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

The First Steps (Out the Door) Are Often the Toughest - Original 6 Hundo Challenge aka #O6HC Blog Entry 01

"You are capable of more than you know.  Choose a goal that seems right for you and strive to be the best, however hard the path.  Aim high.  Behave honorably.  Prepare to be alone at times, and to endure failure.  Persist!  The world needs all you can give."

-E.O. Wilson

*Original 6 Hundo Challenge (#O6HC) - the first six hundred mile trail races to exist in the United States, in order of inception: Western States, Squaw Valley, CA to Auburn, CA (1974), Old Dominion, Fort Valley, VA (1979), Wasatch Front, Utah (1980), Leadville Trail, Colorado (1983), Angeles Crest, Wrightwood, CA to Pasadena/Altadena (1986), and Vermont (1989)  * - this challenge has historically been known by the title the Last Great Race which is presently "on hiatus".  Out of respect to the organizer, we've chosen to call the challenge another name until we are able to register for the LGR officially.


It's been quite a 9 month stretch since I completed the 2013 Angeles Crest 100 (AC) and Leadville Trail 100 (LT) inside of a two week period (well, 2 weeks, 1 day and a couple-few extra hours).  I spent about 10 days post that 100-mile double challenge hibernating, as it f**king wrecked me.  So, sounds like a perfectly rational idea to run 6 hundreds (the first 6 hundred mile trail races that existed in the United States) in a 13 week period, right?!?  A long-standing motto of mine: the worst ideas often make the best stories.

To begin with, I blame the seed for this idea being planted on Andy Kumeda.  In 2007, we were chatting in Wrightwood awaiting the check in for the Angeles Crest Endurance Run.  Andy had attempted to run these same six races in 2007 and going into AC Andy was 4-for-5 having timed out at that year's #4 (Leadville), at Mile 60.  I was still floored, as he had finished the Wasatch Front 100 (WF)  in 35:57 (with less than 3 minutes to spare) and was attempting to complete AC only 6 days after that finish.  The 2007 Angeles Crest became my first ever DNF at any race of any distance (it was my only hundred attempt in 2007). I pulled out about halfway through (Mile 49, Mt. Hillyer) with some breathing problems that may or may not have been hypoxia or the early stages of hyponatremia.  Andy finished AC with a couple/few hours to spare.  He vowed to give these 6 hundos another shot as soon as he got back into the Western States 100 (States), and 7 years later, here we are.

I personally loved the idea of The Grand Slam of Ultrarunning (the Slam) which is 4 of the original 6 hundreds, about one per month, but have some longer term goals at Angeles Crest, so while I wanted to run Western States, the Vermont 100 (VT), Leadville and Wasatch in the same summer, I felt too impatient to skip AC for a summer (FOMO in LA is particularly fierce).  Angeles Crest used to be late-September/early-October as recently as 2008, but has been moved to July/August since the devastating Station Fire in 2009.  Now, with AC in late-July/early-August, it's sandwiched in between the only 4 week break in the Grand Slam, 2 weeks after Vermont, 2 weeks prior to Leadville.  I realized I'd be doing 5 of the original 6, looked up Old Dominion 100 (OD), which was formerly a part of the Grand Slam, between 1986 when Tom Green first finished OD, Western States, Leadville and Wasatch in the same summer, and Tom is at it again this summer 28 years later (Go Tom Go!). Old Dominion was a part of the Slam until 2003 when OD did not happen and Vermont has formally replaced it in the Slam every year since.  Since my modified Grand Slam (the Slam+AC) only allotted 2-3 weeks between each race, it didn't seem like much more of a stretch to throw in OD 3 weeks before that all began.  NOTE: I joked far too often that Old Dominion was my "warm-up race" and that joke bit me in the rear.  OD kicked my butt, and I was taught that joking about how one race will be easier is a very dangerous mental space to be in.

