October 19, 2018

Upward Mobility — Pop Music Style

I had a different post planned for this week, but then I heard a song over the gym soundtrack last week that perfectly illustrates the dynamics of social capital and upward mobility and the perils of the rags-to-riches journey. It also captures an attitude that often accompanies that feeling of having your nosed pressed up against the glass: wanting to move up but feeling blocked. That’s a lot of economics to pack into one pop song, so I just had to feature it.

I talked about all of that in the very first post in this series just a bit over a year ago, when I wondered out loud whether money can make us happy:

I mean, all these famous (and mostly rich) people are entitled to their opinion, but we’d like to find out for ourselves if money could make us happy — we’re pretty sure we could handle it.

Rapper Travie McCoy was pretty sure he could handle it, too. He wrote a song saying so — the one I heard at the gym — then lived his own upward mobility rise, fall, and eventual comeback. His experience couldn’t be more different than that of the 9.9 percenters we heard from last week. Apparently the social capital of the pop music red velvet rope club isn’t the same as the club covered by Forbes.

McCoy teamed up with Bruno Mars to do the song back in 2010. Obama was president, we were just coming off the Great Recession, it was five years after Hurricane Katrina and four years before Bruno Mars did his first Super Bowl halftime. Last time I checked, the song’s official video was closing in on 330 Million views. Obviously it hit a sweet spot. The song made an appearance on Glee— the unofficial version I found had nearly a million views — more hitting a sweet spot.

Judging from what happened next, McCoy might have been wrong about whether he could handle it. A “whatever happened to Travie McCoy?” search suggests his big hit didn’t give him the life or make him the person he visualized in the song. Among other things, there was a steep decline into opioid then heroin addiction, but since then he has clawed his way back into the music scene.

We’ll let the song deliver its economic lessons on its own terms. If you want to take a short break for a catchy tune, you can watch either the official video or the unofficial Glee version below. (The latter is an excellent cover, with the lyrics spruced up for prime time TV, as reflected in the lyrics below.)

I wanna be a billionaire so frickin’ bad
Buy all of the things I never had
I wanna be on the cover of Forbes Magazine
Smiling next to Oprah and the Queen

Oh every time I close my eyes
I see my name in shining lights
Yeah, a different city every night oh right
I swear the world better prepare
For when I’m a billionaire

Yeah I would have a show like Oprah
I would be the host of everyday Christmas
Give Travie a wish list
I’d probably pull an Angelina and Brad Pitt
And adopt a bunch of babies that ain’t never had **it
Give away a few Mercedes like here lady have this
And last but not least grant somebody their last wish
It’s been a couple months that I’ve been single so
You can call me Travie Claus minus the Ho Ho
Get it, hehe, I’d probably visit where Katrina hit
And damn sure do a lot more than FEMA did
Yeah can’t forget about me stupid
Everywhere I go Imma have my own theme music

Oh every time I close my eyes
I see my name in shining lights
A different city every night oh right
I swear the world better prepare
For when I’m a billionaire
Oh ooh oh ooh for when I’m a billionaire
Oh ooh oh ooh for when I’m a billionaire

I’ll be playing basketball with the President
Dunking on his delegates
Then I’ll compliment him on his political etiquette
Toss a couple milli in the air just for the heck of it
But keep the five, twenties tens and bens completely separate
And yeah I’ll be in a whole new tax bracket
We in recession but let me take a crack at it
I’ll probably take whatever’s left and just split it up
So everybody that I love can have a couple bucks
And not a single tummy around me would know what hungry was
Eating good sleeping soundly
I know we all have a similar dream
Go in your pocket pull out your wallet
And put it in the air and sing

I wanna be a billionaire so frickin’ bad
Buy all of the things I never had
I wanna be on the cover of Forbes Magazine
Smiling next to Oprah and the Queen
Oh every time I close my eyes I see my name in shining lights
A different city every night all right
I swear the world better prepare for when I’m a billionaire
Oh ooh oh ooh for when I’m a billionaire
Oh ooh oh ooh for when I’m a billionaire

I wanna be a billionaire so frickin’ bad!

More upward mobility stories coming up — one of them is my own.

The Future of Law (Part Seven): The Law Gets Faster, Goes Micro, and Eats at a Communal Table

rhodesHarvard professor Clayton M. Christensen coined the phrase disruptive innovation in the late ’90s.

