New Photo

For those of you who may or may not have noticed, my blog photo ID below.

When I found this picture I thought it was the coolest thing ever. A ripped 80 year old in "man thigh" shorts pole vaulting.  What a stud.  However, I am feeling a change coming on.  So this post is a contest for my new photo ID.  Entries will be considered throughout the week and a final decision will be made next Monday.

 

just a photo.

We seem to get more perspective on how much we love them while they are sleeping... but with Luke it is especially so.  It really is the only time he is not moving.

ps-lance is coming back. thoughts?

"So... what's up with the blog?"

Travis- "I am on a blog-cation".

Inquisitive Friend- "Ummmmm. that's stupid."

Travis- "Stupid? check out my profile. Blog member since 2005. I was blogging before the blogging bomb went off. Staying with this thing requires a dosed effort."

Friend- "Dosed effort? that doesn't make any sense."

Travis- "To paraphrase the immortal Ice Cube, " Life (and blogging) is not a track meet, it's a marathon."

Friend- "I see. So what about all the current hyper-bloggers?"

Travis- "The blog youngsters are only blog binging which can only lead to one place.... Blog Bulimia."

Burn, Burn, Burn Yes It's Gonna Burn

List of views I like to see out of my home's windows...

1. landscape panoramas
2. mountain peaks
3. blue skies
4. fluffy clouds

and

5. 50 foot flames

Yes our house is right in the thick of all this, it is currently in "evacuation notice".










Let this be a lesson to each of you. If you lapse in your posting, the blog gods will burn your house down.

What does wood glue have to do with Nissan Titans?

Keeping with my title format from a few posts ago I thought I would explore this question. One of the blessings of our newborn Miles is that Luke and I have been spending a lot more time together. He is my bud... good or bad as you will see.

This last week, we went to see the movie Kung Fu Panda and not coincidentally went to his first Karate class a few days later. Watching him sprint around the dojo like a madman is a post in itself. Suffice it to say he doesn't lack enthusiasm, flexibility, or "Hi-Ya!" yelling abilities.

Well this evening Heidi seemed a bit strung out from her "Snyder boyz" so I took Luke to the store to get a new garden hose and sprinkler. I get a kick out of cruising around with him as he asks endless questions about everything that enters his little head. Well I took him out of the truck and walked into the store holding his hand. After a few steps I noticed that his hand had some kind of gunk on it (for non-parents and those who may have forgotten this is very normal for 3 year old boys). I kind of shrugged it off and continued shopping. As I stood in front of the gas powered weed wackers debating the merits of 2 cycle engines I noticed Luke had the stuff on his pants and shirt as well. I began growing more concerned about what this might be and finished up shopping and headed back to the truck. When I got there I opened the back door and noticed the same stuff all over the back seat and dripping down the sides and onto the floor.

Wood Glue ... "Are you freaking kidding me??? Wood Glue!"

It is everywhere.

Luke is crying his eyes out.

I am ticked.

As I began cleaning the mess and calming myself down I look back at sobbing Luke, who I tossed into the "timeout" truck bed, only to see blood all over his hands and face from a bloody nose.

Freeze frame this image in your minds... This moment, this insane moment is fatherhood.

Eventually he and the truck got cleaned up and we got home to have Heidi ask casually,

"How was the store?"

Answer. "We need more wood glue".


Behind the scenes ironic bonus material: The wood glue was in my truck because a few days earlier our Kung Fu Luke grabbed onto his bedroom drapes and swung off his bed only to tear down the curtains and the wooden rod which held them up. To fix this problem I needed several things, some screws, new drywall anchors, and the infamous wood glue.

What I hated I learned to love through obedience.

One of the most memorable talks I heard during my MTC stay was one entitled, "What I hated I learned to love through obedience." The speaker used his evolving reaction to brussel sprouts to demonstrate the process of obediently going from hate to love.

