.@MittRomney Found out an employee has ovarian cancer. Gave her a pair of “Avengers” tickets & a “funny” hat as a severance package.

There’s more and they’re great.

Friend and coworker Jim was given a Kindle by a coworker in King City, and he’s just eaten it up. Coworker Heather has one, and she sings its praises often. I’ve only ever met one person who owns a Kindle who didn’t love it, and that’s Tracy, who’s weird anyway.¹

It turns out that for me, the Kindle solves a lot of problems and removes a lot of barriers to reading.

For one, the books I like tend to be physically large. The one I’m reading now, Spin, is 1.5 pounds. I requested it at the library just so I could take it to the UPS Store and weigh it on their state-certified scale. 1.5 pounds. It’s also 9.5 inches tall, 6.6 wide and 1.25 inches thick. It’s roughly the same size as the third Harry Potter book.

But let’s look at another popular book. The biggest Harry Potter book is Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The hardcover is 870 pages long. It is 9.5 by 6.5 and is 2.25 inches thick. It’s also 2.66 pounds.

Amazon says that my Kindle Touch is 6.8 by 4.75 inches and is 0.4 inches thick. The UPS Store scale put it at .46 pounds, just less than half a pound.

Now, I’ve got all seven Harry Potter and all three Spin books on my Kindle. I’ve also got all the Harry Dresden, Artemis Foul, Christopher Moore and Neil Gaimen books on there. It’s still half a pound. If I add all the works of Tolkien to it, still half a pound.

The point is that holding a book that’s almost three pounds and, when open, is almost 20 inches wide is a chore. The same book on a Kindle is a joy.

And as long as I’m on the topic of size and weight, the thing fits in my already crammed-full-of-stuff bag far better than a hardcover from the library does. And as I’m approaching the end of the fifth Harry Potter Book, I don’t have to lug the next one around in case I finish it while I’m at the DMV.

And make no mistake: I’ll have my Kindle with me when I’m at the DMV. It’s small and thin enough that if it’s not in my bag, it’ll be in my cargo or back pocket. And the next book on my list will be with me, and the next one, too.

Which is really a huge thing. The Kindle also represents instant gratification. No waiting for the time to make it to the bookstore, no waiting for the book to show up on the library hold shelf. It’s just there, up to about 3,000 of them. I know, I know, who needs 3,000 books with them all the time? If you have to ask, you’re nit-picking and nothing will please you at all. This is not the website for you.

Now, at one time, I read books on my iPhone. The trouble there is more than that it’s small, it’s also that for work and, yes, for pleasure, I spend a lot of time looking at back-lit computer screens. For all intents and purposes, I spend all day looking at a light bulb with text on it. The Kindle’s cool E ink screen is completely different. It’s much more like reading type printed on paper than it is like reading on a screen.

It’s not back-lit, so you can’t read it in the dark, but unlike a backlit screen, you can read it in the full glare of the sun.

The other big problem with the iPhone as a reading device, at least for me, is that it’s so much more than a reading device. It’s also the Internet, Twitter, Plants vs. Zombies, Bejeweled. How can I expect myself to dig in and get comfortable with a book when it’s on a backlit 3.5-inch screen that also has video games and texting?

And then there’s the weird little techie things about the Kindle that make it wonderful. Many of us already own a bunch of eBooks. Getting them onto the Kindle is easy as can be: I email them to myself.^{2 3} The added bonus of emailing the books is that they all show up in this thing called Kindle Cloud. It means that I can read my Kindle book on my iPhone using the Kindle app, and it knows where I’m at on both devices.

I know, I just sat there complaining about reading my book on an iPhone. But what if I were at a work required function without my Kindle and wanted to go all anti-social? Whip out the iPhone, it’s already got my book, it remembers my place, so I’m there. It is also good for bathroom or smoke breaks or all the things I can’t think of right now.

And it turns out I love my Kindle. I love it the way I love Field Notes and Moleskine notebooks. I love it the way I love Camelbak Better Bottles. I love it the way I love my iPod Shuffle.

Like everything else I mentioned, the Kindle is is a near-perfect thing. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: When the good choice is the easy choice, we all do good. Choosing to read is a good choice. The Kindle makes it easy. It’s why I didn’t want the color Kindle Fire or an iPad for this purpose. I wanted a limited black and white device that would encourage me to read and get out the way of my reading.

I think about my friends and family and cannot think of anyone who wouldn’t benefit from and love a Kindle. Except for Blaine. Blaine’s special when it comes to tech. I still love him.