The theory of disruptive innovation . . . explains the phenomenon by which an innovation transforms an existing market or sector by introducing simplicity, convenience, accessibility, and affordability where complication and high cost are the status quo. Initially, a disruptive innovation is formed in a niche market that may appear unattractive or inconsequential to industry incumbents, but eventually the new product or idea completely redefines the industry.

Until recently, the legal profession and the law remained mostly aloof from the impact of innovative disruption, moving instead at an analog pace of change driven by reasoned discourse and scholarly input. Think of the usual pace of legislation, appellate review, uniform laws, and legal restatements. But life in the slow lane is ending.

  • The analog pace of changes in the law is already breaking down. Legal practice developments are already moving at the digital pace of disruptive innovation. Changes to the law itself will soon follow suit.

Disruptive innovation doesn’t wait for reasoned discourse. It moves fast and impulsively, riding on trends fueled by democratized access to information. Disruptive change in the law will create new modes of change that simply will not wait for the historical pace of precedent and consensus.

  • These law changes will first follow the new practice models serving legal niche markets, where “simplicity, convenience, accessibility, and affordability” are essential. (i.e., they will be “micro-law” in nature. We looked at the micro trend in this post last summer.)
  • This new way of creating and changing applicable law will go mostly unnoticed to “industry incumbents” at first, because the changes will be narrowly focused on the particular needs of emerging niche markets, which will make them “unattractive or inconsequential.”
  • In time, however, this way of creating and changing the law will gain wider usage and impact.

Other practice innovations already in place have disruptive potential as well. Consider, for example, ediscovery and due diligence. These practices began as digital versions of their former analog practices, and mostly retain that character, but possibly not for long.

  • These digital innovations could easily morph from their case-specific beginnings into more widely accessible databases of searchable information.
  • If so, they will change the overall fact-specific context of dispute resolution and transactional law.
  • And if they do that, new standards of pleading and disclosure will arise, and will require new rules and procedures to guide their use.

And finally:

  • This new way of changing the law will likely arise from an informal collaborative process which will further — by a quantum leap — the goal of bringing more “simplicity, convenience, accessibility, and affordability” to dispute resolution and commercial transactions.

In this regard, think of disruptive innovation as a sort of communal table process for changing the law. You’ve noticed the community tables springing up in restaurant and coffee shops. They’re more than a new style of seating arrangements: they’re changing the dining/drinking industry and the dining out experience. (For a wonderful analysis, see Alone Together: The Return of Communal Restaurant Tables.)

These developments will create some fascinating new bedfellows. Next time we’ll look at one such pair: commercial law and legal ethics.

Kevin Rhodes’ Legal Connection blog posts for the past three years have been collected into an ebook which is currently available as a promotional free download from Smashwords, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, and Scribd, and for a nominal price from Amazon. For those who prefer to do their reading in hard copy, the collection will soon be available in that format (details to follow).

Is There a Better Exit Strategy Than Death?—Part II: The Interviews: Anne Vitek—Planning for and Managing Your Retirement Sortie

Editor’s Note: This article appeared in the September 2014 issue of The Colorado Lawyer. This is the second part of a 5-part series on Legal Connection. Click here for Part 1.

Sandgrund-VitekBy Ronald M. Sandgrund, Esq., InQ.

InQ.: Anne, how old were you when you first felt that practicing law was what you wanted do as a career? How old were you when you first had serious thoughts about exiting the full-time practice of law? What prompted this change in your thinking?

Anne: From about age 14, I thought I wanted to be a lawyer. I was 29 when I started practicing law full-time, and did so for thirty-four years, almost to the day. I always knew that I would retire from practicing law. I was probably in my late 40s when I started thinking about where I would retire to.

InQ: How old were you when you first started making concrete plans to exit the full-time practice of law? What was your thought process?

Anne: I was 58 when I started making plans to exit. I had been practicing law for thirty-four years. We all have a limited lifespan and I wanted to do something different with the remainder of my life. My husband and I did a lot of work for the state and our contracts lasted for two years. We timed the contracts so that they were completed as we were closing down the practice. However, we still wanted to earn a living until we were ready to retire, so we took on more hourly work. Since our practice was primarily trial work, we could practice from our home. We did so for the last three years, which substantially reduced our overhead.

InQ: Did you develop any sort of plan as far as how to accomplish your retirement goals?

