I never knew how mental racing was.

Running down the Provo Canyon river trail on Saturday, while competing in my first half marathon, every time another runner passed me I would think, "that's it, everyone is in front of me and I'm now in last place." My feet ached, my calves burned, and due to a technical mix up before the race I was running without my usual GPS watch that tracked my time, distance, and pace. Without my watch, and with no mile markers posted, I had no idea where I was on course, or how I was doing in regards to time. This stretch of the race was very discouraging. I didn't expect to feel so alone and so lost.

As is the case much of the time in my life, my music was my cocoon of comfort to keep my mind focused on the positive and distracted from the negative. Each time that I would take out my earbuds to adjust their position the comfortable tones would be replaced by the sounds of footsteps of the other runners approaching from behind.

I'm most entirely at fault for arriving in such a lonely situation. The race began high up the mountains above the Sundance resort. Waiting in the crowd of over 700 runners at the starting line I was accompanied by Amber and our friends Eric and Betsy Billman. We all followed Amber, the experienced racer, who jockeyed through the masses to get as close to the starting line as possible. When the clock started Amber got started quickly, weaving around anyone that kept her from keeping her desired pace.

Taking Amber's lead, I also started quickly. We stayed together for a few minutes until I felt cramped and split a couple of runners. I heard Amber yell, "see you later," and I was off - letting the momentum of the hill pull me down the coarse. Once I reached the more level area of Provo Canyon the jell-o feeling in my legs told me that I probably took the first five miles too fast.

Next came the drudgery of Provo Canyon and the river trail. There were a few times where I honestly felt like stopping because the pain in my calves was so bad. And, although I paused briefly a few times to stretch against a tree I continued on, trotting closer to the finish line.

My hopes brightened when I finally emerged from the canyon, although the pain in my legs was still ever present. As I began heading south towards the Riverwoods shopping center I noticed a person with a camera waving frantically at me. She even took a few pictures in my direction. I didn't think there was anyone behind me, so I first thought the friendly photographer had me confused for someone else. But, as I got closer I realized I was the mislead one. The happy person was Amber's sister Jen.

At this point, I figured the finish couldn't be that far off. We came to a stoplight and then cut into a commercial development. The spectators along the trail became more frequent as we made the last turn before the chute. While entering the final stretch I heard a, "yeah, Scott!" from my sister Julia who was positioned on a grassy knoll with a video camera.

My pace increased a bit with the thought of almost being done. But, it wasn't until I saw the clock that I threw all my energies into a last gasp sprint. Before the race, my goal was to complete the 13.1-mile course in one hour and 45 minutes. When I saw 1:44 on the clock - the seconds were obstructed from view - I knew I still had a chance to make it across the finish line in time. With 14 seconds to spare I finished my first endurance race.

In her second race in as many months, Amber improved upon Top Of Utah Half Marathon time by three minutes, coming in at 1:50:33.

Before jumping into the details of the second day of our trip I should mention that Florence, aka Masma, was cremated, much like her husband Jim, aka Paspa, when he passed on nearly ten years ago. Seeing her remains as a mass of ashes really brought meaning to the scripture, "for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return."

All of the events of this day include Masma being with us.

The second day of our road-trip of rememberance began with a trip out to picturesque Donner Lake, where our Truckee based group of McAllister men gathered to remember Florence. Nate led us to a quiet spot close to the eastern shore of the lake. Memories and laughs were shared. The feeling was very light and enjoyable.

Nate remembered Masma's lemonade, and I talked about Masma's dedication to keeping her mind sharp - always completing the daily crossword in the newspaper. Brent offered a prayer while uncle Peter led us all in a buddhist chant.

The chant that Peter taught us said, "Nam myoho renge kyo." I don't remember what each word meant, but I remember that he mentioned that it had something to do with devotion.

After snapping some pictures and exchanging farewells, we let Nate get back to his workday while the rest of us descended the western slopes of the Sierras, on our way to the coast. We didn't take the most direct route to our destination. While passing through Sacramento we stopped off to see the temple that was built since the days I served there as a missionary.

Once we crossed the Bay Bridge into San Francisco we exited the Interstate and drove along the Embarcadero to see the city and the piers along the bay. We made our way through the north side of the city, up by the Golden Gate Bridge, and latched onto scenic Highway 1. This is a stretch of road that hugs the Pacific coast, and is considered one of the most beautiful drives in the world.

