MY BACK ACHES. I’m sweating. My bladder is sending out distress signals. I’ve been going full throttle for three hours, and still have five hours to go, but I can’t slow down. Not when the stakes are so high: I’m representing my country among a crowd of the best competitors on earth, sandwiched between teams from Turkey and Bulgaria.
I am competing in the equivalent of an Ironman triathlon for assembling little cardboard pieces. No, seriously. I’m part of Team USA at the World Jigsaw Puzzle Championship.
A few months ago, I didn’t know such a competition existed. But it does, and these people are serious. Several hundred have gathered in a small city in Spain after years of training.
I’ve joined them not because I’m particularly brilliant at jigsaw puzzles but because I’m a true believer. I believe puzzles—jigsaws, as well as crosswords, sudokus, Rubik’s Cubes, and all the other genres—aren’t just time-wasting hobbies. I believe puzzles can make us better thinkers and better people—maybe even help save the world. This tournament is a crucial part of my quest, despite the risk of a public whomping.
Team USA consists of me, my wife, and two of our teenage sons. We are at one of dozens of tables inside a hot, bubble-shaped dome. We’ve practiced for a month, but nothing like the jigsaw masters, who have trained several hours a day for years.
A few hours earlier, a man in a blazer read out the instructions into a microphone: We had eight hours to complete four large puzzles. Tres, dos, uno … puzzle!
We grabbed one of the boxes on our table—the African
