Snyder Spring Quadathlon: Swim, Bike, Run, Move

Because Travis and Heidi will be in no condition for the next couple days to put two articulate sentences together, let alone manage a blog entry, I'm taking it upon myself to report on what I call the "Snyder Spring Quadathlon: Swim, Bike, Run, Move." I regret that I don't have Travis's ability to conjure up cool distinctive "branding" designs for this event (which we hope and pray will not become annual) and that I don't have Heidi's ability to photograph iconic moments and then post them in an aesthetically pleasing layout. Nevertheless, I'll press on using the meager language tools I have in my possession. (Note: that last bit is a nice example of litotes. Look it up.)

Friday Travis and I, along with assorted other volunteers, spent the day readying Salem's lovely Knoll Park for the next morning''s 8th annual Salem Spring Triathlon. (If it were a child, we would have baptized and confirmed it this year.) The highlights of these preparations: Travis's discovery of spray chalk, which comes in different colors and disappears after 10 days (could make "green" graffiti popular); the addition of two motor scooters, which we all enjoyed riding around (even Delys); and the addition of 200 candles (technical term for tall, slim orange traffic cones) marking the middle of the road along the bike course. Most of us got to bed by midnight, while Travis and Matt Ward did the all-night patrol and security watch, with back-up from Salem's finest. Even so, no one is ever ready for that 5 am wake-up.

Saturday, everything went as beautifully as it had the day before: plenty of volunteers, everything done on time, lots of enthusiasm, and lovely mild and sunny weather. Even Chief James complimented me on how well Travis had things arranged this year. Our only real problem was the theft of a box of about 120 extra race shirts by person or persons unknown who have ruined their personal karma for at least a decade or so. If I believed in reincarnation, I'd expect them to come back as Dick Cheney or Bernard Madoff or perhaps something worse, like an ebola virus. Delys took care of Luke and Miles, so Heidi could spend most of the day at the race. Delys says she had the easy job, but tending those boys for 8 or 9 hours is lots harder than yelling at spectator who try and get on the race course. Heidi's custom-made award medals were a big hit. She's getting pretty good at making bling.

Usually, the clean-up after the awards is the bane of triathlon existence because everyone is so hammered (a condition not even hammer gel can remedy), but this year things seemed to go especially well and very quickly, thanks to family and 12th Ward members. We had virtually everything packed in the trailer by around 5. Travis and I both commented that we felt the best we'd ever felt at 5 on triathlon Saturday. My favorite part of clean-up was gathering all the candles from the bike course. We had two teams in pick-up trucks. I was with Sam (1st counselor in the bishopric0 and Doug (YM president) in Doug's SUNROC truck. Sam and I were in the truck bed snatching candles left and right while Doug drove along. Marissa, Brooke, Steven, and Steve Parker were in the other truck. I think it took us just over an hour or so.

We would have been sitting pretty if it weren't for the fact that Travis and Heidi had signed closing papers during triathlon check-in. They had to be out of their house by Monday evening, so we had a long day Monday loading and cleaning. I never knew Marissa was such a great wall cleaner. I'll let Travis and Heidi provide the other moving (and I do mean "moving") details, but I think it'll be awhile before any of us has the distance necessary to report on the move in grim detail.

Except I'll share an image that I'll always remember as the crowning moment of our long, long weekend. When Delys and I were heading down the freeway this morning headed for BYU, I noticed a Titan coming up behind us in the left lane. It was Travis, of course, loaded down with the last of their possessions. He shot us a bemused look that said, "Yes, I'm on the road again doing what I do. Even I can't believe it." The last we saw of him he was heading for Eagle Mountain (where I hope Heidi, Luke, and Miles were still sleeping) talking on the phone with some business partner about some new deal or project.

Here's what I learned over the past few days shadowing Travis:

Entrepreneurs never clock out; they just go on an occasional break.
Entrepreneurs never sleep; they just recharge until the green light comes on.
Entrepreneurs never die; they just move on to a new market.

If I were an entrepreneur myself, these observations would constitute 3/7 of a best-selling non-fiction book, which would probably be enough to get a publishing contract with a cash advance. But I'm going to stop right here. I don't want to make a habit out of this.