An Open Letter Regarding Contrasting Endurance Cultures - Running, Triathlon, OCR, etc.

The context for this post: all endurance athletes (runners, swimmers, cyclists, climbers, triathletes, obstacle course racers, marathoners, track athletes, ultra runners, trail runners, road runners, etc.) have a similar, yet slightly different culture. We all have distinct jargon (terms that refer to idiosyncrasies of our sport, even words that are different that mean the same thing). This past Sunday, I ran the Santa Monica Classic 10k, and for the first time in a local road race, pushed my daughter in a jogging stroller. I've run a very small 5k in Brooklyn pushing my daughter, and I've done tons of miles (primarily when she was about 8 months old until she was about 18 months old) with her in training. But this past Sunday was different. As I worked my way into the starting corral (immediately after the 5k race was sent off and the 10k runners loaded in), one girl took notable exception to my being near her with a jogging stroller. This is an Open Letter to her, that I hope stimulates some dialog between our contrasting (and at times conflicting) cultures. This is not to say that one is right and the other is wrong, but to acknowledge that each culture should seek to understand those that share our endurance lifestyle, and understand that when we cross-polinate, and try other disciplines, it may not be what we've grown accustomed to...

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Dear Anonymous Triathlete Girl,

I'm the dad pushing a stroller in the corral that you threw a tantrum at last weekend. I am that completely random stranger who responded by asking you what your race goal was (to which you responded "42-minutes" which I can remember clear-as-day because it's Jackie Robinson's number, and was about the time I thought I would run that day) and when I then offered to pace you to that goal whilst pushing 55-lbs of toddler and wheeled machine of death you subsequently ignored me, not even offering a halfway polite "no thank you", nor even eye contact from that point forward. Not only did you non-respond, but you demonstratively turned your back to me because I wasn't doing exactly what you wanted me to do. I am still not sure whether your female and male companions were mortified by your behavior, or if they too were giving me the "sharks with friggin' lasers on their heads" stare for being the stroller-guy sandwiched up in the front 250 people in a 3,000 person race. I sensed your race nerves and that the event was important to you, so I chose not to say something awful back to you. I gave you a temporary pass.

Here's the thing: most stand alone road races allow runners with strollers to compete (my favorite race of this sort is the Redondo Super Bowl 10k, that actually has a separate stroller race/division). I had as much right to be there in that corral as you did. Our crew specifically sought out a family-friendly, strollers-allowed race to run with our young children, and some of us wanted to do that as fast as we possibly could. Athletes are asked to "self-seed" at a race like that (whereas 10k plus person races generally have pace-per-mile signs posted to aid in this self-seeding), and as someone who ended up finishing 65th overall, I had more people in front of me than there needed to be (it took me a full 11-seconds to cross the starting line). I was very conscious about my race-lines, not running over feet or clipping heels. Let me tell ya, it was one of the most difficult 10k's of my life, having to zigzag while pushing my 2.5-year-old daughter was rough. Going up that 2-3% grade to get to the the turn-around on San Vicente built a new room in my pain cave. My daughter tossed her green racing car out of the stroller twice and trying to pick up something while pushing 55-lbs upgrade/uphill while at a race intensity pace, well, damn, you should try it sometime. It's awful. But I'm not asking for your sympathy. I enjoy the hurt locker, quite a bit.

I do get it, nobody likes being passed, nor beat by any parent pushing a stroller. At that very same race, many years ago, I ran 36:13 (my personal best) and had a dad pushing a stroller run 35:30-ish in front of me. Again, a little over a year ago, I was 4th overall at a 5k pushing my daughter in a stroller and was soundly beat by a guy pushing twin 3-year-olds in a double-stroller. No hard feelings either time, just mad props to those badass dads setting a pretty stellar example to kids who won't quite understand why that's so awesome, maybe ever (or until they have children of their own and try to run a fast race while pushing them). At the very least, I take precious little joy in my finishing position. I'm an effort conscious and time-minded athlete. If I run a time I'm capable of and if I worked hard for it, that's satisfying to me. That doesn't mean I won't push myself for position during a race, I mean, what's the point in dropping some coin unless we can push ourselves to be the best we can be with-and-against other competition. I respect my competition. Always. I let my legs, heart, and toughness do the talking for me. I never tell anyone in the corral they shouldn't be near nor in front of me. Nor should you. Nor should anyone.