Since then, I have been on self examination searching for my own evolution from hater to lover. Here are three examples...

1. Mowing Lawns

HATE- I began my mowing career as an 11 year old needing cash. This necessary evil turned into a neighborhood business and I would cycle through lawns all spring and summer. It was the bane of my existence. October couldn't come soon enough so that dang stuff would die!

LOVE- I now love the melodic sound of a mower running in the distance, the smell of freshly cut grass, and even the green chloroplast goo that sticks to your shoes. I think this "love" evolution was complete when watching the 2002 world series I was more fascinated by the outfield grass than the game itself.

2. Running

HATE- My running career began around the same time as my mowing one. The catalyst was a family reunion in sunny St. George complete with a swimming pool and tanned sinewy California cousins. As soon as I put it all together, I was lacing shoes up and heading out the door. As my squishy frame rumbled along the first couple hundred feet I began doing math, "Okay if today is May 21 and the reunion is June 3rd that gives me almost 2 whole weeks!" (My concept of metabolism and weight loss was a little off at this point.) I ended up making it about a mile and a half. My Dad found me an hour later lying down on the sidewalk next to a lawn with a rotating sprinkler that sprayed me every 11 clicks. Two weeks later I wore a shirt in the pool.

LOVE- The other day I was in Orem and drove by that same piece of sidewalk and smiled. I have no idea how many miles I've run since then but I love it. Endurance sports have brought a lot of happiness these last 20 years or so. Whenever I've moved from place to place I have never felt truly at home until I've established 5-6 running routes. One of my dream trips is to take Heidi back to England with running shoes in hand and go from area to area to do all the I'm stressed out, I need a break, oh look a sheep, It's raining again, my companion is annoying running trails.

3. Heidi (yes I mean my wife)

HATE- When I first met that leggy blond summer of '00 I was smitten. But then she turned all cold on me. Turns out her roomate "claimed" me or something and so out of loyalty Heidi turned on the ice when around me. I of course didn't get the new attitude and my affection turned to extreme dislike. Spurred on by my secret love I became the "Heidi Hater" and looked for any opportunity to be annoyed by her.

LOVE- Luckily the dust settled and we were both "obedient" to the magical love between us! Now she is it... Plain and simple. The Bees Knees.

So what can we learn from this post?

-Most hating happens during teen and early adult years.
-If given creative license I will most likely mow your lawn for free.
-If you are going to wear a shirt in a pool do your best to blame it on UV rays.
-Heidi is only so loyal when a HOT man is involved.

Miles Edward Snyder aka Mello Yellow

Here are some photos. He has a bit a jaundice and is really chill so his first official nick name is mellow yellow.

Welcome.

He is here!

Blond Blue eyes
7lbs. 1 oz. 19 1/2 inches long
and a very good boy

pictures to come

What does Led Zeppelin have to do with road biking?

Whenever I leave for a bike ride Heidi usually takes a moment to express some form of worry about my safety. I usually laugh it off like "Hey Babe... my cat like reflexes will take care of me just fine." The truth is I am scared to death of crashing. It's been about 4 years since I last tasted asphalt going down the Alpine Loop. I went over the handle bars on a particularly sharp switchback and as any roadie knows the longer it's been since your last crash, the chance of a new one looms ever near.

My current great fear is descending down the canyon and colliding with wildlife, a deer to be exact. Last summer I had some near misses as random deer jumped out of the brush as I zipped by on my 17 lb. carbon fiber bullet. Luckily we missed each other but every time I thought I was toast. I think the sight of a middle aged man in a helmet sporting spandex hypnotized the deer long enough to keep them from moving into my path.

They looked kind of like this as I rode by.

Today was my first '08 ride up the canyon and I enjoyed the peaceful climb with no thoughts of deer crashing. (It does help that when riding up the canyon I average about 6 mph). However when I hit the turn around and got ready to begin the descent, the thought hit me "Those damn deer are out there waiting to get you killed." Now at this point I should mention that one of my theories is that cyclists are particularly susceptible to deer collisions because they are so quiet coming down the road relative to cars.

