Thursday, October 9, 7:40 a.m.

In the morning fog, with the glimmer of dew on the grass from the early sun, Ben Albright stretches his legs. Clad in a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants, Albright starts out on a cool morning jog to the Lied Recreation Center to start his day.

After about twenty minutes of running, he arrives at the rec and begins his workout routine.

A scar runs from the middle of Albright’s forearm up to his wrist just short of his palm — an injury incurred by wrestling with a buddy while tailgating at this season’s second home football game.

“I was screwing around with a buddy at a tailgate in [Lot] G-2,” he says. “He tackled me to the ground, I went to brace myself and [my arm] snapped.”

He lifts weights with that forearm in an effort to regain the arm’s strength. After about an hour, he’s exhausted. Damp with sweat, Albright runs back to his apartment on Lynn Avenue to shower.

“Running and working out is a great stress reliever for me,” he says. “It also helps me to clear my mind … so I can go back to my apartment and focus on other things, like homework.”

10:26 a.m.

Albright arrives at the GSB office and is greeted by Mary McBirnie, GSB office secretary.

“I’ve got some bills for you to sign and stamp,” she says, handing him a stack of papers.

“Yay, bills,” Albright says with a smirk. “I get bills at my apartment and bills here. Everywhere I go, there’s bills.”

McBirnie smiles.

“I know what you mean,” she replies.

Albright unlocks his office door and tosses the bills on his desk, littered with papers, yellow sticky-note reminders and a white teddy bear — a memento from the hospital after the tailgating incident.

After taking care of the bills, he gives them back to McBirnie for filing, then returns to his office to read the Daily.

“I’ve got to see what it is people are saying about GSB today,” Albright says, scanning the headlines, feet propped on his desk.

“People are always watching you, and sometimes it’s good, but sometimes it’s bad. It’s good to get constructive feedback so we can see what it is students want us to do for them, but at the same time, it can get annoying.”

12:16 p.m.

Albright returns to the GSB office after class for a meeting with the heads of the Veishea entertainment committee about bringing a comedian to Iowa State for Veishea 2004.

A representative hands Albright a list of comedians under consideration — including the cost to bring each to campus.

Looking over the list, Albright’s eyes widen at the price of one comedian.

He hands the sheet to GSB President Mike Banasiak.

“Look at that price tag,” Albright says, pointing at the list.

Albright chews his lower lip, looking at the figures and compares the prices to the Veishea budget.

The committee members discuss what they plan to do. Albright rubs his forehead, deep in thought.

12:33 p.m.

Albright walks to Curtiss Hall to talk with Helen Olson, adviser for agriculture education and studies. He doesn’t plan to graduate this May.

“I don’t want to,” he explains. “I’ve been thinking about his for about six months now, and I found some different advantages to not graduating.

“I want to get a [agriculture] sales internship this summer, because I have had research and production, but no sales experience. I want to get a feel for sales first, to see what it’s like, before I start looking for a full-time job.”

Albright and Olson discuss the credits and requirements Albright has fulfilled so far in his agriculture studies major, and the number of credits he has left in order to graduate.

“Next fall, once my GSB term is over, it will be nice not having to go into the office every day and have some time to myself and time I can spend focusing on classes,” he says to Olson.

She nods in agreement.

“I hardly have anytime to hang out with my friends, but I’m a pretty independent person, so it doesn’t bother me much,” Albright says.

“It’s definitely something I’d like to do more of, but at the same time I knew what the time commitment was going to be.

“I was willing to give my personal time to do productive things for students. I don’t think people really realize the sacrifices people make to be on GSB.”

1:03 p.m.

Albright walks to his apartment to grab some lunch and change before his next class at the Agriculture 450 farm.

In his bedroom, piles of dirty laundry emerge from a closet, and a stack of old copies of “Playboy” peek from beneath the bed.

Albright changes into a John Deere T-shirt and a pair of dirt-stained jeans — a drastically different look from Albright in a business suit and tie on a campaign poster stuck to his bedroom wall.

He heads to the kitchen, walking past a hole punched into the wall — a result of a fight with an ex-girlfriend last spring.

“That was an interesting night,” he says. “We had an argument, and that’s why we’re no longer together.”

“It was too hard campaigning, getting settled into the position and dating her at the same time. I kind of overextended myself last spring, and she was one of the things in my life I had to cut out.”

After grabbing a sandwich, Albright heads out to the farm.

3:26 p.m.

Albright wipes the sweat from his brow and looks out across the field of golden cornstalks. The pungent smell of manure hangs in the air from an adjacent farm as Albright and two classmates pile out of a dusty Jeep.

They trudge through the rows of corn to gather moisture samples of the field for class. The sun has dried out the golden stalks, and they crunch under Albright’s feet as he makes his way further into the field.

He tears several ears of corn from their stalks and walks back to the Jeep. Shucking the husks from the corn, Albright wrings out the kernels into a black jug and looks at the container’s digital readout that displays the corn’s moisture level. He cups his hand over the digital indicator to shield it from the glare of the sun.

“14.9, I think that’s our highest one yet,” he announces.

He dumps out the kernels, and the young men pile back into the Jeep. It’s off to another field for testing.

After class, Albright heads home to finish homework and prepare for another day.

“[Being vice president], it’s a lot like having a real job and going to class at the same time,” he says. “You don’t have a lot of free time.

Yeah, I could be at the bars right now, but then you think about the good things about the job, like helping your peers, and it’s worth it. Sometimes you feel like you can make a difference.”