Anne: My plan was to begin thinking about retirement when I was in my 50s and to try to assure that I would have the financial resources to retire. At that point, and perhaps earlier, I began to assess possible retirement sites and to determine how they would fill my retirement needs. Once we started thinking that we might retire in Paris (around 2002), we began taking French classes at the Alliance Française in Denver. My plan was based primarily on financial considerations. I think it took a little longer to implement than I had anticipated because of the substantial stock market losses in the preceding years. My husband and I purchased our apartment in Paris in 2006 and retired in 2012, so it took about six years from the first concrete step toward retirement in Paris until our actual retirement.

InQ: What sort of obstacles to your plan cropped up, and did you ever think about reversing course?

Anne: The only obstacles that arose were the fluctuations in the stock market and the effect that they had on our ability to have sufficient funds to retire. The only strategies we could employ were to work longer so that we would have additional financial resources, given the volatility of the stock market. Although we had at one time had a law firm that included eight attorneys, in addition to ourselves and numerous staff, we had downsized in anticipation of retirement. So, the only person who was affected by our retirement was our longtime secretary. Fortunately, she was considering plans to stop working, so it worked out well for us and for her.

We did not ever think about reversing course. I think we’d had personally satisfying careers in the legal profession, but we were ready for a change. We had reached a stage in our lives where we wanted to indulge our interests in art, photography, and jazz. We also wanted the opportunity to travel.

InQ: Some say that the biggest obstacles to retreating from the full-time practice are the inability to imagine what life would be like not practicing law full-time, fears of not being able to fill the time, and not having enough money later in life. Did any of these factors affect your thinking?

Anne: I think that for most people who spend the majority of their adult life working at a profession, their sense of self is inextricably woven with their professional life. Thus, I do think that the idea of “not having a profession, not being a lawyer” can be daunting. As to the notion that one will not be able to fill the time, I can only say that we are as busy as or busier than we were when we were practicing law. We have organized our nonprofessional life much as we organized our professional life. The difference is that we are now free to pursue our own interests rather than the interests of our clients. In my opinion, it is essential to try to be as organized in retirement as one was when practicing law. In other words, we have a schedule that includes working out, taking classes, attending lectures, visiting museums, etcetera. We tend to organize our week in retirement much as we organized our agenda when we were trial attorneys.

InQ: What about financial concerns?

Anne: Certainly, there are always financial concerns. Of course, individuals with a pension may have fewer financial concerns than those who were self-employed and who must rely on their investments to fund their retirement. Obviously, there is always going to be uncertainty. I think that one needs to balance the regret of not having enjoyed a change of lifestyle against the possibility that one may not be able to maintain that lifestyle into very old age.

InQ: How did your significant other react during the course of you exploring options other than the full-time practice of law?

Anne: I was fortunate that my husband was as keen to be retired as I was. He was a full partner in the decision to retire as soon as it was financially feasible. He manages our finances and his competence in that regard made retirement a reality for us. My husband and I practiced law as partners for twenty-five years, so we were used to making decisions as a team. We had the advantage of having run a business as a team. I think that this business experience spilled over into our personal relationship. I feel that we have always made decisions in our personal lives as a team. I can quite honestly say that neither one of us has ever had veto power over the choices of the other. There were not any tensions resulting from our retreating from the full-time practice of law.

InQ: How, if at all, did having children affect your decision-making process?

Anne: Because we do not have children, I think our decision to leave the United States was easier. I think that having children would impact one’s decision-making process, if one had financial responsibilities toward those children. However, aging parents are also a consideration. In our case, my mother-in law, who was in the beginning stages of dementia, came to live with us in 2009. By 2010, her condition had deteriorated and we placed her in a nursing home within walking distance of our home. Luckily, she remembered my husband and me, but unfortunately she had no other memory. After consideration, we decided that we would go to Paris as planned in 2012. Our plan was to place my mother-in-law in a facility in Florida near my brother. She had retired to Florida and still had friends there who would visit her. Additionally, my family also would visit periodically. We would make two extended visits to Florida per year to spend time with her. However, she died in the fall of 2011 at the age of 89. I think that aged parents may be more of a concern for many potential retirees than children, especially if they are financially responsible for the parent.

InQ: What sort of activities have you embraced to fill the time you formerly devoted to the full-time practice of law? How satisfying have those activities been, and have you run into any unexpected issues arising from engaging in them?

