Depth of Field

Happy Halloween

2009-10-30T15:58:00.001-06:00

Swine Flu

Y Mountain

2009-10-24T19:36:00.002-06:00

I hiked Y Mountain today with Deverl Humpherys who has hiked the trail 200 consecutive months -- 16.6667 years -- even in the snow and while battling prostate cancer. His accomplishments were so inspiring to me. Kinda made me wish I had kept my 7 year running streak going.

Memorial

2009-10-12T11:02:00.004-06:00

American Fork teacher Heather Christensen died Saturday after she made a desperate grab for the steering wheel of an out-of-control bus and was then thrown through the window as the vehicle rolled. Five students were injured, though none critically, in the crash on the way back from a band competition in Idaho. The driver of the charter bus is believed to have fainted from a medical condition, which in turn caused the accident.
Hundreds of current and former band members and community members came to a memorial for Christensen Sunday night at the high school. After they had a candlelight vigil.
Here is the Daily Herald story.

Band of Sisters

2009-09-21T12:51:00.005-06:00

Chatter in the room died as the television panned the football field. Each of the women held her breath and as the ball was kicked off a huge sigh filled the room.

The dozen-or-so wives seemed even more nervous than their BYU husbands who they were watching play football against Tulane University on the television.

"Awwww. Cuuuttte..." a few women said as they looked back to Mataya Pitta as her husband's picture and profile flashed on the screen.

Mataya giggled and blushed. "My hubby," she said.

Michelle Kaufusi started the Wives Club two years ago after coach Bronco Mendenhall mentioned he wanted something for the 40 wives of his married players. Something for them to foster friendships and support each other. She immediately said yes. She had been doing something similar but with only the wives and players who her husband, Steve Kaufusi, coached on the defensive line.

"I love the idea of the young wives having someone to talk to and relate with, they are truly in a unique situation," said Kaufusi. "They're young and married. Their husbands' are always at school, then practice until late in the evening and then studying. It is a real challenge to be newly married and hardly see your husband."

Kori Brown, wife of wide receiver Rhen Brown, knows that feeling. She married her husband on the first day of fall camp -- the start of practices when the team meets twice a day for several weeks.

"I didn't feel like a wife," she said. "I didn't even get to cook for him because he ate breakfast, lunch and dinner with the team."

Kori dropped her husband off at practice early in the morning after they were married and came back for him in the afternoon. She felt awkward walking up to the field to watch the last part of practice but found that the other wives were very welcoming to the newlywed. They laughed and bonded instantly.

All the women have been through the same thing. For some, they've done it for several seasons. They know how lonely it gets when the men are on the road and how awkward it is to have a husband whisked away for an autograph or picture in the grocery store. They've all adapted to practice schedules and learned how to massage sore muscles.

"There are so many of us that it's a good way to have a support system," said McKinzi Hall, the president of the Wives Club who is married to star quarterback Max Hall. "It's nice to support our husbands all together."

While their husbands are away, the women get together to watch the games. Each of them bring a snack to share -- 'Y' frosted cookies, vegetables with dip and licorice -- and they gab about babies, husbands and family during the commercials. But during the game, everything is serious. They get upset when they can't see the whole team and they encourage the young men on successful plays.

"Yes!"

"Good job, boys."

"Go. Go. Go. Ruuunnn."

There's always gasps and silence when someone gets hit. When Braden Hanson got hurt in the first quarter of the game against Tulane, McKinzi did what any wife would do, she thought about her husband.

"Oh. No. That's Max's left side," said cringed.

They all agree that watching their men get hit is the hardest part of watching the game. They'll groan and cover their face with their hands. Sometimes they even get mad.

"Quit making cheap shots against my husband," growled one of the wives.

But as soon as the camera changes angle Breanna Clawson points to the screen and asks her toddler, Chesni, sitting in her lap, "Is that daddy? Where's daddy?"

