Nearly 20 years ago, I did one of the best training runs of my life with my then law partners Bob Henderson and Brent Stephens, and Brent's wife, Leslie. We ran from the Stephens' house in Midvale to Sugarhouse Park and back, a distance of 20 miles. We did the run in about 2 hours and 40 minutes - 8 minute mile pace. We made one stop at a convenience store after we had run about 8 miles. I was starving for calories, and so I bought and quickly devoured Ding Dongs, to Brent's horror. To my considerable amusement, Brent talked for miles about how disgusted he was with my food choice. Brent's opinion notwithstanding, the Ding Dongs energized me. It was one of those rare runs where I felt as though I could go forever, and in my memory, at least, I was sad when we finally reached Brent's house.
I did many more runs with Brent, somewhat fewer with Bob, but that was my only run with Leslie. Brent was not an easy person to get to know. He was difficult to approach, and seemed to hide wells of pain of which he gave only hints. Over the years, he seemed to become increasingly angry at the world, and became a trial for his law partners. But we shared a lot with each other on our runs. We occupied neighboring offices and talked briefly almost daily. Brent was a voracious reader, though at the time I doubt that much of our reading overlapped. Whatever his demons, he had a good heart, a great sense of humor, and I deeply valued his friendship.
Eventually, after I took on two large antitrust cases, I sought Brent's help. He had the ability to write extraordinarily well, and his take on legal problems was unique. For a long time I thought Brent was one of the many lawyers who litigate to the brink of trial and then settle for fear of the court room. As we worked more together I learned that Brent actually seemed to savor conflict, perhaps because it provided an outlet for his anger, or, more likely, because he simply enjoyed the sport of outwitting his opposition.
As years passed, Brent gained weight, and started coming to work late in the morning smelling of alcohol. HIs drinking became serious enough that the firm undertook an intervention. He spent a week in detox and then returned to work. To my surprise, he joined AA, rapidly lost weight, and became steadfast in his avoidance of alcohol. It was after he joined AA that we discussed his belief in God. He was a lapsed Mormon, but he accepted that there was a higher power and rigorously followed AA's 12 step program, including from my vantage a willing surrender to that higher power.
I wasn't near as close to Bob, who was known both in the legal and ultra running worlds as "Mad Dog," but I mostly enjoyed his company, pacing him at least one year during one of his many Wasatch 100 endurance runs. Bob became a legend in the Utah ultra community for his consistency, longevity and intelligence in managing pace, nutrition and hydration during those demanding runs. Bob typically ran in a plain undershirt and torn Patagonia shorts. He would trail well behind the leaders at the initial checkpoint at 20 miles on Bountiful Peak, but his discipline and experience always served him well and it was rare that he did not close on the hares at the race wore on. One year he finished in excruciating pain, thinking himself a wimp because the pain bothered him so much. He was relieved to discover he had a serious muscle tear, vitiating his fear that he had become soft. The year I paced him we started in Lamb's Canyon and climbed to the summit of what he called Bareass Pass. During our climb it was dark and slippery. It had been hot during the day and many runners were struggling, unable to eat or drink, and thus being forced to drop out. Bob, as usual, seemed to get stronger as he went, shouting "I am so angry!" before asking, "What do we like?" He then answered his own question, "Coffee black, heuvos rancheros." The glories of heuvos thus imprinted on my brain, I learned to cook them at home, and for years rarely passed them up in a restaurant.
Leslie I never knew well, but later came to learn that she, like Brent, had a deep love of literature and was an extraordinary friend to a remarkable group of women.
About a year after Brent joined AA, he and Leslie went for a Sunday morning run. Near Hillcrest High School they ran on a sidewalk paralleling the road. As they reached a sharp left turn in the road, a driver loaded with a combination of alcohol and speed was unable to make the turn, drove over the curb to the sidewalk and plowed directly into Leslie, killing her instantly. The driver ran from his car. Brent chased him town. I somehow got the news quickly and joined Brent and a few other friends at a vigil at his house that afternoon.
Brent asked me to offer the benediction at Leslie's funeral, which I considered a great honor. Leslie's running friends were the speakers and it was from them I learned what a good and remarkable person she had been. A few days later Brent told me he went to AA on Monday, the day after Leslie's death. The group leader, not knowing what had happened, announced that the subject of the day was gratitude, and asked Brent to speak first. Brent told the group he was thankful for the AA organization. Without it, he said, he would have killed himself a year earlier, and if not then, would have done it the day Leslie died.
Brent remarried a woman half his age a couple years after Leslie died. She had a child who Brent adored. He adopted her, and then he and his wife had another daughter of their own. Sadly, however, his new wife also turned out to be an alcoholic. I recall Brent telling me she joined AA. By then I had left the firm and saw Brent rarely, but it was always a joy when I did. His birthday was May 5, Cinqo de Mayo, and I always tried to call that day. I heard of escalating conflicts with the firm that lead to the firm asking him to take a leave of absence, which became permanent. After his exit from the firm I called and asked what he was doing. "Trying to stay sober," he replied. Turned out he failed. As I came to understand, his drinking increased, and his wife eventually obtained a restraining order to keep him away from his children. Then, not long after a Thanksgiving holiday, I received word from one of my partners that he had been found dead in his kitchen. It was said he choked on a piece of turkey. I heard there was vodka on the kitchen table, though I don't know whether that is true. Whether he choked or not, I believe Brent was a victim of alcoholism.