Anne: We have been very actively engaged in many pursuits since our retirement. We are also actively involved in improving our French, and we are making a new circle of friends in Paris. Of course, this requires us to be sociable and to explore new venues where we might meet people to befriend. I believe this is a real plus in retirement. I think constant exploration is the key to a successful retirement and more important for a fulfilling life.

InQ: During your decision-making and decision-implementing process, what mistakes, if any, do you feel you made?

Anne: I’m sure we made some mistakes, but none of them were significant enough to have impacted our retirement plans. I can honestly say that I would not have done anything differently, except that I might have worked harder on honing my skills in French while I was planning for retirement.

InQ: What assumptions did you make that turned out to be mostly or wholly incorrect?

Anne: I thought I would miss having a professional identification and that I would have more time to pursue other interests than I actually have.

InQ: How happy were you when practicing law full-time? How happy are you now?

Anne: I was happy practicing law and I am happy now.

InQ: How much did financial considerations influence your decision to retreat from the full-time practice of law?

Anne: Obviously, financial considerations do play a large part in the decision to retire, to stop working outside the home, or to change careers. I think financial considerations did delay our retirement. In the end, I think we made the right decision for us, and I think we gave financial considerations the right amount of weight.

Is There a Better Exit Strategy Than Death?—Part I: The Interviews: Roxanne Jensen—Balancing Work and Family While Staying Engaged and Challenged

Editor’s Note: This article appeared in the August 2014 issue of The Colorado Lawyer. This is the third part of a 5-part series on Legal Connection. Click here for the introduction, click here for an interview with Kyle Velte, and stay tuned for more interviews.

Sandgrund-JensenBy Ronald M. Sandgrund, Esq., InQ.

InQ.: Roxanne, how old were you when you first felt that practicing law was what you wanted do as a career? How old were you when you first had serious thoughts about exiting the full-time practice of law? What prompted this change in your thinking?

Roxanne: I first thought I wanted to practice law when I was 22, and I started practicing full-time at 25. I continued to practice full-time until I was 38, when I had my first child. At 42, I had my third child and recognized that my firm’s international law practice was changing, becoming highly specialized, and that significant travel was required to put the right person in the right place at the right time for the clients. I thought I would try to find a way to regulate my work schedule more significantly, perhaps by teaming with lawyers who could handle a more significant travel load.

InQ.: So, what happened?

Roxanne: At some point, after having three kids, I simply realized that for our family, I needed to be more present. Although every family is different, my kids needed me to commit to a career path that would require less travel. My law practice at Morrison & Foerster absolutely and justifiably required significant travel responsibilities. My initial plan was to do contract work for lawyers until the kids were a bit older. I was able to start doing contract work pretty much right away, mostly for my former law partners.

InQ.: How did that go?

Roxanne: The plan worked, but I wasn’t satisfied without having more entrepreneurial, creative input into my work. So, I started looking around for a more committing framework, with less travel obligations—something more focused and sustained than project work, with long-term goals, and seeing matters or ideas through to completion. Contract work often doesn’t fill that need. Meanwhile, I missed practice in Big Law terribly—and I still miss it. The quality of practice and the caliber of my colleagues were unmatched. I’ll never find more fulfillment in a job than I did at Morrison & Foerster, including my several years as its Denver managing partner. I thought many times about re-engaging in the practice, but I knew the travel obligations would overwhelm me and my family.

InQ.: It seems that you gave some thought to reversing course; did you do so?

Roxanne: No, I didn’t, but I changed course again to find something more committing. In 2007, I left the practice of law and joined a national legal recruiting firm, to start their division for Lateral Partners and Firm Mergers. I grew that division very profitably. However, over time, I recognized that adding owners to law firms was not a staffing issue, but a strategic one. I exited the recruiting world to join the consulting world in 2011. I currently own EvolveLaw, a strategic consulting LLC, helping law firms set and execute growth strategies (including mergers and acquisitions) and refine their business models in a changing and challenging legal services marketplace. I also am a managing director with Catapult Growth Partners, a professional services consulting group that provides strategic planning, business development, and executive recruiting services.

InQ.: Some obstacles that lawyers face when retreating from full-time practice include not being able to imagine life not practicing law full-time, fearing not being able to fill the time, and dreading not having enough money. What do you think of each of these suggested impediments?

Roxanne: For me, there are always creative professional possibilities; I’ve never felt limited to practicing law, or concerned about how to fill my time. Being valued financially and professionally is important, so of course I have felt some need to use my gifts and experience well to serve and be compensated appropriately.