Many of the women are either working full time to support their husbands, going to school or taking care of a child and some are doing all these things at the same time. But the Wives Club allows them to get out at least once a month for an activity; a fireside, community service project, picnic or sleepover.

Being a BYU football wife can be stressful and tough, admits McKinzi. "But the time goes by so fast. You have to enjoy it." For all of them it's a bit of an adjustment to get used to the celebrity status that most of their husbands' have in Utah County.

"I carry a Sharpie in my purse," laughed McKinzi, who has fans coming up to her and her husband all the time when they are out. "It really is such an amazing experience to be a part of the BYU football life."

For those simple moments when the games are over and the interviews are finished and they catch a subtle wave or nod from their husbands as they walk off the field, it's all worth it.

And to have a group of girlfriends who understand the stresses, the nervousness and the excitement makes it even better.

"It's more than a club, it's a group of sisters," said Kori Brown.

Kidney Kamp

2009-09-14T13:14:00.001-06:00

Kidney Kamp
Aspen Grove, Utah

Horns

2009-09-11T14:49:00.003-06:00

Marching Band
American Fork, Utah

Grass Relays

2009-08-29T22:54:00.002-06:00

Grass Relays cross country meet
American Fork, Utah

Charity auction

2009-08-26T14:42:00.003-06:00

I haven't shot anything exciting in a while. It's my job, isn't it, to give away all the cool assignments? Like this one? Anyhow. I really liked this frame from a charity auction in Provo on Saturday.

Little pieces

2009-08-19T14:47:00.004-06:00

Demolition
Orem, Utah
I wasn't so excited to go to this building demolition assignment but it didn't turn out to be so bad after I got on the roof of the adjacent building.

Locks of Love

2009-08-16T21:50:00.002-06:00

For the past few months I've been thinking about donating my hair to Locks of Love. But it had just been a thought. Today I went to get a trim thinking that I had a least a couple more months to put up with my long hair. It was heavy and long and most days it ended up in a ponytail, bun or braid. So when the stylist told me this morning that I had more than enough hair to donate and still have a reasonable length I -- hesitantly -- told him to chop it off. I think it only took him two snips before he held my 11-inch ponytail in his hand. I was in a bit of shock and disbelief. I looked at myself in the mirror and it was much, much shorter than he told me it would be. I panicked. Then he picked up his scissors and kept cutting. Snipping here and there. Inside I was screaming, "put down the scissors. stop cutting." He didn't. But he sculpted my hair into a cute, longer bob. I've been running my fingers through my hair all night and it still feels weird. I kinda miss my 11 inches. But, it's just hair, right, it'll grow back.

Budding photographer

2009-08-14T16:57:00.002-06:00

She kinda reminded me of myself.
Provo, Utah

Ballerina

2009-08-10T22:46:00.001-06:00

Barlow Arts Conservatory
Lehi, Utah

Mmm. Cinnamon Rolls

2009-07-29T13:46:00.003-06:00

I'm not going to lie. I love to cook. Love it. I'm not saying that I'm good at it, but I love to create things in the kitchen. Today was Mark Johnston's birthday and I made him cinnamon rolls. I think they are pretty great -- maybe spent 3 minutes too long in the oven -- but nonetheless pretty yummy.

Big Sky Country

2009-07-29T10:56:00.002-06:00

Tour by Horseback
Utah

A NY Giant

2009-07-27T16:31:00.003-06:00

A NY Giant (former BYU football player) and little 'ole me.
*Photo by Mark Johnston

Vacation Bible School

2009-07-25T21:59:00.001-06:00

Signing the Cross
American Fork, Utah

Muscles

2009-07-22T14:52:00.001-06:00

Female bodybuilder
Orem, Utah

A Little Elbow Grease

2009-07-20T12:29:00.007-06:00

One of Jessica Mohler's first memories is holding a flashlight for her father as he worked underneath different cars in their garage. She would ask question after question asking what things were and what they did. Her father, a mechanic in Springville, would answer her explaining each step in detail.

