell us?!? We would've come down to watch you! Instead we have to hear about it from everyone in the ward?" (Word travels ridiculously fast in Idaho Falls).

Thats right, my parents didn't think twice about the fact that I had "graduated" from BYU. They were just pissed I didn't invite them to the ceremony. I had to remind them that I was not a BYU student and at the time I still had two more years of school before I officially graduated. They eventually had a good laugh about it.

So folks, if you ever have a crazy idea, don't hesitate. Just do it. Whether it works or not, at least you'll have some pretty funny memories to talk about.

Signing My Life Away

Its that time of year when all the big races in the fall open up for registration. Why they make you sign up months in advance is beyond me. Probably so you'll have anxiety attacks about it all summer, which combined with nervous training can result in some great conditioning- or an emotional break down the week before "D-Day". So, yesterday I signed up for the brutal race that caps off my cycling season, the LOTOJA.

LOTOJA- short for LOgan TO JAckson, is a USA Cycling sanctioned road cycling race held annually in September. The race is the longest single-day road cycling race in North America, if not the world. It is also the longest one-day race sanctioned by USA Cycling or the United States Cycling Federation.
Total distance: 206 miles (or 332 km)
Total elevation gain: nearly 10,000 ft (3,000 m)
*Courtesy of wikipedia- I was way too lazy to write up all the stats on my own.
It's the most physically draining and most mentally challenging thing I have ever done. Some of my most intense moments of pain are from this race. Each year I have vowed never to EVER race it again... but look who just keeps crawling back for more... Yeah, stupid.


1st year (2007)- I didn't even own a bike at the time I had signed up for the race. Two friends of mine had convinced me that my quest for manhood would somehow be thwarted if I omitted myself from racing (which didn't make sense, but I totally fell for it). I trained with the two of them, both seasoned cyclists, for the whole summer. The longest I had ever ridden was 98 miles... once... and it almost killed me. But somehow I found myself at 6:30am standing under the Red Bull starting line arch with a crafted piece of metal between my legs about to ride 206 miles... Yeah, stupid.

Descent from Strawberry Pass (first climb)

After crossing the finish line I collapsed and sat right here for 20 minutes

Finally able to stand for a picture. 

Soon after I single handedly ate an entire large pepperoni pizza and 2 liters of root-beer, then passed out in the back seat of my own truck. It took a few days to fully recover. 

2nd year (2008)- My original crew had diminished, but I had two more friends to race with, both of which were first timers. I quickly went from the greenie to the veteran. The race was considerably easier for me this time around (not easy, but easier). It probably had something to do with the year of training now under my belt. I hung back for the first half of the race to ride with the "grandfather" of our cycling group (gotta respect the elders, right?) He must of had some stroke of sanity cause he decided after already finishing LOTOJA 5 times, he had nothing more to prove to himself and dropped out. Couldn't afford anymore gray hairs I suppose. This left me all by my lonesome. I asked the girlfriends (now wives) of my fellow riders how far ahead they were. "15 maybe 20 minutes..." 

I pumped my legs as fast as I could, determined to catch them. About 30 miles down the road I had caught up, only to get a flat tire. This put me back about 7 minutes, but I managed to catch them again with about 45 miles remaining. I was able to cross the finish line with my best friend, a moment to remember. 

Lesson learned: get a girl to watch you race the LOTOJA and you'll have a wife 6 months later.

Jayson and I somewhere in the first 30 miles 

Daniel, me and the "grandfather" Dave at the finish line

3rd year (2009)- This one's the heart breaker. In July 2009, while on a training ride on the the Alpine Loop in Utah I almost died (whether or not thats true is debatable, but it was one of my many near death experiences. The short version- on our descent down the east side, at about 40 mph, I went head to head with a car, then a tree, then the asphalt. The result was a broken hand, separated shoulder, bruised ribs and stitches on my hip and knee. After a trip to the hospital (I have now been a patient in all the Utah Valley hospitals) I was told not to do anything active for 4 months. That wasn't exactly on my agenda. So, with a still very separated shoulder and sore hand, I decided to puff up my chest, be a man and race LOTOJA... Yeah, stupid.

Preston taping my shoulder for the race

Mounting up at the starting line

And we're off

Unfortunately, the all the pain killers I took didn't last long enough. My pride and desire to be a man were overtaken by horribly agonizing pain. Not being able to hold the handlebars with my left hand made me a danger to other racers, and after 80 miles, I was disqualified. 

4th year (2010)- Coming back with a vengeance- like Bruce Willis in the Die Hard Trilogy, and nothing is going to stop me... unless its a car, or a tree... then I'll probably tap out.

He's Got A.D.D.

Those who know me best wouldn't find it odd to learn that I cannot sit stagnant for too long without slipping slowly into the dark abyss of madness/boredom. Most are already privy to that little tidbit of information. Its that very characteristic that fuels my insatiable desire to constantly be on the move, and depletes the stash in my piggy bank. 

Active- The word I would use to describe yesterday. Here's why...

Yes, all these activities were carried out in the same day- the same 12 hour period actually. Snowboarding at Park City, Tennis at Provo High School, Bouldering at the Quarry, and Cycling down to Spanish Fork.

Normally I would have never planned a day like this, but my crippling weakness of not being able to pass up a good time made all these events come to pass. I mean how often does the weather permit one to enjoy a winter wonderland AND a 65 degree spring day? I figure its like an eclipse or a meteor that only happens once every few years. Not taking advantage of such a miracle would be like punching Mother Nature in the face. And I cant do that, it not in my nature. Luckily, for my proof and documentation purposes, technology has advanced to the point where "Kodak Moments" can be captured on *phones, allowing me to document the day. 

*The first picture was taken earlier in the season. I didn't think to document my version of "The Wide World of Sports" until the days second activity.

Dude, I totally know him!

On occasion I have been known to be "in the right place at the right time" and quite literally bump into a celebrity. Of course such an encounter calls for some sort of jumbled combination of words to leap from my lips in no particular order, and usually in varying decibels. Its a disease... I really cant help it.

Now, I told you that so you'd better understand this...

I spent the Easter weekend in Mesa, AZ visiting friends and family. There is no better way to spend the first days of Spring than in 90 degree blue sky weather.

It’s a ten hour drive home from Mesa, so reason was screaming at us to be in the car and driving by 2pm. But, we couldn’t miss the second Sunday session of General Conference. Why? I’ll tell you why…

Elder Gregory A. Schwitzer, former president of the Russia Yekaterinburg Mission, was speaking!

(Fortunately for those present at the session, I was many hundreds of miles away. I may have made a rather large fool of myself in my diseased attempts to express my feelings reverently, but had a nervous breakdown and screamed jumbled combinations of words instead…)

While I watched him speak, feelings and memories from my two years spent in Russia raced through me. There were so many amazing experiences and so many wonderful people that changed my life. I love them all so much.

As for President Schwitzer, he is a spiritual giant that I will forever look to for advice and guidance in my life. He exemplifies everything that I wish to become in my “quest for manhood”. His genuine love for people is immeasurable. His positive attitude and immense zest for life is never unnoticed. His drive and energy in sharing the Gospel of Jesus Christ is insurmountable. He takes every opportunity to bear his sincere and humble witness of Jesus Christ. I have yet to meet someone with such an unfeigned love for our Savior. There was never a time that I left his presence without feeling uplifted and edified.

President Schwitzer taught me more than I ever believed I could learn, and I am forever grateful to have had his influence in my life. I love and respect that man far more than my ability to express in words.

Thank you president for your impact in my life.