The Torrey Pines Glider Port (Cliff) Stairs and Blacks Beach

I DNF'd for the second consecutive February at a SoCal 50 mile race (2014 was the inaugural Sean O'Brien, a race I helped lay out, and test ran in October to create an elevation profile, and 2013 I failed to finish the Ray Miller 50 Mile before going on to complete Angeles Crest and Leadville later that year), and I'm holding my breath that it was a good omen (although I have to work out my string of lifetime DNF's the second time I run a course which includes 2 hundreds and 2 fifties).  That was a wake up call.  Training got a lot more consistent after that.  Life, however, failed to cooperate with my extended training plans for this challenge.  From February to late-May, ultimately I averaged 47.5 miles per week, which included an entire month where my mileage total didn't eclipse 62 miles (for the entire month!).  At one point, spent about 2 weeks with my mom who had a horseback riding accident that led to her fracturing L1 and requiring some significant medical care for the first phase of her recovery.  I got to know the running available in La Jolla, California pretty intimately as I'd help administer my mom's meds and home care, then head out the door for a couple hours of sand running & cliff repeats near the Torrey Pines Glider Port & Blacks Beach.  Looking back on this, it may have been the longest half month of my life.  Seeing a loved one that injured is beyond any emotional or physical stress I have ever experienced.  My mom is greatly improved (3 months into her recovery) and may have dodged a bullet not immediately needing a major 5 vertebrae spinal fusion surgery.  Yay, mom!  Got really sick for about 8 days after that, and didn't feel like myself (running or otherwise) for another 3-4 weeks.  When all that dust settled, I was 3 weeks from race #1 in the #O6HC


"Good judgment comes from experience.  Experience comes from bad judgment."
-Mark Twain


Instead of going through and writing a blow-by-blow recap of the 3 one-hundred mile races I've already gone through (which I promise to recap via podcast or video-blog, at the very least), I'll let you know a few of the epiphanies and reflections that could hopefully be more useful to you in your running or life goals.

*Never underestimate 100 miles  - researching all 6 races in this series, both Old Dominion and Vermont had the least aggressive elevation profiles and fastest historical finishing times.  I went into OD saying, "this is my warm up 100" and the race beat me down pretty soundly.  Kate has seen me run this distance at least a dozen times, and said she had never seen me looking that broken at the end of a race.  Every 100 will have it's own unique (and idiosyncratic) challenges.  Respect the distance.  Respect the conditions.  Seek to uncover the hidden challenges of an event prior to starting.  I was geared up for the challenge of the humidity, when my left peroneal tendon went out, I realize I had never considered what cambered country roads would do to me.

*Plan to flow (and how to flow when the plan disintegrates) - mentality conditioning is as important as physical conditioning in difficult life and running adventures.  Look to unlock your Zen by practicing some mantras and putting forth a positive perspective (or assigning silver linings to tough situations) in training and in life, prior to the adversity that will inevitably find you in your goal events.  In the early stages of the Vermont 100, I noticed a piece of trash on the trail, which I picked up to put in my handheld water bottle sleeve.  The paper, when examined, was from a fortune cookie.  The fortune?
"You can't control the wind, but you can adjust your sails."

Frolicking at Western States around Mile 38

This thought stuck with me the rest of the day.  I couldn't control when/where my difficulty would arise, but I could determine what attitude I approached the difficulty with, and make adjustments to my plan for that race.  That sourced me the rest of the day and worked very, very well.

*Far more fun to be had rooting FOR people than wasting energy rooting AGAINST someone - I have met and enjoyed the company of no less than 30 people over the 300 miles Andy and I have covered thus far (in Virginia, NorCal and Vermont).  To qualify that, I've talked to more than 300 people, but have held at least 3-5 minute conversations during the race, with probably around 1 person every 10 miles.  I love hearing a person's (aka new friend's) story.  Why they do this crazy $#!^ too, what they are up to in this one precious life of theirs.  First half of the race it's generally talking about life, goals and dreams type of stuff.  Second half of the race, often times we're talking about problems we're having, a running issue we need to trouble shoot, (adjusted) goals for the race, and how we can help each other achieve them.  The last time I remember actively rooting against some one (save any member of the Los Angeles Dodgers, LA Kings, or Dallas Cowboys) was Rollie the Goalie after seeing his cheap antics of the 2006 NHL Playoffs.  Honestly, don't even ask.  When it comes to ultrarunning, a few people have made it clear to me that they are rooting against me (again, don't ask) and I can't even find the energy to return favor.  There's so much goodwill, and positive humanity around 100 mile mountain races, I find that I want everyone to have their best day.  We all know we're in for trials, for discomfort or bone-jarring pain, and the day/night/day will be an adventure.  The kinship this activity breeds is what makes this community so special to me.  So even if I get it in my head that I want to "finish before you do" which never equates to me as "beating someone" as there are only a few rare friends I even think this way about (Mike Chamoun, Karl Hoagland, Eric Wickland, George Gleason, Kate Martini, etc.), I still want you to have your A+ day out there, and want it to be a fun story for both of us to share a beer over when we're long since old-and-gray.  So do what you can out there to help people succeed, yes, help your fellow competitors.  It will make you feel better (and forget your current issues for a moment).  That good mojo will feed back into your race.  But don't do it for the mojo.  Do it because you want to see yourself as kind, generous and graceful.  Never know, you might turn someone's day/race around.  That feels better than a finish (to me).