Two years ago when her dad was teaching her how to change her car's brakes she announced that she was going to follow in his footsteps.

"I told him 'I'm going to try working at Jiffy Lube' as a joke," she said. "But it wasn't really a joke because I really liked working on cars."

She learned the basics while growing up around her brothers and boy cousins. That's all they talked about: cars, cars, cars. She had to know it to fit in and carry on conversations. But most of what she knows she's learned from just getting her hands dirty. She took one auto mechanic class while in high school at Provo High but the hardest thing they taught, she said, was how to change the oil. She took the class as a prerequisite for work release so that she could get experience as an auto mechanic.

Each day she would slip on her grease stained cover ups and pull her dark brown hair into a ponytail and go to work at the Jiffy Lube on Freedom Boulevard.

According to the Department of Labor in 1999 there were 12,000 female mechanics, which was up double from 1990. Mohler knows of a handful in Utah County alone.

For Mohler, being a mechanic is like a putting together a puzzle -- taking pieces apart and putting them back together as she figures out what makes it work. Every day there is a different puzzle she has to put together. One bay has a Chevrolet Silverado getting the tires rotated and in the other is a Toyota Prius getting an oil change. At each ring of the bell she hopes that a Corvette, her favorite car, comes through.

In her two years as a mechanic there have been a couple of times when a customer has refused to let her service their car. Only because she's a girl. When it happens it's a punch in her gut.

"Guys just trust guys with their cars," she said.

But she brushes off their comments and proves to them that she's not just a female. She's a mechanic. And a good one.

Mohler of Provo admitted that it's hard being a female in a male dominated industry but she doesn't let it get to her.

"I have to know more," she admits. "Girls just can't fake it like a guy can. But just because I'm a girl doesn't mean anything."

But she doesn't have to fake it. If someone is having a problem, she'll roll up her sleeves and show them how it's done. Sometimes they even call her over to reach into smaller spaces for tiny screws that their bigger hands can't get to.

"As far as this crew she's the most experienced and knowledgeable as mechanics get," said Nate Thacker, her manager who has worked with her since she started at the shop.

More often, though, she is requested by customers. They trust her and they respect her.

"I'm impressed that you can do that," Kelly Leavitt of Lehi told Mohler last week when she took her car to get an oil change. "I wish it were me."

Her hard work and ambition paid off when she was promoted to assistant manager last year. Mohler sometimes has to boss the guys around but she usually does it with a smile. There have been times when her employees refuse to listen to "a girl" and there is always another one of the guys to step in to straighten them up. Those employees never last very long at the shop, she said.

Sometimes the guys tease her but she knows it's all in jest. Actually she likes working with all guys (there's no drama) and she's earned all of their respect.

"They tone everything down because I'm a girl," she said.

"We don't want you to break a nail, Jessica," joked one of her coworkers about her French-manicured nails leftover from her wedding two weeks ago.

But she only smirked as she walked down the stairs to the lower bay where she drained the oil from the car above her.

"You would think that people would want a woman working on their car," she said. "They're cleaner."

She takes her job seriously as both a mechanic and a manager but she doesn't let her motherly instincts go either.

"Being the only girl, this is my job, too," she said handing Thacker a band aid for a cut on his leg. "To give them band aids when they are bleeding."

Last year she spent her whole pregnancy working in the shop. She stopped doing fuel injections and changing tires but her petite frame continued to change the oil, air filters and the state required emissions testing. In fact, she spent part of her labor at Jiffy Lube.

"I started having contractions," she said. "But I didn't want to leave. I had work to do."

On a couple of occasions Mohler has come to work and realized that her 1-year-old son has taken the tire gauge out of her waist belt to play with. It won't be long before he's holding the flashlight for his mother as she works below a car.