I'm hoping that somehow this makes it's way to you, and you either find a way to be polite to others planning to suffer alongside you, or maybe select events that don't allow strollers (the LA Marathon, and pretty much ANY triathlon). But, I suggest that you treat someone pushing a stroller with a bit more respect, as the Boston Marathon (a race you've publicly declared you'll run) has a guy who pushes a huge stroller (well, it's more of a strolling-wheelchair) and he also does the Kona Ironman (towing his son in a friggin' BOAT), in fact, he's one of my personal heroes and inspiration to millions. I passed this father-son duo at the Boston Marathon years ago, and I cheered for him and shook his hand. His son cheered for me. It gave me a ton more juice to finish a tough Boston that year. 

Dick and Rick Hoyt aka TEAM HOYT at Boston

In closing, I sincerely congratulate you for putting the training in, showing up on race day and running your PR in the 10k. I didn't displace you in your division, nor did my 2.5-year-old daughter (although, when she's about 14, watch out in the female overall division at local events). If we ever bump into each other at another race or local group run, I'll buy ya a beer (or your favorite beverage) to show ya there's really no hard feelings. I wish you luck in your upcoming races in 2017 and beyond. I hope you get into Boston and crush it. Give Rick and Dick Hoyt a high five from me...

With Respect,
Jimmy Dean Freeman

Coyote Running Founder and Head Coach

Road/Track/Trail Runner w/300+ Races of Experience

Failure, Attitude & Adjusting to Adversity - San Diego 100-mile 2013, Carnage 1 & 2 Aid Station Recap

Objects in photo are more overheated than they appear.

"Good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgment."
-Mark Twain

I am a failure.

I will say that again, for emphasis, then ask you to think about the San Diego 100 in relationship to it.

I, Jimmy Freeman, am a failure.  I have failed as a coach, I've failed as pacer/crew, and I failed as an Aid Station Captain.  In some cases, I even failed to be a good friend (to many).

*pregnant pause*

Notice this: the moment I say (well, in this case write/type) the word failure, it brings up all sorts of thoughts and emotions for you.  It's a super-charged word (especially in our society).  You'll immediately feel a tendency to debate me ("No Jimmy, you are wrong, I have many reasons to prove you are indeed a success in these areas and here's why...") and some of you may agree with me wholeheartedly (which begs the question, why are you even reading this blog? Then again, maybe you heard through the grapevine that I was acknowledging my failure as a human and you wanted some emotional validation).

Consider that I don't sustain a normal relationship to the word/experience of failure.  Me and failure are way outside-the-box.  I love to fail.  Failing means I'm challenging myself to the point that failure is a possibility.  Many people avoid failure, and in turn fail to have epic life experiences because they keep themselves in a very tight box in life, relationships and athletic endeavors.  So, those who fail (to complete a goal) have my deepest respect.

Now for what I intended to say.  Know that I say the following while dealing with considerable concern (see: fear) for what may prove to be an unpopular opinion, as I'm taking aim at some general commentary I have heard for the last 2 days.

San Diego 100 2013 will be long remembered for many, many reasons.  First and foremost, it was one of the lowest finishing rates in years.  At a race that typically sees 65-70%+ finish, more than half DNF'd (178-starters, 96 DNF's 54%, 82 finishers 46%).  Some may suggest "heat caused the high number of DNF's" and to each of them I would say bluntly and directly, "negative, dear friend, the heat had little to do with it".  Think of it like this: if I showed up to a 100-mile race in the snow without a jacket, DNF'd from hypothermia, and cited the cold as the reason I didn't finish, while that would be an accurate statement, it would fail to reflect the full scope of what happened. A great many people failed yesterday, not because they weren't fit enough, not because they came from cold areas of the country or didn't heat train enough, and most certainly not because of the record heat for that race.