InQ.: How did your significant other react during the course of you exploring options other than the full-time practice of law?

Roxanne: Despite being by nature somewhat less entrepreneurial than I, my spouse has been fabulously supportive while I’ve remade myself professionally.

InQ.: Did any tensions arise between you and others, including your children, co-workers, and significant other, as a result of you withdrawing from the full-time practice of law?

Roxanne: No.

InQ.: Looking back, what, if anything, would you do differently?

Roxanne: I would think more entrepreneurially and creatively right away, instead of “ramping down” my practice by doing contract work.

InQ.: What assumptions did you make that turned out to be mostly or wholly incorrect?

Roxanne: I assumed my highest and best use would be in legal practice, when my training and gifts were in fact suited for a broad range of possibilities.

InQ.: How happy were you when practicing law full-time versus how happy are you now?

Roxanne: I loved the practice of law; but I’m also very happy now, using my many years of practice and management and my strategic thinking skills to help firms position well in the market.

InQ.: How much did financial considerations influence your decision to retreat from the full-time practice of law?

Roxanne: Not at all.

Third Annual Running Past Our Limits Update (Part Three): Mission Impossible

rhodesA friend who’d been involved with making a documentary film got interested in my running regime. We shot a video one fine day last October. It’s short: 7:15. Go ahead, we’ll wait while you watch it.

The video begins with me challenging our conventional notions of what’s possible and what’s not. “Impossible is just a label we put on things,” I say. “It’s state of mind. There are people doing impossible things everyday. I think it’s time we all stop believing in impossible.”

The idea that “impossible” might not be hack-proof was first embedded in me at a Cirque du Soleil show called Varekai, which premiered a year and a half after 9-11.The Varekai story is loosely based on the Icarus myth: the manmade wings and failed flight too close to the sun, the familiar parable of the human race outstripping its own aspirations and crashing down in its pride.

Yes, humans can’t fly like birds; we all know that. But Varekai went beyond the myth and ended in triumph. Pride was forgiven, love and courage restored the fallen, and the joy of aspiration and the magic of the dream were reclaimed. The impossible became possible.

Dominic Champagne, writer and director of Varekai, began his program notes with these words:

Puisque les temps sont fous Since these are crazy times
Et que nous avons le devoir And it is our duty
De ne pas abandonner le monde To not surrender the world
Aux main des nullités Into the hands of fools
Je fais le vœu que ce spectacle soit pour vous I wish that this show may be for you
Comme il a été pour moi As it has been for me
Une célébration A celebration
De la rencontre des fraternités Of the coming together of friends
Et de la joie des dépassements And of the joy of challenging limits
Pour dire au monde In order to tell the world
Que quelque chose d’autre est possible That something else is possible

 

I put those program notes in a frame that still hangs on my wall. I live them everyday. They inspire me, keep me centered, keep reminding me that something else is possible.

We want things that appear to be impossible. Maybe they aren’t. Maybe the only reason they’re impossible is because we haven’t done them yet. Okay, so we ran a search of our brain’s memory data base and it came up “no match found.” No big deal. That doesn’t mean what we want is impossible on some grand cosmic level; maybe it’s a possibility waiting for us to make it happen.

I feel that way about my personal impossible of overcoming MS with exercise. I’m sure the other people in the video felt that way about their impossibles, too. And yet they did them, just like I intend to do mine.

The video ends with a series of questions: How about you? What’s your impossible? What would you be like if you did it? What would our world be like?

If you haven’t done it yet, go ahead and watch the video now. You’ll be inspired, I promise.

To be continued.

Seven years ago, Kevin Rhodes left his law practice to start a creative venture. His reflections on what happened next appear in an article about law career exit strategies in the August issue of The Colorado Lawyer (here’s the introduction, and here’s the article). His new ebook, Life Beyond Reason: A Memoir of Mania, chronicles his misadventures and lessons learned, and is available as a FREE download at iTunes, Barnes & Noble, Scribd, or wherever else you normally get ebooks. Or follow this link to the distributor’s page, where it’s available as a FREE download in all formats — phone, Kindle, as a PDF, etc. You can email Kevin at kevin@rhodeslaw.com.

Is There a Better Exit Strategy Than Death?—Part I: The Interviews: Kyle Velte—Less Stress, More Time With Her Children

Editor’s Note: This article appeared in the August 2014 issue of The Colorado Lawyer. This is the second part of a 5-part series on Legal Connection. Click here for the introduction, and stay tuned for more interviews.

