Patrick Berry, The Levison Group
I recently got a call from my wife Laura that I had been dreading. It rekindled chilling flashbacks of a particularly difficult day a year ago. The message? It was time to sign up for our annual off-road, extreme long-distance, trail run race from hell, which I'll call "Devil's Race."
Before I dive into the details of how this race earned its satanic title, an aside is in order. Early in my life as a lawyer, I vowed that I would make an effort to maintain some semblance of a "work-life balance." Work-life balance is the notion that you should strive to properly prioritize and divide your energy between "work" (career and ambition) and "lifestyle" (health, leisure, family, and community), with the idea being that achieving an equilibrium will allow you to maximize your productivity while at work and your happiness away from it (although the concept is sometimes derisively linked with "millennial culture," there is a substantial body of research to suggest that its beneficial to both workers and employers). I made this commitment to myself early in my law practice, cognizant of the fact that I had struggled with the concept of "balance" while in law school if I wasn't putting myself through 15-hour marathon study sessions, I wasn't doing enough to get ahead. But, while this attitude may have benefited my law school G.P.A., I knew it wasn't a sustainable, long-term strategy, and ultimately would lead to an unfulfilling existence, both personally and professionally.
So, with that notion in mind, I began a quest to find non-work activities to promote the "lifestyle" prong of the work-life balance dichotomy. Distance running seemed like a natural fit. I had always be an active, outdoorsy type, having lived in Colorado for many years. Plus, Laura is a runner, and we live in a very active city. We started jogging together several nights a week after work. We gradually began signing up for races, mostly tame 5km and 10km "fun runs," such as our city's annual thanksgiving race, known as the "turkey trot." Our new endeavor was going well, and we seemed to be checking all the boxes for the "lifestyle" component of our work-life balance mission: we were getting a physical workout (health), spending time together (family), meeting new people (community), and genuinely enjoying ourselves (leisure).
Unfortunately, we couldn't leave well enough alone. Laura and I are both competitive people, and quickly the "fun runs" lost some of their appeal. We started looking for a new challenge. A good friend mentioned a trail race that was being staged in a nearby city last summer. Casting to the wind my normal lawyer's inclination to do due diligence, we hastily signed up.
For the next couple months, we trained in the same way we would for any race, by running comfortable distances two or three nights a week. When race day finally arrived, we showed up a few minutes early to get registered and scope out the situation.
I instantly became petrified. It was like a scene out of a medieval movie where gladiators were preparing for battle, and also for their eminently probable death. These people were serious athletes much more so than me and they all looked nervous. I knew that couldn't be a good sign. The well-equipped aid stations and official race adornments did nothing to put my mind at ease. The race's liability waiver, which proudly draws your attention to the myriad dangers you likely will encounter during the race (such as wild animals and dangerous, hidden objects scattered throughout the course) was prominently displayed at various points as a badge of honor, including on much of the official race apparel and products. Clearly, I had failed to fully appreciate, or adequately prepare for, my then present commitment.
This moment reminded me of a story that a senior trial lawyer once told me about an incident early in his career. A partner came into his office late one afternoon, handed him a file, and told him he needed to be in court the following morning to represent a client at an important hearing. He stayed up all night studying the file, only to realize when he arrived to court the next morning that the partner had inadvertently given him the wrong client file, and he had no idea what the case was about or what issues he was expected to argue at the hearing. That's how I felt when I arrived at Devil's Race.
As intimidating as the race seemed, we couldn't back out. We had signed up and paid the registration fee, trained (though, clearly not enough), and told friends and family about the race. I took a deep breath, mentally prepared myself for serious injury, and readied myself as much as I could for the start of the race.
As it turned out, it was as brutal as it appeared. There were vertical hills that seemed to go on forever, followed immediately by unexpected and precipitous drops. The trail, which was mostly single-track, was filled with drops, jagged rocks, tree limbs, and hidden dangers. It was hot and wet. It was the middle of July and had rained the night before, which created additional hazards in the form of mud and slick spots throughout the course. Those conditions also attracted additional wildlife, like swarms of wasps, two of which got caught in my wife's clothes and stung her several times.
But we finished, sporting poison ivy and a few cuts, scrapes, and insect bites as souvenirs. And I learned an important lesson that day that has served me well in my law practice and otherwise. No matter how well you think you've prepared for something whether for a race or a hearing life will inevitably throw you curveballs, and you need to be ready to respond, confident that you can overcome unexpected challenges.
So, when my wife asked if I wanted to sign up for Devil's Race again this year, once I caught my breath and put aside my initial sense of panic and overwhelming doom, I said, "Absolutely!" But I hope this year will go slightly differently. I think I'll train a little harder. And bring bug spray.
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© 2016 Under Analysis, LLC. Under Analysis is a nationally syndicated column of the Levison Group. Contact Under Analysis by e-mail at comments@levisongroup.com.
Published: Fri, Apr 01, 2016