I could wax on (and wax off) a lot longer on these things, and these three races.  But there's a lot more decompressing to do, and 3 more races to "run".  I'm going to sign off now and get this thing up, as it's been too long a dry spell for this #WannaBeWriter

Overemphasis on Training in 100 Mile Trail Run Prep - Angeles Crest 100 Lessons 2006-2014

"Nothing on Earth can stop the man with the right mental attitude from achieving his goal; nothing on Earth can help the man with the wrong mental attitude."
-Thomas Jefferson

BAD ATTITUDE 101 - Angeles Crest 2006 at Eagle's Roost

I am not the most qualified person to be telling you how to train for a 100 mile mountain race.  I am not fast, and am lucky to crack the Top 25 of a deep race field.  I don't even log high mileage all that often (number of weeks in 2013 over 70 miles = 6, number of 100+ mile weeks not including a week with a 100 mile race in 2013 = 0).  I have even coached runners for Angeles Crest (and various other 100 milers) that have failed to finish their respective races (don't ask about my Dave 'Comet' Chan story, please).  There are many more qualified AC experts out there.

All that aside, you have found this blog entry (so pull up a chair and stay a moment).  I'm here to present a perspective that I've been chewing on for a few years now, something I've struggled to fully grasp or articulate, but it crystallized in a conversation with a fellow student of 100 milers, and someone far more credible than I (who will likely blog on this very topic in the near future *nudge, nudge* ).

Okay, I lied, look how pretty I am here.

Running 100 miles (or "migrating 100 miles", to quote my fellow blogger Ashley) in a single day is a brutal challenge.  It tests us physically and psychologically, sometimes to the very fabric of our being.  It strips us of all excess energy, to the point where all facades fall away and we're left raw and emotive, just a primal being often going off of pure grit and gut instinct.  In my case this is often not a pretty sight.  For some of my closest friends it is a time to fully enjoy the show, as I behave in ways I might not want to be seen behaving at any other time (at least publicly).  I might throw a tantrum or two. I sometimes complain. I often puke. Sometimes I even cry like a baby.  And hold on to your seat for this one, there are instances I am dead quiet for extended periods of time.  *GASP!*

Chamoun leads Gleason up Williamson - AC 2012

I'd estimate in all of the training programs I've personally executed over the last 12 years preparing for marathons and longer races, my two most dedicated, high mileage, most focused training programs were in 2006 training for my first Angeles Crest 100 Miler and in 2008/2009 training for the Western States 100.  Interestingly enough, until I tried to run my 2nd hundred miler in a 2 week period (AC/Leadville back-to-back in 2013), both AC '06 and States '09 were my two most difficult 100 milers (see: most frequent low points, most death marching, and highest cumulative time in aid stations).  I don't care if you finish these races in 18 hours (or faster) or 30 hours, to me, speed is relative and it is an impressive feat of courage (and foolishness) to even toe the line of one of these monster mountain endurance runs.  Conversely, two races I probably had the least consistent training for, AC '13 and Rocky Raccoon '10, I had some of my better times.  Yes, those are wildly different events. I suffered tremendously at AC last year due to my lack of training (and other influencing factors), but I ran times I consider to be good for me at those two events (with less than ideal training).  This had me examining some of the finer points of 100 mile race prep with many friends of mine who have a depth of personal experience at 100 miles.  Leading up to a conversation between Pam, Kate and I, about interesting and notable performances on less than ideal training earlier this week.

As far as I'm concerned, this hypothesis could apply to the Pam Smith's (see: runners who win races) just as much as it does athletes who are fighting cutoffs for a high percentage of the race, and everyone in between.  Granted, the athlete who has less than ideal training might not be competitive for a win in today's deeper fields of competitors since most elites I've read up on now consider every element of what I'm about to talk to you about.