Here is where we find the answer to this blog's title question, "What does Led Zeppelin have to do with road biking? the answer...

I clipped my feet into the pedals and started the descent. As my speed and deer fears began to rapidly increase, I said to myself, "Those deer are going to hear me coming this time." Just then I let out a true Robert Plant siren scream, "You need coolin' baby, I'm not foolin'I'm gonna say it, yeh! Go back to schoolin." The trees were whipping by while the adrenaline and inability to hear myself kept urging my siren song. "Ohhhhhhhh I gotta whole lot of love... dun dun dun uh a whole lot of love." By the time I made it back into the flats of the city I was unharmed having seen no deer and completing "Whole lot of love" and half of "Dazed and Confused".

At this time I'd like to thank the CD player in my truck for inspiring me these preceding weeks (I've been on Zeppelin kick lately) and Mr. Robert Plant for that freaky falsetto voice that must have had those deer scared to death.

Now Hiring: Contract Killer.

One of my earliest memories is standing in a park feeding ducks. This experience is memorable because of one thing... fear. Don't imagine me as a little 3 year old interacting quietly with mother nature on a sunny afternoon. Instead, picture my little legs running in terror as I am chased and snapped at by a swarm of wildlife.

Since this occassion I have harbored a subconscious hatred for water fowl.

Fast forward 20 something years and I hate them even more. You see, I have a little event coming up this June, where some 1000 triathletes will descend on the Salem Pond for competition. Every year since we first started this race more and more ducks return from migration and decide to set up shop at my race venue. They show up quacking and making a mess of everything. The city wants to get rid of them but is powerless to stop them due to some duck equal rights activists stepping in to protect them.

What is a duck hater to do?

I'll tell you... murder for hire. I posted this ad on craigslist.

Wanted:
Experienced hunter with flexible morals willing to work nights from 1am to 4am. Need to have appropriate firearms with silencing capabilities. Pay to be determined per head. Will provide black garbage bags.

Making Peace with Lance.

When Heidi and I were first married we had a large framed poster of Lance Armstrong hanging over our kitchen table. In addition to matching our kitchen colors, it was flat out cool. It showed Lance out on a training ride and in the corner was written, "People want to know what I am on? I am on my bike busting my ass six hours a day."

Lance in simpler times, a pre testicular cancer speedo wearing triathlete.
I don't think it is a coincidence that he is a "man thigh" master during this cool phase of his life.

I have been a fan of Lance pre-cancer when he first showed promise in "le Tour". I read his books and consumed his total domination of his sport. All the while fearing his fall from grace. In recent years he seems to be more of a retired athlete/ celebrity/ mid life crisis guy.

This is the cycle as I've observed it...
Cool punk triathlete kid,
cocky American cyclist,
sickly humble cancer victim,
cancer survivor tour champ,
married family guy and Tour favorite,
into my kids I'm inspiring guy,
I'm divorced and care about being famous guy,
I'm retired bachelor I hang with celebs guy,
mid life crisis Paris and Mary Kate guy
who turns into ?

I am not sure anymore but I think it can only get better unless he joins the Taliban or something. As my fanhood for Lance has evolved, all that remains is his discipline and pure athleticism. During a more naive phase myself, I thought that someone who had gone through the cancer and was that disciplined and hard working was by extension a great person. Like most things in life, I guess it is just more complicated than that.

My recent hope with Lance is his recent training and racing of marathons. Maybe with all that time to think on those long training runs he will regain some of his soul. He races the Boston Marathon in a few days and I still hope he annihilates. If I am totally honest with myself, I know I would watch the entire 26.2 if it was televised. The magic memories I have of watching him on OLN racing at 5am (thanks Euro time change) every July for seven years are that good.