After Brent died, Bob's troubled marriage came to an end. One thing lead to another, and in the turmoil of the divorce circumstances came to light that lead to Bob's ouster from the firm. Bob had always been one of the most productive, hardest working lawyers in the firm, but he was never happy. After he left, he dumped his insurance defense practice and became a mediator. To the surprise of many, he excelled, largely because for all his flaws he had a powerful understanding of human nature and the good judgment to know when to fold 'em and when to hold 'em. Though we never ran together again after I left the firm in January of 2000, I periodically saw him on the street. He was invariably happy to see me and seemingly happy with his life. Leaving the firm freed him from his anger at conduct of his partners that he could not abide. He was rumored to have engaged in affairs with one or more women. The last time I saw him he was with a woman whose company he appeared to be enjoying immensely.
Not long after I last saw him I heard he had been hospitalized with an incurable brain disease, some form, I just heard, of mad cow disease. At age 63, he was training for his 20th (or so) Wasatch 100. He continued to train till it was no longer possible and then was hospitalized with no hope of recovery. Many friends visited him and all reported his joy at their visits. To my shame, I did not. I was traveling a lot at the time, and the time I learned of his illness to his death was no more than a couple weeks. I was unable to attend his funeral, but heard it was a bawdy affair, fitting I suppose.
It has now been 2 or 3 years since the death of the last of my three friends with whom I enjoyed that great run to Sugarhouse Park. I think about that not infrequently and wonder why I am the survivor and not any of them. We were roughly the same age. They are gone and I am here, still healthy, the winner of the tontine.
After leaving Snow Christensen, the firm where I met Brent and Bob, I joined Linux Networx, a supercomputer manufacturer, eventually to become a short-lived CEO. During that precarious period, I inherited Scott Loveless of the firm now known as Parr Brown Gee & Loveless, as outside corporate counsel. Scott and I worked on financing deals together. Because my legal experience had been largely limited to litigation, Scott became an important mentor and teacher, my responsibilities seemingly touching on legal matters daily. After a year at Linux Networx, it appeared the company would either be acquired or be forced to declare bankruptcy. Scott recruited me to join his firm, which I had long considered the best in Utah. I gratefully accepted his invitation. At first, I simply occupied an office, but expected that eventually I would join the firm as a partner when Linux Networx ran out its string.
I had great experiences at Linux Networx. I learned of a whole new world and made wonderful friends, among them Bernard Daines, who sacrificed millions of dollars in an effort to make the company succeed and who gave me the opportunity to serve as CEO. Unfortunately, after Bernard and I met with over 100 VCs we were unable to make a deal. Bernard, in the meantime had replaced me with himself as CEO while allowing me to retain the title of president. Our management styles varied greatly; indeed they hardly could have been more different. Clashes between us were inevitable. In one of my dumber, though honest, moves I told Bernard that if he were smart he would fire me. I didn't want to give up the dream of building a good, if not great, company but I had come to the realization that the dream was unlikely to be realized at Linux Networx and that, even if it were, there wasn't a good place for me as long as Bernard was CEO. When I received word from a potential investor, our last best hope for a deal, that they had decided to pass I called Bernard with the news. He walked into my office the following morning - I believe it was a Thursday - and told me my last day would be the following Wednesday. No ceremony, no severance. I had, fortunately, decided I was done anyway, and obtained a partnership offer at Parr Brown, orchestrated by my friend Scott Loveless. So I walked out the door at Linux Networx on Wednesday and in the door at Parr Brown on Thursday. And, true to our friendship, Bernard followed me to Parr Brown as a client, easing my transition by providing me a lot of legal work.
I have had my ups and downs at Parr Brown. It is a very conservative firm, built on principles of democracy, egalitarianism, and hourly billings. Ironically, I was hired in no small part because of my fame as one of the co-lead counsel in the landmark antitrust case of Caldera v. Microsoft, in which my firm received a contingent fee of $21 million. I think Scott and others hoped I could recreate the magic at Parr Brown. My first forays into new cases proved to be colossal failures and after about 4 years I wondered how much more patience the firm would have. About that time, a good friend, Jim Parkinson, introduced me to a group of San Diego lawyers representing victims of the 2007 San Diego wildfires. After a couple reshuffles of the lawyer deck, I ended up partnered with two small San Diego County firms. Collectively we represent over 160 separate claims. Although I was always confident that the case would pay off, the firm's investment period corresponded with the worst economy since the great depression and many in the firm wanted to dump the case. A part of me hoped it would because I would then be justified in leaving and taking the case on myself. After much scrutiny the firm decided to keep the case and so I stayed. We have now settled less than half our cases, and the return has exceed everyone's expectations. So for the moment I am a hero of sorts. As usual, Scott has been there for me, persuading the firm last year to give me the biggest single year raise in its history (which followed a couple years of demotions). I am, therefore, hugely indebted to Scott for his taking me under his wing, first giving me the opportunity to be part of what had been for years my dream firm and later making sure that the firm treated me as fairly as its system would allow.