Life, and especially running 100-mile races, is all about adjusting to adversity. We can rarely anticipate what unique challenges life will throw our way, and how successful we are is relative not to the specific challenges we face, but how we face those challenges.

As the Aid Captain of the hottest section of the course in it's hottest year (on record) for this race, I saw people in all stages of disarray, dealing with those challenges in many different ways.  As I examine the splits, and as I recall the many conversations with more than 50-athletes either 31 or 36 miles into that race, I was surprised to learn more than half the people in the race were drinking less fluid than I'd drink on a 60-degree day in the mountains, replacing less electrolytes than I might in a cold 30-degree mountain race, and most certainly not getting enough calories for the body functions to perform at an optimal level.  Every mistake in a 100-miler, whether from lack of experience or pure strategic/tactical error (for example, having a great hydration/calorie/electrolyte strategy and failing to follow it), each of those mistakes is exacerbated by extreme distance and tough conditions.  I saw very few adjustments being made to pacing plans and fluid/electrolyte/calorie strategies until much of the damage had been done.  The heat was unusual, but not unprecedented for the area, it was just coincidental that it happened the exact day of the race.

Another major aspect of success (in life and racing) is attitude.  What was common among San Diego 100-mile finishers was an unflappable attitude. While some were lamenting the heat, most of the 80-ish people who crossed the finish line made mid-race adjustments, put their heads down and did the work.  I didn't hear a single complaint from a finisher about the heat.  "Everyone had to race in the same conditions" was about the closest I got to an acknowledgement of those conditions from a finisher (and I talked to dozens of finishers).

Not everyone who DNF'd "did something horribly wrong" and likewise not a single person who finished "did everything right", so don't misinterpret what I'm saying here.  100-mile mountain running is at best, a messy activity filled with small and large (and sometimes horrifically ugly) mistakes, falling apart and putting ourselves back together (as quick as possible).  Heat, altitude, mountains, distance are all separate challenges to be respected, equally, if one wants to be successful in this category of extreme endurance sports.  Also, another little disclaimer below about how you should interpret my commentary here (thanks to Robert Harris for an awesome reminder of one of my favorite quotes)...

"It is not the [aid captain] who counts; not the [coach] who points out how the strong [runner] stumbles, or where the [100 miler] could have [run it] better. The credit belongs to the [runner] who is actually in the [race], whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to [finish the race]; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends him[/her]self in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if [s]he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his[/her] place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."

-Theodore Roosevelt (w/slight JDF 100-mile variation)

No matter how this weekend went for you, no matter what reasons had it be a tough day for you, ultimately, I'm impressed by anyone who attempts to do something so silly and profoundly challenging in the first place.  Mad props and serious respect to the 178 of you who started, no matter where you ended up by Sunday morning!

David Villa-yotes on b-day run (following Frank) completing his 1st hundo

Particularly proud of the many people I knew out there, especially veteran 100-milers Josh Spector, Amy Berken-Chavez, Tiffany Guerra and rookies Anton 'Tony' Smith & David Villalobos.

The most moving story of the day that I know of (and one of the most impressive I've ever seen/heard of) was the race of Tina Ure, who walked with a guy (to protect his identity I'll call him Brian) for the better part of 3-hours, then sat with him for a long while at our checkpoint.  Brian was having severe heat issues and was brought to the care of medical personnel where they treated him for over an hour.  Tina didn't leave his side until his condition greatly improved and we notified her of course closure in a compassionate, but 'last call for alcohol' sorta way.  She started doing the math on the splits to stay ahead of cutoff times and I could tell she was about to run herself straight into the ground.  After we talked about the cutoffs, she was pleased to hear she was a full hour off in her calculations.  She ran the rest of the race like she ignored my suggestion that she take it easy and not run like a bat-outta-hell (even though she was indeed running outta hell).  At Mile 36, she was 15-min post "closing time" and she finished the race in 29-hours, 1-minute with nearly 3-hours to spare.  Super, duper, uber mad props to you Tina.  I'd be lying if I said I won't be using your compassionate performance as inspiration in a future race when I'm struggling.