We started in Pacifica, just outside of San Francisco, and made our way south toward Pigeon Point. The fog overtook the Golden Gate bridge and covered our drive down the coast. It wasn't until we came to Pigeon Point, where we could see our destination at Franklin Point, that the sun brooke through. The timing was perfect as the sun lit the beach where we were heading and little else.

Bill and Peter were waiting for us at the head of the trail that led out to the point. Bill's older son Joe pulled up moments after our arrival. We trekked through the sand and dune grass out to the point where we had laid Paspa's ashes nearly a decade earlier. We shared a similar moment as that morning in Truckee with prayer and chanting before Peter - the youngest, and probably most nimble of the three brothers - scampered out onto the farthest rock point and laid his mother's ashes to rest in the sea.

Everything happened so quickly. Just over a week ago, while spending the morning at home with a fever-laden baby, I received a call from my mother. She informed me that my paternal grandmother, known to us as Masma, was not doing well and was only expected to live another 24 hours at the most. That was a week ago Tuesday.

Looking at the big picture, this shouldn't have come with much surprise. Masma was 92, and she had lived a life that was full and memorable. She was moved from a facility near her home in the San Francisco Bay Area to a very comfortable place in Provo, Utah six months ago. Reasons for the move were two-fold: she had a large concentration of grandchildren in the area, and the cost of living was considerably lower.

We enjoyed having her more accessible in Utah, and I would like to think that she enjoyed the attention she received from the extended generations of posterity that came to visit her.

By Tuesday night I was driving south to Utah county to meet with my mom and sister Julia, who were sitting with a mostly unconscious Masma. We sat and reminisced late into the evening before my dad arrived from the airport at about 11pm.

I ended up sitting next to my dad, at Masma's bedside for the rest of the night. Dad and I talked quietly at times, but mostly sat in silent thought. We noticed her breaths grow increasingly farther apart, and at 2am I watched the life drain from her face as she passed peacefully into the next life.

Now, a week later, I find myself sitting in a motel in Truckee, California. My dad and I departed from my sister Jenna's place in Taylorsville this morning and picked up my brother Brent at the Reno Airport this afternoon. Our journey across Nevada was highlighted by an audio book by T. Boone Pickens and the occasional Cat equipment sighting. We met up with my dad's brothers Bill and Pete and connected with Bill's son Nate, who lives in Truckee, just before he left for work at the Drunken Monkey.

Dad, Brent, Bill, Pete, and I drove down to Lake Tahoe from Truckee and explored the area surrounding the lake before skipping rocks off of its banks. We finished the night by enjoying some decadent sushi rolls at the Drunken Monkey with Nate as our server.

Among the major highlights of the last quarter is Ashley's third birthday. We celebrated by taking her to a local establishment called the Cache Valley Fun Park. This facility has an enormous play-land area. Large enough for myself to climb around the tubes and shoot down the slides. I didn't even get stuck once. Although, my knees were grateful when it was time to grab some chicken stars and head home for cake.

In the days leading up to Ashley's birthday Andrew embarked on the whole new world of solid foods. As you would expect from our posterity, Andrew likes food. He embraced the solid stuff from the first slurp, and is still eating like a horse.

I feel fortunate to still be employed as the economy is taking it's toll at Utah State University. Work started getting weird when the university issued a mandatory week-long furlough for all employees during spring break. After getting over the idea that I was getting a cut in my salary for the year, I was grateful that USU gave us the time off for the missing compensation. We decided to take full advantage of the week together as a family.

Our main activity was a day trip to the exotic land of Ogden, Utah. We descending from Cache Valley to visit the Treehouse Children's Museum on tip from a friend at work. Ashley loved the place. We arrived early in the day and stayed to well into the afternoon. Ashley was on the young end of many of the activities and exhibits, but she still enjoyed herself. And, I see us going back for many years to come.

A price we pay for living in the paradise that is Logan is the occasional spring snow storm, of which we've had a few this year. Spring break, the first week of March, actually opened with a hefty snowfall. There was enough fresh powder to build a snow princess in the backyard. Today was actually the first time that our entire yard was vacant of snow this year. It was a nice day.

Another nice day was a few Saturdays back when we met the rest of the McAllister cousins in Salt Lake for a free Real Salt Lake soccer game. The team opened up the stadium and invited the public to watch the final preseason match between RSL and a second division side. The weather cooperated perfectly, so that our three families - mine, Jenna's and Julia's - combined to nearly take over a section of the soccer stadium.

