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Almost dying taught me a valuable startup lesson
Most mentors who mutter these words of advice don’t know how true this really is—they’ve never run a marathon. I’ve done four. And one almost killed me.
“It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”
Most mentors who mutter these words of advice don’t know how true this really is—they’ve never run a marathon.
I’ve done four. And one almost killed me.
It’s the truest platitude in Startupland.
Let’s talk about the startup wall.
Chicago 2014
I was in the best running shape of my life in 2014. I had trained through the heat of summer, running up to 22 miles in a day, often maintaining a 7:30 minutes per mile pace.
I was training for my third marathon and my first go at the Chicago Marathon. I had a nagging injury that summer, and a veteran runner recommended trying a different training routine to deal with calf pain. Under his advice, I warmed up with 6-7 miles, stretched for a few minutes, ran 7-8 miles, stretched again and then finished with another 5-7 miles.
This regimen had a major flaw: It was building up my endurance, but overlooked one major problem for runners.
Lactic acid.
Me early in the race in 2014, still looking spry. Photo: Dad
Come race day in October 2014, I was jacked. I came out of the gate way too fast and ran back to back 7 minute miles. I realized I needed to ease up, and pulled back to an 8 minute mile before settling into my normal comfort zone of 7:30. At mile 13, I did another 7 flat, and then the wheels started to come off the wagon.
Mile 15 was rough. I pushed on but at mile 18 that I logged another mile slower than 8 minutes. By then, I was hitting what runners call “The Wall” (more on this in the business application below).
If you crash and burn, the company will follow.”
I had headphones in to listen to music and to hear my pace. By the time I got to mile 19, I was starting to feel sick. My audio mileage cues sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher—I couldn’t tell what the voice was saying.
I walked for the first time ever in a race. But I pushed on again.
I walked again at mile 21.
This is where my memory fades. I really don’t remember running my last two miles. One of my last memories is clinging to a chain link fence while walking and turning down aid at the first aid tent. A volunteer had run out trying to get me to stop and I think I said no. I have no memory between that tent and what happened next.
I woke up at mile 23.5.
A marathon is 26.2 miles.
Around mile 19, the last photo of me before I ate a sidewalk sandwich. Yes, it’s OK to “he looks like death.” I did.
Standing above me was a few race spectators, holding homemade race signs over me to block the sun. I felt and sounded drunk. EMTs took me via ambulance a few blocks to the closest hospital where a doctor told me all of my core stats were through the floor—oxygen levels, kidney and liver function, and a few other stats I can’t even recall. The doctor chalked it up to being dehydrated, which I knew was wrong. I had hydrated for a week before the race.
I tried to get them to let me finish the race, but it was shut down by the medical professionals. And my wife.
What happened
It was the next week that I figured out what had happened. My training had not replicated the race. I was taking breaks in training, and didn’t take any in the race. In turn, my body had not built up a strong lactic acid threshold and was not used to processing it. As the blood lactate rises, pH levels fall, and your cardiac output is suppressed. This can lead to organ failure and even death.
Passing out was the best thing that happened to me, because I was so determined to finish the race I was not going to quit. In hindsight this was really stupid, but with low O2 levels, I think I was not in a great state of mind. Although I’ve since joked I’m proud that my drive is so strong I nearly ran myself to death.
I am truly lucky I didn’t die.
Keeping yourself healthy will leave you feeling like this for your marathon. Circa 2012, Louisville marathon.
This is a critical lesson for founders
Founders, you have to be prepared for “The Wall.” When you hit it, you’ll start having runner thoughts in your head:
“This is so stupid. Why am I doing this to myself?”
“I hate this.”
“I should just quit. I don’t know why I am putting myself through this.”
I’ve had these thoughts in only three activities, and they are in running, hunting in extreme cold, and running my business.
As a founder, there are times when the pressure is overwhelming. For startups, they don’t call it “The Wall”—it’s “The Trough of Sorrow.”
The Trough of Sorrow is the period of struggle a startup faces after setbacks. Once you get moving, you have a ton of excitement for what you’re doing, but reality is going to set in when you start trying to find product market fit. This is where panic can set in. It takes a strong willed person to get through this period—one who is determined to persevere.
It takes someone so driven to reach the finish line, they’re going to push themselves through.
But you have to understand that The Trough of Sorrow is triggered by panic, which is a founder’s lactic acid.
There is an antidote though.
The antidote is time
Had I known what was happening to me in the Chicago Marathon in 2014, I could have just slowed down and walked for two or three minutes, and my body could have processed the lactic acid, and I could have finished the race with a respectable time.
Instead, I went too hard and literally crashed and burned (I had the scuffs to prove it).
It’s the same for startups.
When you hit “The Wall,” your stress and anxiety can cause real physical reactions, if not anxiety and panic attacks. The first step to avoiding these moments is understanding the key is taking a moment to step away. It goes against everything in your being, because you know the only way to work out of the Trough of Sorrow is to work your tail off. But if you crash and burn, the company will follow.
This type of content is dangerous. Do not listen to the #hustlers.
Over the years, I’ve had these moments for GoWild. The first panic attack was when my side hustle was about to become real. I’ve had peak stressed moments when funding fell apart, such as when we lost $750,000 in commitments in a matter of weeks because of COVID. I’ve been through tight runway situations. I’ve had the realization that a product I love wasn’t working and we have to make changes.
The best medicine is always a short break. I believe in:
The power of being healthy, from your food to working out daily to have 30 minutes not looking at emails.
Getting outside and away from your phone, email and Slack. Whether it’s fishing, hiking, hunting, paddling or whatever—nature has a way of resetting your endorphins.
Spending time with friends and family and not talking about your company. Hug your kids, kiss your spouse, and call your mom or dad.
Self medication isn’t the answer. Grinding 20 hours a day isn’t the answer. You can’t build something great if you aren’t taking care of you. Founders, please don’t forget to slow down once a day to make time for your wellbeing.
As for my marathon failure, I came back to Chicago in 2016 with the simple goal of finishing. I ended up falling just two minutes short of my personal best full marathon.
Me with my son in 2016 after finishing the race.
Who I’m listening to: Maggie Bjorklund
What I’m reading: “Clay’s Quilt” by Silas House
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