Basketball camp

2009-07-08T16:52:00.001-06:00

This photo reminded me of my little brother because he always used to play basketball from the floor. My mom and I teased him a lot about it, but, maybe, it's just the way that young boys play basketball.

Technical Difficulties

2009-07-06T16:04:00.002-06:00

I guess I've been having technical difficulties unbeknownst by me. If anyone can send me a screen shot of the wacky colors it of some of the photos it may be easier to fix since I can't see it on my end.

Thanks much.
ash

Darran Zenger

2009-06-29T09:20:00.002-06:00

At their neighborhood park in Eagle Mountain David Zenger, 10, sits on a swing whistling along to his mp3 player as his sister, Abby, 2, giggles uncontrollably as their father pushes her on the swing.

"Swing," she smiles. "More."

Her swing begins to slow down and her feet come closer and closer to the ground.

"Daaaaaddd! Daaaaadddd! Moooooorrrree."

She tries louder, but her father, Darran, doesn't hear.

"Daaaddd! Mooooore!"

Finally, David walks over to his father and taps him on the shoulder.

"Dad. Abby wants another push," he says in sign language.

David smiles and gives Abby a big push running underneath the swing and her giggles resume.

At the age of six he was diagnosed with Usher Syndrome, which is a genetic disorder that is characterized by deafness and progressive blindness. He began to lose his hearing at the age of 5 and it got worse until the age of 20. Now, at 34-years-old, he can't hear anything.

"He can't hear me do this," said David, standing right next to his father, screaming his name.

For a while he used hearing aids but felt that they didn't help much.

"I had no speech discrimination," Darran said. "Everything sounds like the teacher from peanuts. Wa-wa-wa-wa-waaa."

Part of Usher Syndrome is Retinitis Pigmentosa (RP), which causes night-blindness and a loss of peripheral vision through the progressive degeneration of the retina. His parents noticed the night blindness when he was still a baby. They would bring him a bottle at night and he couldn't see it, even when they put it right in front of his face. Over the years it has progressed to the point to which Darran only has 10-degrees of tunnel vision.

"It's hard because you don't know what your vision is going to do," he admits. "It changes and I adapt and then it changes and plateaus and then it changes again."

He remembers driving as a teenager and playing in a jazz band. Both things that he can't do anymore.

His wife Sharon believes that Darran's challenges are what make him a better father for their three children: David, 10, Mya, 8 and Abby 2.

He may not be able to do things that most other fathers can do like camping but he really tries to be a major part of their life.

"I love to just watch them enjoy life," smiled Darran, who took the children to the Pony Express carnival last week.

One of David's favorite things to do with his father is watch movies. Almost always Darran obliges, but Darran can't hear the movie and has a hard time seeing the screen.

"I do it because it's important for him to have a relationship with his dad," he said. "I've learned to do things for them and not what I want."

The children like to spend their summer days outside riding scooters and playing at the park and Darran is always close behind them. Many times Abby moves out of his line of sight as she runs from one side of the park to another. He'll look around in panic before he realizes she's on her way to the top of the slide.

"That's what stresses me out the most," he says. "I can't see her if she falls."

David and Mya understand that they need to help watch after Abby. They also provide a lot of support in the home where they know to pick up their toys off the ground so Darran doesn't trip and let him know when the phone or doorbell ring.

In August Darran brought a new member into the family: Archer. Archer is a seeing eye dog who was introduced to the Zengers to help guide Darran around on errands. Archer is his first guide dog and has been a godsend for the family.

"It's very helpful when we go to the grocery store," said Darran. "It allows my wife to take care of the kids and not have to worry about me."

With his eyes getting steadily worse Darran is taking other proactive measures like learning braille so that when his eyesight does go he will still be able to communicate with his friends and family.

But until that point he'll continue to take every day in stride, watching his family enjoy every moment.

"He's taught us all patience and has brought another language into our life and another culture to our family," said his wife Sharon.