On a somber note, we enjoyed gathering relatives on Amber's side of the family as we honored the life of her aunt Mary who passed away this last month. Mary always liked to have fun, and thoroughly enjoyed life. She will be missed, but we know she is much more comfortable without having to deal with the pains of mortality any longer.

That's about it from us. Pictures of the described events will follow soon in shutterfly. As always, if you don't receive our shutterfly emails and you would like to please let us know and we'll get you on the list.

Somewhere between between opening presents, and learning the valuable lesson of present precedence (more on that later), and kicking back for a lazy Christmas day I decided I needed a haircut. Eager to facilitate this wish, in fact a little too eager, Amber offered to pull out the clippers and recreate the short-haired look of last summer. For the most part I enjoyed the look, but especially the feel, so I agreed to such a style.

In our haste to remove the fro we got our fractions a little mixed up. We knew that in August we used a guard that had an 8 on it. Amber was almost certain that it was the 1/8" guard. I wasn't positive, but I also didn't object.

As the hair began to gather on the the bathroom floor we both thought it would be funny to leave a stripe of curly hair on the top of my head. So proud of our creation, we called up Ambers parents on Skype get their feedback on my new look.

They were less than impressed.

Ashley, on the other hand, thought my new due was a riot. She would look at me, point, and laugh while exclaiming, 'Daddy's got a funny haircut!'

Even after cleaning off the mohawk Ashley still looks at me and laughs, simply saying, 'Daddy's got a funny haircut.'

So, now we know to use the 3/8" guard when cutting my hair, not the 1/8". In the mean time I'm getting reacquainted with my collection of hats. Not necessarily because I'm ashamed of the look, but that Cache Valley wind on my scalp is COLD!

We interrupt our originally scheduled series of backlogged blog posts to bring you this special news bulletin: I got a haircut.

No, really. On Thursday night Amber and I were joking around about buzzing my head - something I hadn't had done since I was around eight years old. I remember it was at Grandma and Grandpa Verhaaren's house one summer, but that's another story. So, after flirting with the idea of becoming much more aerodynamic I heard my mouth release the words, "Yeah, let's shave it off." With that, it only took a few minutes under the sound of buzzing clippers and my looping locks lay lifeless on the linoleum of our bathroom floor. This is possibly the shortest I have ever worn my hair, excluding the previously mentioned summer.

It was Amber's third try at cutting my hair in our entire marriage, the last time happening years ago resulted in an emergency trip to the campus barber first thing the next morning. I'm biased, but I think this is her best cutting job yet. Which brings up a point that I haven't been making clear to those I've told this story to in person. The purpose of the haircut was to go this short. I wanted it. There was not mistake on the length, although most of my co-workers think otherwise.

See for yourself, and let me know what you think.

We tried something new this week. Even though we have seen the frisbee golf course that surrounds Amber's office, we had not given the skillful sport a try. To be honest, the 4-foot polls with chain link baskets were just another piece of the scenery. That is until I joined the youth from our church for activity at the course a few weeks back. After tossing the disc around for a quick nine holes I knew it was something we could do as a family - even with Amber pregnant.

The following week we headed up to campus where the course weaves through various dorm buildings at the university. With our USU ID cards we were able to check out proper saucers, and we set out to our first hole. Ashley was ecstatic to be holding a pink disc. I built on my experience from the previous week with the youth making conservative tosses that were safe and practical. Amber, on the other hand, went for distance on her first try. The idea was good, although she ultimately ended up in a tree before getting to the basket. No big deal, these things happen. And, I was able to shoot it down with only a few (dozen) throws of my own disc.

The second hole was even more fun than the first as we didn't get completely stuck in any local vegetation - although we came close to whacking a dorm room window...twice. The evening was progressing into an enjoyable one until the sidewalk reached up and hooked Ashley's feet out from under her. She came crashing down to the concrete with a smack. More shaken up than actually hurt, Ashley was done with frisbee golf - which meant so were we. Our game was postponed on account of injury. Amber and I will have to return soon to finish up the last six holes.