The Lost Art of Respect - Lessons from the Samurai - SYNCRO-BLOG

SYNCRO-BLOG - to see many more perspectives & viewpoints on this topic, scroll to the bottom of this post for some more awesome writers' BLOG links.  Comment to share some of YOUR personal experience with "Random Acts of Kindness/Respect" or ideas about how to revitalize common courtesy...


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"Chivalry is DEAD..."

Another related statement with slightly different context:

"Common courtesy is uncommon."

You've heard these, you've read these and maybe you've even experienced these concepts over the last 1-2 decades.  While there are many theories on it, I'm not so interested in exploring what happened or even why it happened, but rather, "what can we collectively do about it (that would make a tangible difference) now?"

As is often a theme with some of my life-philosophy, I borrow (see: steal/plagiarize) from ancient Japanese wisdom.  More specifically, I take a few pages from the moral/ethical Code of the Samurai, otherwise known as "the Bushido".

The basic tenants of the Bushido Code are as follows: 
Rectitude - integrity
Courage - bravery, not to be confused with fearlessness
Benevolence - kindness
Politeness - good manners
Veracity - sincerity
Honor - to hold in high respect
Loyalty - faithfulness to commitments
Self-Control - restraint, often of one's feelings

Books have been written to explore the whole lifestyle and code of the samurai, most notably Bushido: The Soul of Japan by Inazo Nitobe, so if you want to explore the Bushido more, you have some resources. Even one of my favorite films: the Last Samurai (sorry, Chan-Chan, had to include a Tom Cruise reference there) deals with the modernization of society and the dying of old ideals/standards.

Singing, but NOT about respect with strangers.

I'm going to look at our daily person-to-person interactions for a moment, and focus on the points of benevolence, politeness, honor and touch on courage.  The lost art of respect.  Now I'm not talking R-E-S-P-E-C-T as Aretha sang about.  In case you've been singing that song in karaoke (ladies) totally misinterpreting it's meaning, Ms. Franklin was talking about getting laid when her man gets home ("takin' care... TCB" = takin' care of business and I hope I don't need to explain her "sock it to me" reference). But I digress...

I witnessed this last year: I walked out of my favorite coffee shop (Peet's Coffee in Brentwood, yeah, OJ's Brentwood) and there was a car broken down at a stop light.  The driver door was open, hazard-lights on, driver nowhere to be seen.  The signal turned a couple times, as I surveyed both sides of the street looking for some poor individual on their cell phone calling AAA for a tow.  One or two cars got stuck behind this vehicle as others wouldn't let them out/around because they (themselves) were in a hurry to get to where they were going on a busy morning commute.  Within about 5-minutes, a lady walked out of my beloved Peet's, coffee in hand, crossed the street, stepped into the "broken down vehicle" turned the hazards off, shut her door and drove onward to her destination.  Consider me floored.  My levels of expanding shock to the conversely elevated levels of entitlement and indifference.  I wracked my brain for what could have possibly motivated this behavior: "CRAP, NO PARKING, I'm LATE again, I NEED my coffee, ahhhh F#$K it, I'll just throw it in park here, it's only gonna take 90-seconds..."

This type of behavior has become more and more prevalent.  People holding a cell phone conversation while apologizing to the person they are on the phone with as they order coffee at this same spot (it would be easy for you to say, "typical LA problem" but I challenge you to look for examples close to home).  Everybody is super-busy, in a hurry, stressed out and reduced to the lowest level state of being (a coma or 'brain death' where no conscious thought is present) and all one can do is deal with their own, individual, selfish needs/wants in the present moment with no care or concern for how it shall impact so-called strangers.  The domino effect on the day/experience of others is profound.