For the Zenger family, this way of life is normal.

Darran may not be able to hear the children's laughter but he can see their smiles.

"He's the best dad in the world," smiled David.

Summer Swinging

2009-06-17T22:04:00.001-06:00

Abby
Eagle Mountain, Utah

Give A Kid A Backpack

2009-06-12T16:51:00.004-06:00

Today was spring cleaning day at the Daily Herald and I asked each department to save any school supplies (folders, binders, unused paper, pencils) so that I could give them to Give A Kid A Backpack, a humanitarian group that I've traveled with that gives school supplies to under privileged children in South and Central America. Close to the end of the day one of my coworkers came back and asked me where I wanted them and I told them they could just bring them to my desk. I was amazed when they brought back 5 boxes of binders. FIVE BOXES. I'm so excited. My trunk and backseat are completely full. The children are going to love this. Now I just need to figure out how to get them to Florida.../p>

3:19

2009-06-10T14:59:00.004-06:00

My First Marathon
By Ashley Franscell
Photo by Chris Detrick

My alarm went off at 4:09 a.m. Saturday morning. I was awake to hear it go off, in fact, I'd spent the whole night peaking out from under the sheets watching the hotel's clock turn from one minute to the next, hour after hour. At about 1 a.m., I stopped worrying about the marathon -- I stopped thinking about how the first person who ever ran the marathon, died -- and started thinking about what I was going to make for dinner and where to plant my basil.

I was trying to think of anything except for my first marathon.

I'd spent the past week tapering -- cutting back my mileage from 65 miles a week to about 35 -- and hoping that the day would never come. I was nervous. There is a lot that can happen in 26 miles and 385 yards. Other runners kept telling me, "You'll be fine," "You're trained for it," "I think you can run a 3:19." But until you've run the distance you have no idea of what to expect.

My hands shook as I forced myself to eat a banana. I usually don't eat anything before I run because it upsets my stomach but I knew I had about two and a half hours before the start and I knew that my body needed fuel.

My training partners and I packed everything in our bags -- extra shirt, water, gloves and a hat -- and loaded the elevator to head to the buses. There were dozens of buses line up on the street loading thousands of marathoners, half marathoners and relay teams. As soon as we found our seats on the bus I put my head down on the seat in front of me. I started to visualize the course and breathe deeply to relax. It's funny how long the bus ride to the top feels -- it kinda psychs you out that in a few minutes you're going to start a three hour (or more) run back.

As the bus slowed and came to a stop at the top of the Ogden Canyon my training partner and -- in my mind -- marathon expert said, "Remember to run your own race and forget how other people told you to run it." It was the best advice of everyone. And, for some odd reason, put me at ease.

We had an hour at the start before the race started. We stretched and jogged a bit to loosen up and, also, to stay warm. It was a little nerve wracking to have to wait so long for the race but by the time the gun went off we were all ready.

I wanted to run the first half of the race conservatively -- around 7:45 minutes a mile -- knowing that it was the hardest part of the course. And then see how I felt at 20 miles and, hopefully, kick it in the last 10 kilometers -- or 6.2 miles.

The first mile was downhill and I went through the mile a little faster than I wanted but I soon settled into a 7:25 minute per mile pace. It made me a little nervous because it was so much faster than I had planned but the pace felt fine so I just tried to stay there. I focused on each mile instead of thinking "I have 22 more miles to go," or "I have 15 miles left." That kept me fairly consistent through the first 13 miles, even with the rolling hills.

Every few miles there was a water stop and I made sure to drink a little at each stop. I knew that it would be better for me overall to take some water or Powerade in because if you get half way and you start to dehydrate there is no way to make that up. So even if it was a few sips, it was better than nothing.

The first 13 miles seemed to go by relatively quickly. I'd run that a few months before in a half marathon put on by Striders, an Ogden based racing circuit to gradually prepare runners for the marathon.