This here is a blending of two versions of his song Hyperdrive one from the Ziltoid album and one from The Devin Townsend Project’s Addicted album. It’s weird to listen to.

I got in at all because Keith Schmidt, who owns K-Man, my bike shop, has been involved in Wildflower for at least 20 of its 30 years of existence. He pulls a lot of water at Wildflower, and he asked the powers that be if I could have a press pass and, bam, press pass. I took my press pass to the registration table and, bam, comped entry to the Olympic race. I can’t thank Keith enough for that. It was a life-changing thing, as you’ll see, and it never would have happened without him.

And you know, had Keith not had the parts and wherewithal to help me put together my bicycle, I wouldn’t have had a bike to ride and the whole thing would have been moot. So really, he got me in and he made it so I had the gear I needed to perform at all. So I think I’d damn well better put a K-Man logo on my bike, hadn’t I? Yes, I had better, and I will wear that sticker with a heart full of pride and gratefulness.

Now, Wildflower is actually three triathlons in one big event. On Saturday, there are two races: the shorter mountain bike course and — and I swear they say it with the capital letters — The Long Course.

The mountain bike course isn’t really a mountain bike course. I get the distinct impression that it’s a sort of entry-level course, but to make things interesting, it’s on fire roads and other unpaved roads. It’s a ¼-mile swim, 10-mile bike ride, and 2-mile run. No problem, sounds like fun.

The Long Course, however, is sort of the holy grail of Wildflower. It’s a half Iron Man: 1.2-mile swim, 56-mile bike ride — road bikes, on paved road — and a 13.1-mile half-marathon run.

As Cassandra and I drove in on Saturday, the Long Course racers were still on the road. We saw this obese woman on a bike struggling up a hill and we were both pretty flummoxed. I remember Cassandra asking why somebody in that condition would do such a grueling race. The only thing I could think is she just had no idea what she was getting into. “Twelve mile run? I dunno. Sounds easy. It’s 12 miles from here to to the KFC and that doesn’t seem too far. Are you gonna finish those fries?”

She ended up finishing dead last. But, credit where credit is due, she finished. I estimate that about 80 people did not finish. One of the people who did not finish came all the way from Scottsdale, Arizona, to not finish; another person came from Souix Falls, South Dakota; another from Indianapolis, Colorado, Wyoming, Virginia, Ohio, you get the point. That’s gotta suck enormously.

“Hey, Laura Garrity! Welcome back to Wilson, Wyoming! How was the race? Did you win?”

“[mumble mumble].”

“What? Laura, you took a week off work and flew out to California! You shipped your bike! How’d you do? Was it worth it?”

“I didn’t finish.”

“But you spent like $2,500 just to get there! Did you get injured?”

“[mumble mumble].”

“What?”

“No, it was just too hard.”

Yeah. Eff that. So good job to the fat lady Jennifer Maninch from Monterey, California, who finished last.

I stayed the night in K-Man’s camp, near their huge display area. Well, only like half of it was display. The rest was the most impressive temporary bike shop I’ve ever seen. All the workers said they hadn’t yet come across a problem they couldn’t fix. That’s pretty impressive.

One very cool thing that happened was when Steve Hodgson, the guy who’s in charge of North County Physical Therapy, lent his bike to a guy who flew in from Oregon to do The Long Course. The guy’s carbon-fiber bike frame broke minutes before the race. So Steve lent him his bike and the broken guy finished. True, he had a dead $3,000 bike frame, but at he got to do what he came here to do. That was a beautiful thing to me. I always had a good impression of Steve, but this really put his goodness on display for me. I think very highly of him now. It’s no wonder he was part of Keith’s crew.

I got to spend time with my bike friends Steve Anzel and Jesse Buerster and that was a ton of fun. Those guys are great and they make me want to try BMXing out.

Day two is the day of the Olympic course. A 1-mile swim in the lake, a 25-mile road ride, and a 6-mile run.

It was gnarly, and this is where my story really starts.

First, the line to the porta-potties was comically long. It made me grateful that some people I know but will not name liberated one from the big long line and sequestered it behind the territory line. That was pretty cool, though I deeply regret not being part of the Moving of the Porta Potty. Next time.

My bike is not great, but it was affordable and it is mine. I build my own bikes, generally because I can afford $50 at a time for parts but can’t afford a $600 entry-level bike. That is because, in part, I work for a stupid company. But, and this is not hyperbole, my resume is open in another window as I type this. I am determined to own a brand new bike within two years and I can’t do it where I’m at.