The greatest time of year brings about one of my most favorite things to do - grill. Amber and I love food, so I like to try new things when ever it's my turn to do dinner. This happens more often in the summer because of my love for grilling. Our favorite meal that we carbonize over open flame is drumsticks, and this past week I took the plunge and made my own barbecue sauce. Upon first taste I wasn't sure it was a success. The taste wasn't what I expected, and thus was a little disappointed. But, I still went forward with the plan to use this homemade sauce on the meat. I'm glad I did. As the creator, I'm probably biased, but the sauce quickly turned into one of my favorite eating accessories.

As mentioned in our previous entry regarding the 5K in which our family ran back in May, Amber continues to progress through pregnancy. Every day she amazes me with her strength. I think we're both a little apprehensive at the prospect of caring for two children. The best word of encouragement that I've heard is that I shouldn't worry because with two, Amber and I can still play man-to-man, errr child-to-child. When ever we go to three children (no, we're not announcing anything) we have to switch to a zone defense, and that's a bit more tricky.

With the warmer weather comes outside chores. We were able to get our garden in before the days got too warm. And, we even have a yard! The grass has finally grown in enough to mow - which we've done three or four times. I think we can now properly call the area surrounding our house a lawn, and it's looking pretty good.

Personality continues to show in Ashley. With each new day she looks and acts less like a baby and more like a child. The miracle of parenting is truly awe-inspiring.

A couple of weeks ago our family participated in a historic event. As a family, each of us ran in our first 5 kilometer race. I was the motor to Ashley's race day chariot, while Amber kept us going at a respectable pace.

In the end, we all crossed the finish line at the same time (31:21). However, the photo clearly reveals that Amber beat the stroller by a knee. So, in my first race I can say that I was beaten by my pregnant wife and two year old daughter - although we all got the same time.

If something sounds odd from that statement, it's because that we're announcing the pending arrival of another child. We found out this morning that Ashley will have a little brother some time in September.

Snow was falling in large clumps by the time I pulled into the garage on Christmas Eve. Normally I would have felt bad for shopping on the last possible day, but with my recent work schedule I was lucky to get out and shop at all. Plus, I was getting home so that Amber could have the car to head out one last time herself, so I didn't feel too bad.

By the time Amber returned from her excursion into the masses the flakes had accumulated a few inches, softening the world with a wintery glow. We prepared a ham, cheesy potatoes, and green bean casserole for our Christmas Eve feast. And, although we missed being close to family, we reveled in the quiet simplicity of being at home.

The remainder of the evening was spent watching a short film entitled, 'The Other Wise Man,' and explaining to Ashley what was going to happen in the morning. I think we made progress, as we could hear her excitedly repeat, "Santa's coming", before falling asleep in her crib.

We were awakened by Ashley talking happily, and although it would make a great story to say that she was still saying, "Santa's coming", we're pretty sure it wasn't that. Although, we're not exactly sure what she was saying.

We started with stockings, with the best part seeing the understanding that would come into Ashley's eyes when she realized that the presents inside the sock were for her. Next came breakfast, and then our gifts to Jesus.

Watching our child's reactions was the most fun I've had on Christmas, possibly ever. Ashley was into the whole process. It didn't matter who the present was for, she was there to assist in the tearing of paper or picking off of bows. Watching her was worth every bit of preparation and work that went into the Holiday.

Following the presents we made use of the sled that Ashley got me, the snow clothes that Ashley received, and the newly fallen snow outside to give Ashley her first real experience playing in the snow. There is a slight incline in our backyard that provided an ideal sled hill for the first-timer. She laughed with glee as Amber and I pulled her around on the sled.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing, and was so peaceful. Ashley spent the afternoon stockpiling all the bows she could find; and then she ran around the house carrying as many bows as would fit in her arms.

Amber and I enjoyed the ensuing week off of work, as the university was closed between Christmas and New Years.

The beginning moments of 2008 were spent with our good friends the Billmans. Their son Sam was born on the last day of 2005 - which makes him a little more than a month older than Ashley. We partied for Sam's birthday in the afternoon. Then after the kids went to bed we played games until just before midnight, when we tuned in to watch the ball drop in Times Square.

Our festive celebrations came to an end this weekend as we travelled down to the Bagby homestead in Orem to exchange gifts amongst Ambers siblings and parents. An added bonus to the weekend was having the privilege of sharing in the joy of Amber's longtime friend April getting sealed to her longtime sweetheart Clint. It's always fun to see two people come together to start a new family, especially when those two are as happy as April and Clint.

Family is the string that ties us all together, and Christmas is one of those times where the string is tightened to pull us all that much closer together.