DISCLAIMER: I do not intend to insinuate that an athlete does not have to train very much to finish a 100 mile race.  Training up to this distance is essential.  Doing so intelligently, patiently (over an extended period of time), and consistently over race specific terrain is ideal.  The goal should be arriving at the starting line healthy, rather than "how many times can I run 100 miles in my weekly training" no matter the consequences.

HYPOTHESIS:  a great many athletes, especially first timers, place a dramatic overemphasis on training in prep for a 100 mile mountain race

To say this another way: many of us focus so much on cumulative weekly miles, running fast, running up steep terrain, tempo runs, speed work, stair repeats, strength training and getting physically ready that we overlook some pretty essential aspects of 100 mile racing (not to say we're all racing, but 100 miles in an event is distinct from just going out to do 100 miles on your own with no time constraints).

What often gets overlooked when training is overemphasized:

Checklists of everything I could possibly anticipate: AC 2012 edition

*Nutrition - both day-to-day diet influencing metabolic efficiency and effective race day nutrition strategies
*Mental Strategies - conditioning ourselves to think in a way that empowers and inspires our best effort, learning to deal with the inevitable and often devastating lows of a 100 mile run.  This can include mantras, anticipation of difficulty and acceptance of certain problematic scenarios.
*Hydration/Electrolyte Replenishment - there are many schools of thought here, but often athletes don't even consider how little (or how much) they're drinking or how an electrolyte imbalance might affect their race
*Pacing Plan vs Exertion Plan - you might think to yourself here, "nope, I always have a pacing plan" and that's one of my key points: we are often more focused on some target race time than actually adjusting to the effort/exertion level that is appropriate at that moment based on the signals our body is sending us, which can be greatly affected by conditions (heat, altitude, wind, terrain, humidity, etc.).  This doesn't just mean running too fast, it's sometimes being too conservative.
*Attitude - I hold this one slightly distinct from "mental strategies" although it is closely related.  A positive mentality can sometimes help us look at the same (sometimes ugly) circumstances and instead of panicking or having an emotional breakdown, we can smile and laugh about it.

"Do as I say, not as I do." -  IPA & a donut???

I'm the last person who can tell you what you should be doing for nutrition, but for many athletes, it seems to be almost an afterthought.  Fueling strategies implemented on race day aren't tried-and-true for most.  Sometimes, athletes that have something they've practiced a ton in training goes haywire on race day because of aid station grazing (those candies and cookies look great, I'll have a couple).

Hydration and electrolyte replacement is really personal.  There are some diametrically opposed schools of thought here on how much one should drink and whether one should supplement with electrolytes or not.  Again, if you've given no thought to it, it's just guesswork.  It's amazing that so many athletes spend a year planning to run 100 miles, pouring hours into physical training each week, many more hours just thinking about it, without consideration for anything specific here.

Pacing plans: here's the thing, if you are seeking to finish your first 100 mile race, finishing will be a PR.  Some athletes get so caught up in buckling, going for sub-24's, and completely ignoring the redline signals because of pace splits for a goal time that they sacrifice the finish.  And it has proven to be a grotesque oxymoron for me (and dozens of the athletes I train) that when I focus on everything but my splits, I run my fastest time.  When I focus on my time splits, I fall off them pretty quickly and then have to deal with my negative emotions around that early failure.

"Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference."
-Winston Churchill

Hurting: Mile 52 at AC in 2011. Attitude shift necessary.

Attitude/Mentality: I remember a few years back being too sick to start the Lake Sonoma 50 Miler, on race day I ended up working race check in and helping build the finish line area.  I got to cheer a few Coyotes and a few other friends across the finish line.  I remember one girl in particular who finished mid-pack and threw a tantrum to her friends, "That was the worst day of my life!" she sobbed.  I sat there awestruck.  Wait, didn't you just finish 50 miles?  What about the people still out there, behind you?  What about the people who DNF'd today?  I will never know this girl's name, but she taught me an amazing lesson that day: embrace the hurt locker.  I went on to Angeles Crest that summer (four months later) and every time I felt miserable, I thought to myself "I'm still moving forward at a decent clip, it could be worse, I'm so grateful to be out here doing this..." and it changed my race.  Without very much race specific training that summer, I ran my fastest AC100 time.  A huge part of that was my perspective shifting.  I put a lot of thought into it beforehand.  How am I going to feel out there?  Probably pretty crappy at some point, but that's what I signed up for.