Hmmm. I wonder if that old poster is still in the basement?

*see video below for a sample of the discipline and athleticism referenced above.

Lance Armstrong attacking Alpe D'Huez 2001

Pure endurance animal. This video is my emergency motivator to go work out.

Tired of my face.

As fun as that last posting was to compose I am getting really sick of my face being plastered all over my blog. You can look forward to some upcoming entries in an effort to get that post further down the screen. Here are a few things that my life is all about right now...

-Watching my cute little woman slowly beginning to waddle as she gets closer to labor. Man what the ladies have to go through!
-Slowly but surely beginning to exercise again.
-Obsessing over my first real lawn. We laid sod in the late fall and my fingers are crossed that it will all grow. (incidently is it just me or are trees blooming really late this year?)
-Triathlon, Triathlon, Triathlon!
-Dreaming about the upcoming softball season.
-Not being excited about turning 30? yikes.
-Having tons of fun playing with my little boy. He just gets cooler and cooler.
-Going back and forth over the name of our next little guy... I think once I see his face I'll know.
-Trying to eat better while Heidi is nesting and making all sorts of goodies. (example: she had made G-ma and G-pa' Ghent's strawberry shortcake recipe like 12 times over the last 2 months.)
-Trying to think of some fun summer trips and vacations.
-Finishing up a brutal round of dental work. Can you say crowns stink?

That's it.

Web faces

Because it so easy now to have a place for yourself on the web, (via myspace, facebook, and yes blogger) people have begun developing marketing campaigns for themselves.

Whether we realize it or not, each decision we make in regard to our "online self" is a calculated choice made on how we want to be seen by other people. I thought I'd provide a few examples...




"After weeks of online camera analysis I have realized by best side is my left. In addition I am wannabe artistic so I am posing as though I just heard a noise and am looking to see what it is"








"I love Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen and have perfected their pursed lips and big eyes. If only I could get the eating disorder down."










"I just grew this sweet mustache and I think it would be excellent if everyone saw it. I also think making the photo sepia tone makes it look more rustic like an old cowboy photo."







"I am an angry intellectual with a beard... what are you looking at? huh? I said what are are you looking at???









"My wife and little boy are so seriously cute, why would I even attempt to put my mug online?"









"I have subscriptions to People, In Touch, Us Weekly, and OK magazine. Through these resources I have come to realize that women are most valued as sex objects. Oh my gosh, look at me... He He!"









"Can you say Dateline NBC To Catch a Predator?"







"I am a stone cold white boy making gang signs because I watch MTV and BET and think that this is the only way to get the ladies. What's up baby?"









"Well hello my name is Simon and I like to do drawings."









(Thank you to all models who participated in this study)

Equal rights for Men.

This election year seems to be pumping the current American political climate with new intensities regarding racial and gender equality. I can't help but feel a bit left out. I am a middle class white guy, really the "villain" in all of these discussions. I am the guy that discriminates against the black people I encounter while sexually harassing all females. Really if Hillary and Barrack are looking for some common ground they should unite over how lame I am. However, with all the "focus" on these two inequalities I have noticed a disturbing new discrimination on the rise in America today.

It is the outright hate and disgust I see manifested toward the "man thigh".


I am not sure what has happened over the last 30 years to generate such a discriminatory attitude but it wasn't always this way. One of the most beloved 80's television shows flexed it's man thighs every chance they had.

Indeed those male quadraceps and hamstrings were allowed to be free, to breathe fresh air, to have the right to expose themselves to the world. Sadly, in the ensuing years the short length has continued to lower and lower itself until now all man thighs everywhere are covered and contained by a hateful society. Even sports are taking their cue from this disturbing trend. The last remaining venue where the man thigh has been free from this oppression is under attack. The man thigh staple, the precious speedo, is being replaced by full length leggings or in some cases a full body swimsuit during competitive swimming competitions. I ask you bretheren, what is the world coming to?