Sandgrund-VelteBy Ronald M. Sandgrund, Esq., InQ.

The Inquiring Lawyer (InQ.): Kyle, how old were you when you first felt that practicing law was what you wanted to do as a career?

Kyle: I did not think about practicing law until after college and I entered the working world. I had planned on being a college professor, and I was taking a few years off before applying to PhD programs. I worked at the National Organization for Women in Washington, DC, where one of my jobs was to run the internship program. As part of that program, I took interns to a U.S. Supreme Court argument. One of the arguments I saw was Romer v. Evans. When I saw Jean Dubofsky argue on behalf of the gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender plaintiffs, I then and there decided to go to law school and become a lawyer.

InQ.: How old were you when you started practicing law full-time?

Kyle: I had two judicial clerkships after law school—one at the age of 28, the other at 30. (I completed an LLM in between clerkships.) I entered a firm when I was 31.

InQ.: How long did you practice law full-time?

Kyle: Nine years.

InQ.: How old were you when you first had any serious thoughts about exiting the full-time practice of law? Did something in particular prompt this thought?

Kyle: A few years into practice—around the age of 35—I began thinking about exiting to teach law. My pre-law school plan had been to be a college professor, so teaching law always loomed in the back of my mind as something I would like to do.

InQ.: How old were you when you first started making concrete plans to exit the full-time practice of law, and what was your thought process?

Kyle: When I was 40 years old (eight-and-a-half years into practice), I had the chance to teach an adjunct class at the University of Denver School of Law (Denver Law). I did that while continuing to practice full-time. I loved teaching. My thought process was to try adjunct teaching first, before deciding to make the big move, to see if I really did like it as much as I expected to. I did.

InQ.: Why did you want to leave the full-time practice of law?

Kyle: For several reasons. Although I was in a regional, mid-sized litigation firm, where my focus was commercial litigation, with fantastic colleagues and interesting and engaging work, I was growing tired of litigation as a whole. The constant conflict and stress, the travel, and the unpredictable and sometimes very large number of hours (particularly around trial) began to wear me down. In addition, I have children and wanted a more consistent, less stressful job to spend more time with them.

InQ.: Did you develop any sort of plan as to how to accomplish this goal?

Kyle: My plan was to try to teach as an adjunct first. I was able to do that, which in turn led me to my current position at Denver Law.

InQ.: How long did you expect it would take you to implement your plan?

Kyle: I wasn’t entirely sure. I had planned to continue teaching as an adjunct while practicing for at least as long as it took me to write and publish a law review article, which is highly encouraged to enter academia. However, I didn’t have to wait even that long, because my current position opened just a few months after I finished teaching my first adjunct class. I just got lucky on timing. The position I’m currently in opened in the fall of 2011, and I finished teaching my adjunct class in April 2011. I saw the opening, applied, and by November 2011, I was a full-time faculty member of Denver Law’s Legal Externship Program.

InQ.: What sort of obstacles cropped up, if any, impeding the plan’s implementation?

Kyle: The biggest obstacle was financial: figuring out how to manage a significant pay cut.

InQ.: How well did you manage this obstacle, and what strategies did you employ?

Kyle: I worked with a financial planner and figured out a way to make the financial transition.

InQ.: At any point in the process of implementing your plan, did you think about reversing course?

Kyle: Only briefly, when the financial obstacle had not been overcome. But I never reversed course. Except for a pro bono matter that ended in March 2013, I have not practiced law since November 2011.

InQ.: Some say that the biggest obstacle to retreating from the full-time practice of the law is the inability to imagine what life would be like not practicing law full-time. Others say it is a fear of not being able to fill the time. Still others say it is a concern of not having enough money later in life. What do you think of each of these suggested impediments and how, if at all, did they affect your thinking?

Kyle: The first two concerns never entered my mind. I knew that I would find enjoyable and fulfilling work in teaching law. The money issue was the biggest challenge, and it gave me great pause.

InQ.: How did your significant other—if you had one—react during the course of exploring options other than the full-time practice of law?

Kyle: As a single parent without a significant other, making this change was a particular challenge for me. No matter how wonderful a private firm is, litigation never stops, and when you’re in trial, everything else in your life comes to a standstill. Now that I am out of practice, I have a very predictable schedule; my stress level is way lower (which makes me a better parent); and I’m much more involved in my kids’ lives, volunteering in the classroom, chaperoning field trips, being home at night to help with homework, etcetera.