In summary, there are so many pieces to traveling 100 miles on foot, in a single go.  Training may be a key piece of that, but if you don't consider every other piece, you might just be throwing a lot of that training down the drain.

Another parting shot, a clip of the conversation between Pam, Kate and I:
Pam - "So, how fast do you have to run to go sub-24 in 100 miles?"
JDF - "You gotta run 12-13 minute miles, depending on how much time is wasted in aid. Overall 14:30-ish average."
Pam - "Right. So really, how fit does one have to be to maintain 12-13 minute pace?"
JDF - "Depends on the course, I guess?"
Pam - "Sure, but don't you think it's not often the pace that sabotages one's sub-24 goal, but rather, poor nutrition plans, sour stomachs, and not being ready for the low points (mentally)?"
JDF - "Interesting point, Pam..."

Mr. & Mrs. Smith (photobomb by yours truly)

There's a good chance you'll see Pam on the starting line at Angeles Crest this year with a personal vendetta against AC.  I met Pam in 2010 at AC, at Mile 42.  She was trying to drop out and her husband Mac persuaded me to convince Pam to continue.  So she dropped out at the first aid station that was crew inaccessible.  Coincidentally, it was the aid station where I branded myself with my first ever DNF too, Mile 49, the Mt. Hillyer checkpoint.  Whether there in 2014 or not, I'm betting on Pam to finish her next AC...

My Angeles Crest 100 History in finishing (or DNF) photos:

2006 - Finish, 26:27

2007 - DNF at Mile 49

2011 - Finish,   23:51  (first AC silver)

2012 - Finish, 22:38

2013 - Finish, 23:39

2014 - ????

No idea what this year holds in store, but I know Angeles Crest will hypothetically be my 4th 100 mile race inside of 2 months (June 7 - August 2).  I'm ready to be schooled again by one of my favorite mountain ranges anywhere... and I'll be hitting the starting line leaving no stone unturned...

Kayaking the River of Life - Self Limiting Beliefs & Adaptive Thinking

It took me a couple decades to figure out how much of an impact how I think (and what I believe to be true) about an experience influenced how I perceived that event, and furthermore, how my actions moving forward (in relationship to that event) would be affected.  Flashback 25 years prior: I am in lock-down psychiatric care, yep, I am institutionalized. (read more on the depression story here if this is the first you're hearing this information)  I believed I didn't belong in an institution.  I was in shock, angry and upset.  Doctors & case workers would interview me in therapy sessions, and I acted like I was completely above it all.  In group therapy, my body language was a collective "go f**k yourself" and I absolutely refused to participate.  How the patients there were treated and managed seemed to me a little bit how I imagine prison might be, but instead of everyone being a danger to each other (i.e. fights between prisoners), most inmates were just on watch for being a danger to themselves.  A couple of days into that experience, I finally started asking questions of myself and the doctors.

"How long do you expect me to be here, doctor?"

"3 months or more, Jimmy."

It was June, and I was just graduating (if one can really call it that) from elementary school and preparing to enter middle school.  It was a huge transitional time for all kids, but I was put in a whole other category of transition.  It would be like most 16 year old kids are getting drivers licenses and I'm completing a program to pilot the next space shuttle mission.  Except I was 12 pushing 13.  Well, at least chronologically I was that age. This experience launched me into a whole other mode of consciousness about life, the fragility of freedom, the societal agreements about what sanity is, and really put me in a place where I felt desperately alone in the world (for a great many years).

"3 months is my whole summer!  I can't be here 3 months!!!"

"Then you'd better start cooperating with your caretakers and case workers, Jimmy, and pretty quick."

So I started to (figuratively) dance.  Like an organ grinder monkey, I learned some tricks.  It was at that moment I realized that there was no turning back.  The institution was my new reality at least for the time being, and I had to adapt or die.  If cooperation was what would get me out of there, i.e. not fighting against my circumstances, then I was going to be the poster child for institutionalized good behavior.  I was 3-4 years every other patients junior.  The older kids began to take me under their wing, make sure I was protected and cared for (by the other kids).  If you were against the grain with those kids, some horrible stuff happened that I won't dare describe to you, as it's simply a sad, tragic situation.  I was released within 2 weeks.  Making so much progress, the doctors said, that I could be moved into normal life with out patient psychiatric therapy sessions.  Life started to flow in the direction I desired again.