Beyond all that, Scott has been an enjoyable companion. We have not become as close perhaps as either of us would have liked, but I still have valued our frequent morning or afternoon chats about the events of the day. More recently we have talked often about how long we would continue working and of our respective desires to provide well for our families. Just two weeks ago, given the volatile and uncertain financial markets, Scott told me he expected he would work till he is 70 (he is now 62), a four year increase from his previous plan to work to 66.
All that changed this past week, however. On Tuesday Scott send an email to many in the firm advising he has been diagnosed with incurable cancer, which began in his colon and now, despite six months of chemotherapy, has spread throughout his abdominal cavity. He advised he intends to embark on an aggressive course of chemotherapy, with the prospect of losing his hair, in hopes of stretching his life for two years and maybe more. The first signs seem unpromising but it is impossible to know how he will respond to treatment. My father was given two years to live twenty years ago, but his cancer responded well to treatment and he remains cancer free, his mental faculties intact, but with mobility close to nil.
Seeing my former law and running partners Bob and Brent go was sobering enough. The prospect of losing Scott, who had been the guardian of Parr Brown's culture and its moral center, is even more daunting. Pick your metaphor -- third act, fourth quarter, final inning, 11th hour, Winter -- anyway you slice it I have, in Bill Clinton's phrase, far more yesterdays than tomorrows. I feel sudden, increased urgency to get the most of those tomorrows.
I am inspired by the words of Steve Jobs in his famous Stanford commencement speech:
"No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.
"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."
It is time to consider unfinished business. What do I need to accomplish in whatever time I have? My first priority ought to be my family, and some of the time, though not often enough, it is. That is Tauni's sole priority, friends excepted, and she does a world class job of maintaining relationships not only with each of our children but tending to and building friendships with our grandchildren. She talks to them all almost daily, often many times a day. I talk to my kids weekly, mostly, and my grandkids probably less, though I rarely miss a family gathering. I took oldest grandson Carter to a football game Friday night - BYU v. Central Florida - thinking all the while of how much my few outings with my grandfather meant to me, enough so that he remains perhaps the great role model and hero of my life.
I think next of friends. On the one hand I feel as though I am blessed with many. On the other, it is but a handful to whom I am really close. This includes brothers. These friendships require constant cultivation and I can only try to keep tending to them. More later on this, but next week I return to the site of my first Boy Scout camp fifty years ago with one of my oldest and most enduring friends.
Much of this blog has been devoted to fitness and that remains a huge part of my life. Recovery from my hip injury has not been easy and for a long time I wondered whether walking without a significant hitch in my gait would be possible. Today I rode 65 miles and, though tired, I came away from the ride with minimal limp. My goal to ride 109 miles in El Tour de Tucson in November is realistic and I expect to achieve it. I hope to follow that with a ride of the entire Ragnar Florida Keys route, contingent on my persuading friend Dee Benson to finally make that trip. My trip to the Keys to support Dan and his All Bikes No Vans team earlier this year was one of my best experiences ever. Now I hope to repeat the experience.
I want to continue to create, to finish the two books I have begun to write. I hope to write histories of our family. I want my children and grandchildren to understand something of the lives that made their lives possible. I need to visit and interview my German cousin with whom I have corresponded since my mission. It would be tragic if I did not learn more of her and her family before it is too late. My departure from Ragnar two years ago remains a crushing, though necessary, disappointment. Perhaps if I had behaved differently the outcome could have been different. But given who I was I did the best I could at the time, even if that best wasn't very good. That said, having left Ragnar, I still hope for some form of association, and to create new ventures involving the outdoor sports world that has brought me so much joy.
I plan to continue to read widely and to learn. I believe and love the concept of eternal progression, and intend to continue to progress so long as I am sentient.
I am so thankful I have healed as quickly and well as I have. The ability to move is a joy and a blessing, and it seems almost central to every other blessing. If I can discipline the physical, the mental and spiritual follow. It seems I need to take care of the animal before I can bring out the best of my humanity.
There is so much I wish to do and now it seems every day is a gift I do not dare squander for fear of failing to reach what potential I have left. Bob, Brent, Leslie, and perhaps soon, Scott, have left or will leave too soon. The circumstances of death or fatal illness occur randomly and unpredictably. As were my friends, I am part of the old that must soon be cleared away to make way for the new. I must live productively and happily, and now, if I am to finish the business for which I was sent, I must follow my heart and my intuition. In doing so I must tell my story, which is part of my unfinished business. And I must move quickly, for I do not know what time remains.