Those precious Air Jordan thighs were once free to flex and jump at will. In today's disturbing climate, basketball players dislike and even make fun of the old shorts. In a recent throw back event this year, the LA Lakers wore the old style uniforms which included man thigh freedom shorts. What was the only thing Kobe Bryant could say after his freedom experience? "I felt violated, I felt naked."

This quote reflects the most disturbing result of the increasing societal discriminations of the man thigh, it is the self loathing that men now posess regarding their own legs. It is up to us Men! We have to first unite and remove the man thigh stigma. Then perhaps our women will follow suit and no longer lie to themselves and joke about our thighs but embrace them as they know they want to.

As difficult as it is to admit it, the United States could take a lesson from European countries who are currently leading the way with man thigh equality. Their progressive initiatives allow for men to be free in their short shorts and speedos. To not be hated and mocked and perhaps... even loved and adored. My props goes to British actor Daniel Craig for doning the man speedo in his role as 007. It is small steps like this that can create a change for men everywhere.

So as the Summer season approaches, I am asking men everywhere to unite and let your thighs be free...

The change begins with me!

Cowboy Phillip has returned

My Dad has returned to the blogging world and is serving his penance by commenting on all the blogs he has missed since Chirstmas (I think he has been at it all morning!) Instead of working I have just spent the last 2 hours laughing like an idiot at my computer while reading all of his comments. Go check them out, just look for the saddle photo.

Thanks Dad you crack me up.

Seagull Catching

Every time we visit California I experience a phenomena known as "beach guilt". It goes something like this... "While in California we have to get in at least 3-4 beach visits or the vacation is a waste!" Sidenote: Do you think visitors to Utah get "snow guilt" or people visiting Washington DC get "Monument guilt"?

Anyway, this last trip was perfect if for the fact alone that we had several quality beach outings.

Luke's initial introductions to the beach involved 2 things, eating sand and getting really messy... not that fun. As a busy 3 year old this trip was a stark difference. He was much more interactive and had the time of his life (while still getting messy).

He spent one evening as the sun was setting on Hermosa Beach chasing a couple hundred seagulls all over the shore. Luke would make some squealing sound while waving his arms and running into the midst of the birds. They would all take off, land some 30 yards away, and reassemble. It was at this point that the blond, fuzzy haired boy would launch his next attack. True to "Luke form" this process repeated itself again and again.

A few days later he and I were back at the beach walking down the shore when we saw a smaller group of seagulls. I said to him "Luke go catch a seagull!" he looked at me and said "Dada, I can't they fly too far." Hmmm I thought...

Lesson learned.

We kept walking and began picking up seashells and assorted rocks off the sand. Suddenly, Luke let out a gasp as he picked up a large fully entact seashell. He excitedly brought it over to me and said,

"Look dad! a seashell... It's for Momma... It's for Momma's bra!"

Thanks a lot Disney.

Road trip with my boy.

My sweet wife has monopolized our little boy on her blog lately so I figured I'd have a go. We were in California over the last few days and it has been great to have some space from work. What have I realized? I really like my kid. Here is the first of several trip stories that I want to remember.

"RUN LIKE DASH!"
On our way to California we made a Vegas stop and spent the night at a place called Tahitian Village. It was your typical tropical themed hotel, but the pool was extra cool. It had one of those sandy beaches where the water is only a foot or two deep for the first 20 feet or so heading into the pool. For some reason it had pretty restrictive hours 9am to 6pm and I had to do some major planning to make sure that Luke and I got some good water time in.

(Sidenote: I remember how important the hotel pool was growing up. Somehow by taking Luke there I felt like I was truly fulfilling my "Dad" responsibilities)

Well there we were the next morning peeking through the gate at 8:55am shivering in a desert wind. Eventually some hung over "lifeguard" slowly made his way over to let us in. Of course Luke burst into the tahitian oasis like a mad man with me hovering closely. Due to the morning chill, he made his way first to the "hot beach" aka jacuzzi and spent time eyeing the pool while summoning the courage to get in.