Imagine the energy and direction of your life like water flowing down a river.  There are times the water isn't moving very fast and you can pretty easily navigate your kayak back and forth to either side of the river, even turning your direction upriver if the water is calm enough.  Then there are times you hit Class IV rapids (or worse) and instead of navigating, you're just trying to pass that section of the river safely.  You aren't thinking about the banks or even where you want to go, you are mentally present and in the current moment, each paddle stroke is a critical one, getting through the tough part to where the water will settle down again.  Going backwards (at least while in the water) at that point is completely out of the question.

Life moves like the most powerful river you can imagine.  More often than not, it flows in one direction (we all are getting older each and every day, there is no getting younger chronologically).  We can fight that flow, but we'll be much more powerful and efficient learning to work with the flow, and the occasional ebbs, and then the flow again.

For parts of 2013, my life seemed calm.  I had time to really think things through.  Reflect on what I wanted to do and where I wanted to be moving forward.  I/we hit some Class IV 'life rapids' in November (my partner in crime Kate broke her leg and will require 9-12 months of rigorous healing, relearning how to walk, drive, and eventually, another surgery, then hopefully, someday soon, she'll run again) and I've been doing all I can to survive since then, and just now the waters are starting to calm down a bit.  This river is still moving swiftly, so I am mindful that I'm likely close to more rapids, but I'm calm and present to the work there is to be done.  I'm mostly at peace with my situation. Mostly.

This principle is applicable to life, athletics, career and even romantic relationships.  There's a time to think and plan, and there's a time to act with little to no time to think.  And the more willing you are to accept your present circumstances as they are, the higher efficiency you will have in your ability to navigate to calmer waters where you can think about where you want to be next.  Plan, act, plan, act.  But we don't get to choose where the rapids happen.  Yes, we can feel the water start to move more swiftly (in our lives, there are always signals and indicators if we are paying attention for them), and you can anticipate, but you rarely know whether something will be Class II, Class V, we really just need to work to be as ready as possible to adapt.  When an undesirable event happens, of course there is a normal progression of shock, awe, frustration, sadness, etc.  But if you spend a ton of time feeling sorry for yourself (and working to get others to feel sorry for you), it's precious time and energy wasted, energy that could have been spent getting you back to where you want to be.  We all freeze in moments of trauma.  It's the moment you realize you're frozen that you have a choice to start moving, or just complain about being frozen.

A smooth river never made a skilled kayaker.

I am not suggesting that you shouldn't ever be upset.  Just consider that there is a point where we personally prolong the upset by getting others around us riled up about our situation.  We want to hear "I'm so sorry that happened to you" over and over and over again, and there's no gold in that. It just cements the energy and emotions around those events in place, and makes us stagnant.  Think for a moment about that family member or friend who wears their trauma(s) like a badge, and dumps them on you when you ask "how are you doing?"  You sometimes start to avoid that person (oops, that call went to voice mail again).  Moving forward becomes increasingly difficult for you (or them).  Imagine when someone hears about your difficult situation and says, "I'm sorry" and you can turn it around (adapt to the moment) and say, "don't be sorry for me, this event gave me new perspective and I'm now more clear about which direction I am headed. Maybe you could help me move in that direction?" Suddenly, you are one step closer to creating the new environment and life that you seek.  Instead of in the same place you were, hating your situation for much longer than necessary.

I acknowledge that this rule is much easier stated than followed.  My last 6 weeks has been the one of the toughest month and a half periods of my life.  But as is often the case with something difficult, it has been rewarding, it has been profoundly moving, and it has given me clarity of purpose.

Take a look at situations you might be presently struggling with.  If you are an athlete, look at how being upset and wishing a moment (in a race, or in training) be different than it actually is stops you from your forward progress.  I have been known to throw a few tantrums at aid stations in 100 mile mountain races, shhhhhhhhhh, don't tell anyone.  This can literally apply to any unexpected circumstance.  Moving forward, you have a choice to create a new pattern of thought and behavior that empowers you, and maybe you'll start looking at the rapids in life as something far more interesting to navigate, possibly even exciting and exhilarating...