Sometimes 'Doing the Right Thing' = Respect

Turn this around for a moment and consider the random act of kindness (a form of ultimate respect towards someone you don't know): you are having a pretty horrific day. Who knows, flat tire, you lost a big sale/account at work, got in a fight with your closest loved one and are looking at the world like it's raining adversity on you maliciously and intentionally.  "WHY ME!?" you cry to yourself.  Then, someone in the grocery store lets you in front of them in line, or sees you coming to a door with your hands full and they hold the door open for you.  Something little, so simple, and it can begin to turn a day around (or at least change your doom-and-gloom perspective).  Practicing random acts of kindness: paying it forward, can pay big dividends.  Think of when you've done something like this (I know you ALL have, or you wouldn't have been attracted to THIS post/topic), it made you feel really good.  Maybe the person smiled and gave you the most sincere "thank you" you had heard in a while?  But that wasn't the point.  You eased someone else's journey.  You paid them honor and respect.

There are quite a few levels and layers to this game I am about to invite you to play.  Different challenges with increasing levels of difficulty.  The game is to bring an increased level of respect to your interactions with other human beings, both near-and-dear to you and sometimes even more importantly, to random strangers.  If I haven't lost you yet, read on...

These levels are set in increasing difficulty scales (and are from my own dynamically subjective opinion)...

FIRST LEVEL - treat your significant other (see also: boyfriend/girlfriend) with kindness, generosity and respect (when things are happy/good)

SECOND LEVEL - extend this treatment to your close friends and family

THIRD LEVEL - add co-workers and people you see most days of the week (yeah, the coffee barista who makes your same latte each and every day)

FOURTH LEVEL - add random anonymous strangers

FIFTH LEVEL - add random anonymous strangers who are publicly disrespecting others (the self-important dude having a cell phone conversation in line in front of you)

WWMGD? - Okay, maybe a poor example...

SIXTH LEVEL - add the random anonymous stranger who is being rude to you, quite directly

SEVENTH LEVEL - add your significant other when they are having a bad day and are taking it out on you and estranged family members you've had a falling out with

EIGHTH LEVEL - RESPECT YOURSELF: who you are, who you aren't, and who you intend to be

NINTH LEVEL - respect the disrespectful Prius owner (you might have to live in Santa Monica to get this joke)

I take pride in being really good at levels 1-4.  But when others get nasty with me or treat other's poorly, this is when I gotta bring this practice/game into full swing.  There are a few different strategies to try here...

Most people don't want to intrude when someone is on their cell phone and let the person steamroll their interactions through the coffee shop.  But if there were a CULTURE for respect (which has to start somewhere, with someone taking a stand), you could tap them on the shoulder and say, "hey, it would be pretty awesome if you continued that conversation after your order OR stepped outside until you're finished" and smiled (genuinely).  Sometimes the person will do/say something hideous back, but in 90% of these interactions, you'll get the peanut gallery (others in line with you) that will chime in with an "amen" or "yeah, please sir" responses.  This is where COURAGE factors into practicing respect.  Taking a stand for propriety is more than just refraining from being a part of the problem, it is being an active participant in the solution.

Alternatively, when someone swoops in on a parking space you were waiting for, cuts you off in traffic, sneaks in front of you in the line at a deli, these are all opportunities to be polite (and let them know YOU KNOW, and it's okay).  I know, your "but that a-hole took advantage of me" voice is going crazy right now.  This challenge is one of the hardest things in the world to practice.  But it's worth it.  Maybe NOT for the stranger you feel took advantage of the situation, but the people around you who didn't have to experience you flying off the handle with road-rage over having to look for a parking space for 5-more minutes.  Respect, when practiced fully, brings more calm and peace to you and you'll be able to perpetuate and pass on that loving, kind energy to others more freely.