InQ.: What sort of activities have you embraced to fill the time you formerly devoted to the full-time practice of law, and how satisfying have those activities been?

Kyle: I still work full-time, so there is no need to fill any time. In addition, because I am no longer a litigator and no longer have a billable-hours requirement, I have been able to do more than when I was practicing. I now sit on four boards of directors and I am active in specialty bar associations.

InQ.: During your decision-making and decision-implementing process, what mistakes, if any, do you feel you made?

Kyle: Looking back, I don’t have any regrets and don’t feel like I made any mistakes.

InQ.: What, if anything, would you do differently?

Kyle: Nothing!

InQ.: What assumptions did you make that turned out to be mostly or wholly incorrect?

Kyle: I had assumed that it would be difficult to find an opportunity outside practice that would still be engaging to me and also one for which I would be qualified. However, I also assumed that if I were to find such a position, I would be able to find a fulfilling and satisfying professional experience outside practice. The first assumption was wrong: there are, contrary to my assumption, many non-practice opportunities that are engaging, interesting, and fulfilling, and for which practicing attorneys will be given serious consideration. My assumption that I could be professionally satisfied outside practice was completely accurate. In fact, I’m more satisfied now.

InQ.: Did any tensions arise between you and others, including your children, as a result of you retreating from the full-time practice of law?

Kyle: No.

InQ.: How happy were you when practicing law full-time and how happy are you now?

Kyle: I was content while practicing and sometimes happy. I am extremely happy with my career now, and often think to myself: “I really love my job and am so lucky to have it.”

InQ.: How much did financial considerations influence your decision to retreat from the full-time practice of law?

Kyle: As noted above, it was an obstacle—and a scary one—but I overcame it and have learned lessons about what I really need to be happy.

InQ.: In retrospect, did you give financial considerations too much, too little, or just the right amount of weight?

Kyle: Just the right amount.

InQ.: How, if at all, did having children affect your decision-making process?

Kyle: It impacted it for sure, because I had to make sure that I could still provide for them. Once I figured that out, I knew that leaving the practice of law would be a big benefit to them, as well as to me.

Third Annual Running Past Our Limits Update (Part Two): A day (and Week) in the Life of an MS Athlete

rhodesSomeone told me about MS Fitness Challenge. Great organization; you should check them out. The founder David Lyons is in showbiz, so they get a lot of celebrity endorsements. David did a terrific interview of me for his blog. I just looked at it again, and it gave me the idea for this post.

All MS athletes share symptoms that would stop us if we let them. The trick is to make them irrelevant. Well-meaning people at the gym sometimes ask how I’m feeling, whether I’m having a good or bad day. I’ve learned to pause and explain that I don’t think in those terms. They aren’t helpful. If I paid attention to how I feel, I’d never show up, and I sure wouldn’t keep going when it gets tough.

And it does get tough. You do this, you suffer. Not whining, just sayin’.

The MS symptoms create practical challenges beyond the workout itself, too — like getting off the machine when I’m done. I can barely walk; it takes all my focus to cross about 20 feet to sit down. I drag myself along and hope nobody is noticing, and one time I took a facer. Lately I’ve been wondering if I should just bring my cane. Same thing with walking down the stairs to leave the building. These days I mostly take the elevator.

I work out 5 days a week on average, with goals for every workout and for the week. I alternate strength, stamina, and speed workouts, and something I call “heart elasticity” training. (Did one of those yesterday. Two hours all out. Looked like I was standing under a rain spout, which is something for a guy with MS, because one of things you lose is your body’s ability to cool itself. Guess my training has reversed that.)

The differences in workouts are a matter of metrics: varying machine settings such as stride height, length, and resistance, and watching how they interact with body metrics such as stride frequency, target heartbeat, breathing pattern, even how much I sweat. On stamina runs I can zone out, but the other workouts require constant attention, changing the machine settings and monitoring body metrics.

Daily workouts are a couple hours, weekends take longer, but training is really 24/7. It’s a whole, integrated practice embracing details like how much I sleep and when and what I eat. Mostly, there’s an action/recovery cycle to be observed. Cut corners, you suffer. Like I said…

The weekly cycle culminates in a major weekend workout. This past Sunday I went three hours, in one-hour segments. The first was for speed, the second (my fastest, as is usually the case) for combined speed and strength, and the third for stamina. Around 2:50:00 I hit the point where my right foot spazzes out so entirely it turns out like a ballet dancer’s. I’ve learned to pull it back straight by sheer focus, and can keep it there for 20 minutes; on Sunday I only had to deal with it for the final 10.