One more thing. Class U / Class VI rapids will get you killed quick, so don't go chasin' waterfalls...

What You Do Isn't Enough, Challenge What You Think & Say - the Word Creates World Paradigm

"Whether you think you can, or you think you can't - you're right."
-Henry Ford

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can... I just did.

I'm here to take a look at the relationship between what we think, what actually comes out of our mouth, and what we follow through and do.  I'm going to start with an assertion: if you are reading this blog (and I assure you at this point, YOU ARE reading this blog), then you are a dreamer, and I further assert a dream-seeker.  Otherwise my incessant "live your dreams" bantering would be annoying.

This blog entry in particular, is intended to have you put your thoughts and words under a microscope for a moment, to devote thoughtful consideration to that what you think (even those thoughts you keep to yourself) and consider how deep that influence is on the world you manifest and create.

A brilliant 'Thought Diagram' borrowed from www.CartoonChurch.com

You either speak (and think, and act) from a space of LOVE or from a space of FEAR and your word creates your world.  Especially your thoughts (your words to yourself).  I haven't read the book "The Secret" but from what I understand from the people who've demanded I read it to embrace more magic in my life, this isn't anything in the realm of the law of attraction, nor manifesting things.  This is common sense stuff, in terms of how we perceive the world around us.

I have a rule for myself, and this is where it begins:

THE RULE OF ASSUMPTION
95% of the time in life, I am not going to know the answer, the truth, nor the reality of something.  As a human being my mind absolutely must fill in the blank with the answer my mind deems most likely to be correct.  If I'm going to make something up, it might as well be something that empowers me and propels me forward.  I'm just as likely to make up something positive OR negative that will be incorrect, but until I know the truth of the matter, I shall consciously and intentionally make up something empowering.


I'll give you a real world scenario to illustrate this long winded rule.  One of your friends, maybe a coworker, suddenly stops talking to you.  They no longer respond to texts, when you see them are suddenly quiet and reserved.  Why is it in these situations we commonly assume the worst?  That inner gremlin (my inner voice, I call it a gremlin because it rarely has really positive insight) says something to me like, "they're MAD at you about something" and I start to wrack my brain for what I could have possibly done or said that has offended them.  Now, I can be a particularly offensive person from time to time, I'm brash, over-the-top, I talk too much and listen too little, and I can be quite crass.  I'm never surprised when someone is upset or offended.  My stomach still bottoms out when someone is upset with me, especially a close friend or family member, but that bottoming out hasn't really changed my patterns of speech and behavior.  For better or worse, I'm ME in just about every situation.  I would have made a great court jester, until of course I offended the queen and was beheaded (I didn't research this piece, so not sure if that's even historically accurate).  When I IMAGINE that someone is upset with me, I naturally start to interact with them less.  Not seeing them, I start to miss my friend so I finally reach out (via email, of course) with a "hey, is everything okay? I noticed you're not yourself and I assumed I did something wrong and wanted to check in" type message.  A very high percentage of the time, I get a message back explaining some family trauma, somebody is sick, a relationship just ended, and it had nothing to do with me.  Suddenly, I realize that the few days I avoided this friend, I was being a horrible friend as they could have used some love and support.

Baseline message, fear sourced those thoughts and actions.  It influenced my perception, then my behavior.  Imagine the same scenario where you brought love to the assumptions and how it might influence those actions.  Can you see you'd think, speak, and act differently?  I know I have (when implementing my rule about assumptions).

Gratuitous Chan Chan pic of Sim and Cameron for no reason

Cliche as it may be, if your self talk (thoughts) indulges fear, fear grows and takes over.  If you seek to love and respect yourself, if you practice consciously creating things out of love, which starts with loving yourself (your strengths, your weaknesses, your perfect imperfections) this will translate into a foundation for loving others around you, consistently.

Next time someone is downright nasty to you (stranger or friend) for no good reason, before you knee jerk into their black hole of negative energy, ask yourself what they might be saying to themselves that is causing their sour behavior and perspective.  Sometimes the best way to help someone out of that space is to not join them in it.  Yes, that's much easier said than practiced.  But it is indeed possible.


"In order to carry a positive action we must develop [first] a positive vision."
-Dalai Lama

My relationship began and thrives with a positive vision (yet sometimes the gremlin rears it's ugly head)

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!