Take the high road.

Don't take my word for it.  I invite you to experience it for yourself.  Then come back to me and say I'm crazy, it didn't work.  I dare you...

"I'm not concerned with your liking or disliking me... all I ask is that you respect me as a human being."
-Jackie Robinson





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Some of my other favorite bloggers' posts on this same topic:

Katie DeSplinter Muses on Social Media vs Social Respectability
Jennifer Benna Ups Her Level of Motherly Self-Respect
Olga Varlamova-King Values Other's Points of View and Respects Herself
Liza Howard Respects Her Commitment to the Moment


BONUS! - One more (randomly discovered) piece on Chivalry and Good Manners by Lauren Bravo from the Huffington Post (UK).




Comment below and let me know your thoughts on this topic!

Running After the Joneses - the Comparative Paradigm Trap

Photo by Gareth Mackay

This has become all too common in today's day of social media and instant information: you hear someone talk about running their first marathon, and someone else, often a non-runner will say, "hey you gotta beat Oprah's / P. Diddy's time!"  For what it's worth, I do believe it's great to have goals and sub-goals to keep yourself motivated.  Oprah (for the record) ran 4:29:15 and P-Diddy ran 4:14:54. It was on record that Diddy, or Puffy Combs or Sean or whatever he is calling himself now also wanted to beat Oprah's time.

Keeping up with the Joneses, or in this case, running after the Joneses is a very dangerous game. It is an extension of life lived in the comparative paradigm. The chief problem with the comparative paradigm is that we almost always put ourselves in deficit. We always have LESS than the Joneses, we're always LESS fit than those we're aspiring to be like and/or LESS fast or LESS tough.

I'm not suggesting that having idols, role models or heroes is unhealthy. But rather, when your goals (and/or dreams) are based around being "as good as someone else" or in some cases "better than someone else" it starts first with the premise that you are PRESENTLY LESS ____*blank____ (*insert your less word here: talented, genetically predisposed, wealthy, fast, tough, etc.).  Being less than someone else causes a whole other issue too, as it has us focusing on being (or beating) THEM and not just being the best version of us/me that we/I can be. (yeah, the English there is hard to follow, but give it one more read for good measure.)  When you are not focused on being the best YOU that you can be, you tune out your own body/mind's present in-the-moment needs.  It all becomes about being them, or being better than them.

Take this one step further... you've grown a little bored of marathoning.  Now you've moved onto Ironman distance triathalons OR ultra-distance mountain races.  You see these ultra-crazy people around you, you read the articles in magazines and in blogs, you start to want to train/race like those people.  Yet you're only getting a small snapshot of their life. In many cases, you don't know their genetic predisposition to speed/distance, nor their history and experience (in some cases these people have run their whole lives while we may only have a few months or a few years under the soles of our shoes) and trying to emulate something before you're really ready can lead to sickness, injury and setbacks (and these setbacks can at times have huge emotional consequences).

I invite you to take a moment to evaluate your life and your present goals and dreams. Are they grounded in being the best version of you, yet? Or are they smelling a little like they were birthed in the comparative paradigm (doing something because someone else did it)?  If you discover (like I have, from time to time) that you're putting yourself at the low end of the totem pole, break that cycle. Reassess.  Recreate from a baseline of loving yourself and being a little bit fuller, more expressed and healthier version of you than you've been recently.  Otherwise, the fear of being inadequate just continues to recreate itself, and like a dog chasing it's tail, you'll never catch up with the imaginary ghosts you've created in your mind.

Here's a little mantra I plan to utilize more often...

Today, I shall strive to be a little bit better than yesterday. Mentally tougher. Happier. More generous. Not more-so than anyone else, just more than myself previously.

But I ain't gonna lie, you do gotta go beat Oprah's time.

On top of the world, being the best ME I can possibly be...

Way of the Trail Runner VIDEO (see point 5 or 6) - "thou shalt not envy another runner"