I just came back from a weekend at LiveSTRONG headquarters in Austin, TX. Three things were on the agenda. First up was the spring meeting of the LiveSTRONG Young Leaders Cancer Council. The YLCC was formed in 2009 as a way to bring in fresh and innovative ideas from a select group of individuals less than 40 years old. Sort of a “LiveSTRONG 2.0” group, and what an impressive group it is. Handpicked by the LiveSTRONG leadership and current YLCC members, these young leaders bring innovative ideas from the financial, VC, medical, legal, entertainment, and nonprofit sectors, and many are cancer survivors. We have various subcommittees tasked with addressing a wide range of issues facing the LiveSTRONG foundation. I chair a Special Projects subcommittee that is addressing some interesting fundraising models. Our plan is to help LiveSTRONG roll out some new ideas and expand their fundraising scope over the next 5 years.
The second part of the weekend was the kickoff reception for the inaugural Presidents Circle, which is a special fund created by LiveSTRONG President and CEO, Doug Ulman, and funded by a small but growing group of donors. It is an honor to be part of this inaugural donor class, and I know our funds will help Doug do amazing and innovative things.
My final stop of the weekend was to meet with Gary Metcalf of Cadence Sports, which 24HoB partnered with to run our events. Gary and his team are based in Austin, and we planned to ride Saturday morning and chat about all things booty. As it turned out, the rain and cold came rolling in the night before, and I was still coming off a cold, so we sacked the ride and instead met at Juan Pelota café, which is housed inside Mellow Johnny’s Bike Shop. If you don’t know the origins of “Mellow Johnny” and “Juan Pelota”, come find me or shoot me a note and I’ll explain. Gary and I had a great chat, and best of all I had the best coffee drink I’ve ever had at JP’s: a Mocha Azteca. OMG. Think mocha, but add Ancho Chili and Cayenne pepper powders to the chocolate. It was an “uh-oh!” then “ahhhh…yummy” experience. Try one next time you are there. Amazing.
Now I’m back in Charlotte energized after being with such great leaders and thought provoking conversation. I can’t wait until my next visit.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
So Crazy It Just Might Work
Have you ever seen a Weeping Willow tree? Long and thin branches, with even thinner green leaves that can catch the wind so the branches act like slithering snakes on Medusa's head. The sound is memorable, too. A rustling, slithering, staccato tapping sound. It gives the wind a great voice.
I had one in my backyard growing up in Richardson, Texas. But it didn't get there by accident or come from a nursery. It came from a big field behind my house, where I used to explore with my buddies Steven and Jason, start rock fights (with rock forts to protect us, of course), climb on stuff, and generally run free like kids did back then.
One afternoon I found a discarded Weeping Willow branch out in that field. I have no idea how it got there, but I showed it to my dad, and we decided to plant it in the backyard. Of all the things I could have done to that branch -- drag it behind my bike, hit my sister with it, make a roof for the rock fort, etc. -- it was something my dad said that raised my interest in planting it:
(Planting it to see if it becomes a tree is) "So Crazy It Just Might Work." So we did.
And it grew at a faster rate than even I did, to the point that when we moved it had grown into a real tree that equaled the height of the house. Years later I drove by that old house and you could see it towering over the roof from the street out front. That tree, but more importantly, that declaration my dad made, have stuck with me. In fact, I think it defines my cracked smile, who-knows-if-this-is-gonna-work kind of attitude to trying out ideas. Sure, I do my homework, but I tend to embrace the unknown. It wasn't crazy to plant that tree, but it paraphrased the quick shoulder shrug and the "let's go for it" that makes trying stuff fun.
That stayed with me throughout my teens, from trying new ideas musically, to starting a skateboard company and creating a local "rag" magazine. It stayed with me through the creation of 24 Hours of Booty, one of the most rewarding journeys I've ever taken. And it will stay with me as new ideas present themselves. Sure, I will do my homework, but there's still that boy from Richardson in me with a cracked smile and ready to see what happens next.
I had one in my backyard growing up in Richardson, Texas. But it didn't get there by accident or come from a nursery. It came from a big field behind my house, where I used to explore with my buddies Steven and Jason, start rock fights (with rock forts to protect us, of course), climb on stuff, and generally run free like kids did back then.
One afternoon I found a discarded Weeping Willow branch out in that field. I have no idea how it got there, but I showed it to my dad, and we decided to plant it in the backyard. Of all the things I could have done to that branch -- drag it behind my bike, hit my sister with it, make a roof for the rock fort, etc. -- it was something my dad said that raised my interest in planting it:
(Planting it to see if it becomes a tree is) "So Crazy It Just Might Work." So we did.
And it grew at a faster rate than even I did, to the point that when we moved it had grown into a real tree that equaled the height of the house. Years later I drove by that old house and you could see it towering over the roof from the street out front. That tree, but more importantly, that declaration my dad made, have stuck with me. In fact, I think it defines my cracked smile, who-knows-if-this-is-gonna-work kind of attitude to trying out ideas. Sure, I do my homework, but I tend to embrace the unknown. It wasn't crazy to plant that tree, but it paraphrased the quick shoulder shrug and the "let's go for it" that makes trying stuff fun.
That stayed with me throughout my teens, from trying new ideas musically, to starting a skateboard company and creating a local "rag" magazine. It stayed with me through the creation of 24 Hours of Booty, one of the most rewarding journeys I've ever taken. And it will stay with me as new ideas present themselves. Sure, I will do my homework, but there's still that boy from Richardson in me with a cracked smile and ready to see what happens next.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Guest rider
24 Hours of Booty held a contest under the "24 Days of Booty" kick off for 2010. Ironic that the Charlotte event sold out in less than 10 days. Just a few years ago I would wake up at night in a panic wondering if anyone would show up. No longer.
The contests have been really creative and fun for the 24 Days of Booty. In one, we asked who our riders would like to have on their team. The winner gets me as a guest member (not sure if that's a good thing or bad thing, but we went with it). There were great entries, but the best one was from a Charlotte fireman who recently lost his dad to cancer. The author thought about how it would be to ride with his dad during the night; not really talking, but just riding together. He also said this:
"At work you never get to pick who you save, an opportunity presents itself and you just try to save as many people as you can. Hopefully that is what 24 Hours of Booty is doing and that's why I'm riding. "
Man, that rings out to me.
The night riding is the part of 24 Hours of Booty that I do my best thinking. About cancer, about the riders and their stories, and about all the lives that are touched by what is going on around me. I want to be there with the fireman and his team this year, and I hope to spend some time riding through the night; not really talking, but just riding together.
The contests have been really creative and fun for the 24 Days of Booty. In one, we asked who our riders would like to have on their team. The winner gets me as a guest member (not sure if that's a good thing or bad thing, but we went with it). There were great entries, but the best one was from a Charlotte fireman who recently lost his dad to cancer. The author thought about how it would be to ride with his dad during the night; not really talking, but just riding together. He also said this:
"At work you never get to pick who you save, an opportunity presents itself and you just try to save as many people as you can. Hopefully that is what 24 Hours of Booty is doing and that's why I'm riding. "
Man, that rings out to me.
The night riding is the part of 24 Hours of Booty that I do my best thinking. About cancer, about the riders and their stories, and about all the lives that are touched by what is going on around me. I want to be there with the fireman and his team this year, and I hope to spend some time riding through the night; not really talking, but just riding together.
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