But in the half marathon, they left out THE hill. There is only one real hill on the Ogden course and I had been warned by several people about it. I tried to prepare myself mentally for the challenge of a half-mile long hill in at mile 14 by saying "To every uphill there is always a downhill," over and over. To be honest, it looked a lot worse from a half mile away than it was. As I started ascending the hill I really tried to relax my arms and push to the top. I passed several people on the way up, which gave me an extra bit of encouragement. I was still feeling pretty decent at this point and I was on pace to run a 3:15. Many people warned me that the deception of the hill is that it levels out at one point and then ascends again. Once I made it to the top I knew that it was basically downhill to the finish line.

I really don't remember the miles between the top of the hill and mile 18.5 when my friend jumped in next to me to keep me company the last 8 miles of the race. It had been a long 18 miles of very few spectators. So when he met me I was so elated to see him that I ran a 7:12 mile -- a little too fast. It was nice to have someone there. I didn't say much but he continually encouraged me and grabbed an extra water if I needed it.

The closer I came to the bottom of the canyon the more familiar faces I saw -- my husband and people from the running club. It's funny just how much "Great job, Ashley!" can keep you going several more steps. I could pick my husband's voice and encouragement out of a crowd of a hundred. I heard him at mile 23 say, "Good job, Ashley. How do you feel?" He says that I shot him a horrible look that said "How do you think I feel at mile 23?" I don't remember the "look" just the thumbs up that I gave him.

I had expected to hit the wall -- when your glycogen stores are depleted and you have an overwhelming sense of fatigue -- at mile 20. It's commonly said that there are two halves to a marathon, the first 20 and the last 6. For me, it was the first 24 miles and the last 2.2. As soon as we left the canyon and were spit out onto a footpath with a few rolling hills -- small bumps in the path that felt like monstrous hills -- I hit the wall. The hardest part was that there was really no warning. I was feeling great and then all of a sudden my legs felt like they just couldn't take one more step. I took a GU to see if it would help but I think at that point it was just too late. My legs had already run out of fuel.

I was lucky enough to have great friends to encourage me those last 2 miles.

"Come on, Ashley! You're doing great."

"Dig deep. There is only a few more miles."

It was really nice to hear, especially when my head was saying just the opposite. Even the spectators on the side of the footpath would encourage me after they heard my name.

My pace slowed by a minute but I felt as if I wasn't even moving and my legs felt like they were weights. I wanted to stop but I knew it wasn't smart to completely stop because my legs would cramp up making it even harder to start again. So I slowed to a brisk walk. For four steps. As backwards as it seems, I thought to myself, "the quicker you get to the end, the sooner the pain goes away." So I started running again.

"Good job, Ashley. You're almost there. One more mile."

As I turned on to Grant Avenue in downtown Ogden and saw all the crowds of people my pace got a bit faster. I knew the finish line was close, but I couldn't see it. I repeated my mantra over and over to myself, "Every step is a step closer. Every step is a step closer." Before long, the banner of the finish line came into view. But it never seemed to be getting any closer. At that point I was just taking it block by block. The last half mile seemed to go by in slow motion. My mind was racing and wanting to get there as fast as possible but my legs couldn't keep up.

When I finally reached the shoot to the finish line the clock ticked by 3:19:10, 3:19:11, 3:19:12.

I finished my first marathon in 3:19:13. An overwhelming sense of relief -- and complete shock -- came over me. I hadn't died and I had qualified for the Boston Marathon in my very first marathon. But more so, I was just glad to be not running.

I found my husband and friends standing outside of the runner's area. They congratulated me and then one of them asked, "So, are you going to go to Boston?"

I told her with a smile that I'd think about it. That I needed a couple hours after my first one to decide whether I really wanted to do another. Twenty-six miles is a long, long way.

First of the Season

2009-05-31T22:45:00.001-06:00

Neko Case
Red Butte Garden Concert
Salt Lake City, Utah