But what’s cool about it is it’s my bike. I know every inch of that thing. I made or scrounged every last part. I run my own cables.¹ And check this out: there are custom-made parts on my bike. My dad, as I have mentioned before, is the bracket king, and there are two incredible brackets on my bike thanks exclusively to him.

And, also, there’s a big long story about the brakes. It’s not a very interesting story if you’re not a super bike nerd, so I won’t get into that here. Suffice it to say that my dad is responsible for my brakes working well, working at all, and being damn splendid. So I’d better put a “I ♥ My Dad” sticker on my bike right next to my K-Man sticker, hadn’t I? Yes, I had better.

But there were at least three bikes significantly less good than mine on the track. Here is one of them. It’s got friction down-tube shifters which isn’t a deal-breaker, but the tape falling off the handlebar sure is.

There was also what looked like a converted Diamondback POS with a cruiser-style handlebar on it. I passed that guy though he started about an hour before I did. That was gratifying. “Ha! Passed that guy!” And I saw at least two high-end but full-suspension mountain bikes. Too heavy, a terrible choice.

Now, each racer gets a number. That number gets stuck to you and written on you and pinned to you. That number corresponds to an area in the giant staging area, and that is your spot where you get to keep your stuff. So before the race started, I dropped my bike on the bar, and arranged my bag with my biking shoes and socks, running shoes and socks, and kept my insulated water bottles hidden in the shade of my bag from the sun. And, thank you Camelbak, all my water was still icy cold when I got to it, even my running water bottle, after nearly 3 hours of siting out there.

I bought a pair of triathlon shorts and a cool new jersey from an Arroyo Grande company. Triathlon shorts are like biking shorts, but the padding is a bit smaller so they’re not uncomfortable to run or swim in. The jersey matches my bike and is a fine thing.

I hung out with a guy named Dan who was in my class and we started together. I put sunscreen on his back for him because  he couldn’t reach. I told him, “look, I’m happily married and am not hitting on you. Let me help you out. You’ll thank me later.” I didn’t say “nohomo.”

We entered the water and things immediately got horrible. My goggles are total crap, it turns out, because they fog up like crazy. They’ve never been an issue at the gym pool because the gym pool is clean and going the right direction is easy because there’s a huge, high-contrast black line on the bottom of the pool to follow. Fogged goggles? Big deal. The huge black line is, like I said, high contrast and easy to follow. There is no such thing in the lake. And since all of your visual cues are out of the water, fogged goggles and no prescription spectacles means I was essentially swimming blind.

So ostensibly, it’s a .93-mile swim, but I swear I swam 1-¼ miles just in going the wrong direction. Lifeguards in kayaks had to point me in the right direction at least three times. I swam great, I had a strong stroke, and it took me the wrong way. It was super frustrating, though the actual act of swimming was pretty easy. The wetsuit kept me buoyant, so that was killer.

I finally got the hell out of the lake and threw my goggles away in disgust. I headed up the unswept ramp, slowly struggling to peel the wetsuit off as I went. Eventually I got the damn thing off, got the shoes and socks on, got the jersey on — I was smart and had packed the pockets with gel nutrition ahead of time — and headed out. Only to find I’d lost my little anklet sensor thing. So I had to go get a new one. They were pros about it, and I only lost about 30 seconds, but I felt stupid. I found out later I’d taken the sensor off with my wetsuit and it just sat there with my bag.

The first mile of the bike ride is a pretty intense hill. I’m very pleased to say it wasn’t a big deal for me. Keith had told me ahead of time to just take it slow and not burn out on it, and that’s exactly what I did. Plus, I’m really good at the whole bike thing and the hill thing, so I just motored up and it was cool. Going up the hill, I saw a volunteer from the Cal Poly triathlon team that I swam with at Cuesta College. It was good to see him, but heading up the hill, I lacked the breath to shout at him. I regret that.

The rest of the ride was just awesome. You know why the SuperBowl of track and field is held in North County? Because it’s beautiful, that’s why. I live where people vacation. I remind myself of that when I’m grumbling about my entry-level paycheck. “At least I live here,” I think to myself.

It was rolling hills and gorgeous. I made three stops on the bike ride. One was because I just had to pee. My dad reminded me later that his Triathlon friend, Dave, says triathletes wear black shorts so you can’t tell when they pee in the saddle. That may be true, but I was only racing myself and nobody else, and I’m not down with peeing my pants.²

I also stopped to pick up a $20 bill somebody had dropped, and again to snag a $15 CamelBak water bottle. I emptied it out and threw it into a pocket on my jersey. Damned if jerseys aren’t one of the best tools a cyclist can own.