While doing so I got an idea. I started talking to him about the incredibles movie and the scenes where "Dash", the speedy little boy, ran on water. I kept repeating the lines of the dad to Dash, "Not as cool as you running on water!" I immediately saw a light in Luke's face as he realized he could re-enact those scenes perfectly in the pool. He immediately climbed out of the "hot beach" and scurried into the pool for what ended up being an interval workout session of luke running back and forth into the water.

He didn't stop for 20 minutes while gasping off and on "Go dash go". He even got an awkward compliment from the sobering life guard... "hey man, your kid is in pretty good shape." Yes he is I thought, and he will sleep in that car from Vegas to LA without a peep.

And he did.

(Next Story "Seagull Catching")

Good movie or good Beatles?

The gloves are back on since last blog... I had fun with all the back and forth banter. Thanks for the conversation.

In the last few weeks I have seen two movies that use the Beatles anthology as soundtracks. The first film, "I am Sam" was decent once I got over the whole Sean Penn is mentally challenged thing. (sidenote: I have a hard time with actors pretending to be mental. Reference the abomination entitled "The Other Sister". I broke up with a girl because she loved it.) The second film, "Across the Universe" is a visual musical based on the 60’s “experience”. Despite some plot holes including a bizarre side story of an Asian lesbian singing “I want to hold your hand” to a fellow cheerleader, I liked it, too.

Here is the rub.

How do I really know whether I liked the films or the epic Beatles music accompanying them? See I love the Beatles, period. My recurring thoughts during both films was, “Those Brits are amazing… how many freakishly good songs did they create?”

Is my suspense that Sean Penn gets his daughter Dakota Fanning back or that I can hear Ben Harper cover “Strawberry Fields?”

Is my anticipation that Jude and Lucy get back together or the chance that they might sing “All you need is love” upon reuniting?

Regardless I have realized that it would be easy to disguise a lousy movie by having great music playing throughout. I may never know whether these movies are actually good but in the meantime my house is full of humming Beatles tunes and the occasional lyric.

In fact, Heidi is sitting on the couch behind me as I type this and twice now she has spontaneously sung in her cute hushed voice, “Nothings gonna change my world.”



(I heard on the news yesterday that the pedestrian on the right standing in the back ground passed away yesterday. You can click on the picture to see it bigger. It's a pretty cool story, he discovered after the fact it was him and became a pseudo celebrity in England. Rest in peace Abbey Road pedestrian. You are immortalized on one of the most famous photos in history.)

The gloves are off.

Heidi's blog action (the bees knees) is beginning to out pace mine and decisive action is required (It is hard to compete with Luke pictures☺). I have however been told by several people recently that they read my blog off and on but never leave a comment.

Excuse me?
Here is a formula for you blog reading cheap skates….

blog comment=$ for services

That’s right folks… I said it. All of you fellow bloggers know exactly what I am talking about. That magical “comments” number at the bottom of each posting drives your creative mind on and on to more engaging entries. They fuel the blog… period.

Comments don’t have to be ultra witty or even make sense. Take this recent one from marc, “Ha... you're like my wife.” I have no idea what this means but you know what, who cares? That OCD lawyer back east still loves me.

I of course realize that I have an obligation to maintain a high level of posting quality and consistency. I commit to do my best. This symbiotic relationship is a beautiful thing so don’t mess it up blog world.

In addition, I have become fascinated by the recent “couples blog” phenomena where couples use blogs to stay updated with each other. I’m sorry but my blog is for hardcore thoughts, no mushy stories about sugar cookies (see bees knees) dyno bites (see Connors) or picnics at the beach! (see matt and kay).

Ponder this until my next blog...

Myspace is for high schoolers
Facebook is for college students
Blogger is for young married couples?