As I headed into the staging area, I saw my wife and mom on the right and it made me so happy. It really is hard to overstate how good it felt to get cheered on by people who love me. Thinking back to how it felt, I’m not ashamed to say I’m getting a little teary-eyed as I sit here at my desk. It felt that good.

And then the run. I’m good at running and I’ve been practicing my hills, but nothing could have prepared me for this. That one hill at the beginning sucked, the hill that immediately followed it sucked, and the big big super big hill with no end in sight super dammit sucked all the way to the moon.

But there were lots of volunteers with water and, in some cases, hoses to spray us down with. I poured water on my head at each opportunity and got sprayed down, but things got bad when water got into my shoe. Wet socks suck for running in. It wasn’t a deal breaker and I don’t think it slowed me down very much, but lesson learned. No more getting sprayed.

At the end of the race, Jesse and Steven were there cheering with a big sign that said, “It’s a boy!!!” That was more incapacitating then the wet socks. I was nearly incapacitated with hilarity! My parents were also there, and I loved that, too, all over again. But during the race, we were kind of like ships in the night. Next time, I will bike and run with my iPhone so my family can track me on Find My Friends.³ It’ll mean they can go chill out in the shade for most of the bike ride, but when I’m 5 miles away, they can fight their way up to the front so we can scream and point at each other. I’ll also make sure they bring beer. For them, not me. Well, not for me immediately, but probably after a while.

The thing was great. It was a great event, a lot of fun. It was hard, but I had lots of good nutrition throughout the whole thing, and I wasn’t torn up after. Even my knee was fine, thanks to the relative shortness of the run and all my knee braces. And it was great having my wife there for the whole thing. She was wonderful support and it was so good seeing there at the transitions. And she’s a good looking woman, so it’s nice to have her around anyway. But she said that she used my press pass to head down and prep my shoes for me while I was on the bike ride. I didn’t even notice at the time, but I know it’s true and I’m positive in retrospect it cut down on some frustration.

Wildflower was awesome. I’m planning the next one. I’m planning the changes and up grades to my bike (cheapest ones first). I’m shopping for goggles and anti-fog solutions. Maybe rubbing coconut oil on the inside of them. Coconut oil fixes everything, after all.

Next year, I’m doing the mountain bike course on Saturday and the Olympic course on Sunday. Then, no matter how long it takes me with fogged goggles and stopping for $20′s, I’ll have honest-to-goodness bragging rights. That’s important.

Creig P. Sherburne, #6030.

Class: Male, 30 – 34

Overall time: 03:38:44

Overall rank: 1,314 out of 1,929

Class rank: 193 out of 234

Swim: 39:38

Bike out: 53:05

Bike in: 50:43

Bike overall: 01:43:48

Run: 01:03:37

Run pace: 00:10:15 per mile

[Jason] used to have a parlor trick to demonstrate this idea. “Stick out your arms,” he’d say, “straight out at your sides,” and when he had you in the appropriate cruciform position he’d say, “Left index finger to right index finger straight across your heart, that’s the history of the Earth. You know what human history is? Human history is the nail on your right-hand index finger. Not even the whole nail. Just that little white part. The part you clip off when it gets too long. That’s the discovery of fire and the invention of writing and Galileo and Newton and the moon landing and 9/11 and last week and this morning. Compared to evolution we’re newborns. Compared to geology, we barely exist.”

Here’s the book on Amazon (as cheap as $0.21), Kindle, and the iBookstore.

He designed and made a bracket to hold a water bottle cage to the front of my bike, and it is killer.

The part is only half complete, which is almost unheard for my dad. He tends to either never finish projects or not let a project out into the world until it is both finished and perfect. But I need it for this weekend and need to get a ride in with it in place, so there it is, functional yet unfinished. And that’s the beauty of this particular bracket. It is functional and attractive today, but after my triathlon, it will be functional and gorgeous.

There’s another bracket in this photo, though you can’t see it. It’s holding the brake in place, lower than the hole in the fork would allow. On both of these projects and hundreds of others through the years, my dad makes art that, because it’s done right, most people never notice.

So it’s not hyperbole to say that my dad’s existence is a constant, yet almost silent reminder of the differences between a machinist and an artist.

I am lucky and so, so proud to have him on my team.