The Open Stride machine is stingy about mileage: best I can tell, it credits just under half what a regular elliptical machine gives you. Sunday it gave me 15.35 begrudging miles — not much to show for 3 hours and 2,000 calories. Curiously, when I go that hard that long, my feet and legs often work better than they do after a shorter workout. That was the case yesterday.

So I took the stairs instead of the elevator.

To be continued.

Seven years ago, Kevin Rhodes left his law practice to start a creative venture. His reflections on what happened next appear in an article about law career exit strategies in the August issue of The Colorado Lawyer (here’s the introduction, and here’s the article). His new ebook, Life Beyond Reason: A Memoir of Mania, chronicles his misadventures and lessons learned, and is available as a FREE download at iTunes, Barnes & Noble, Scribd, or wherever else you normally get ebooks. Or follow this link to the distributor’s page, where it’s available as a FREE download in all formats — phone, Kindle, as a PDF, etc. You can email Kevin at kevin@rhodeslaw.com.

Enlightenment Made Simple (Part Six): More About Pivoting

rhodes(For more about entrepreneurial pivoting, check out The Art of the Pivot in the May/June 2014 issue of Inc. Magazine.)

We rarely seek enlightenment and the things we want from it — peace, meaning, fulfillment, and all the rest — for their own sake. We’re not in the habit of doing nice things like that for ourselves. Instead, we justify our quest by embracing some noble and idealistic and altruistic vision. We’ll make life better for ourselves, but we’ll also help someone else while we’re at it. Thinking that way gets us off the dime, makes us willing to defy the odds and the gods.

It’s a good way to start, but it won’t sustain us, especially when the resistance we meet makes it obvious why we haven’t done this before, or why we failed when we tried. Not that there’s anything wrong with wanting to make an impact in the world, but those ambitions take their cues from outside ourselves: we’re focused on changing something, instead of changing someone — namely the person who lives inside our own skin. As long as we maintain that external orientation, our status-quo-loving and change-resistant brains will be quick to turn tail when things turn tough.

And they will turn tough. Enlightenment is an inside job that’s harshly unsympathetic to whether the externals are lining up to support our grand visions. In fact, it’s usually the case that we’ve barely taken a few baby steps when the path to Paradise plunges us into the cavernous muck where ruined dreams rot.

We need to pivot in order to move on from that place. In physical terms, pivoting is rotating around a still central axis. In entrepreneurial terms, pivoting is what we do when we find out the market doesn’t want our brilliant ideas. In enlightenment terms, pivoting is what we do when we find ourselves wallowing in the mess we created in the name of doing something awesome with our lives. Entrepreneurial and enlightened pivoting rotate around the center of what we’re really after and who we really are. The externals spin and blur, but not the core.

Our enlightenment quest takes us to that core. Along the way, we detach from ego, which is necessary because, if truth be told, our plans to save the world were probably just a spiffed-up version of ego. Ego is immobilized down in that creepy chasm; it becomes dead weight we need to jettison if we’re going to make it through. And often, when we get rid of ego, the vision goes with it.

That doesn’t mean our grand visions won’t ever come to fruition. They might, but you can bet it won’t be the way we originally envisioned, or because ego wrangled them into being. If they come to pass at all, it will be because they resonate deeply with our core selves. Find that core, and pivoting is both possible and powerful: execute that one swift, nifty move, and suddenly we’re unstuck and unleashing whole new worlds of creativity that make surprising things happen.

Then another wonderful thing happens: enlightenment hands us our bag of swag, full of peace, freedom, and all the rest. And we find ourselves living the truth of that inspirational saying that it’s not about making change happen, it’s about becoming the change we wish to make.

And by the way, was that a paraphrase just now of something Gandhi said? Or was it Thoreau? Or maybe Nelson Mandela? If you’re wondering, you’ll enjoy this article about what they really said, and where those inspirational sayings really come from.

Kevin Rhodes has been a lawyer for nearly 30 years, in firms large and small, and in solo practice. Years ago he left his law practice to start a creative venture, and his reflections on that topic will appear in an upcoming article in the August and September issues of The Colorado Lawyer. His new ebook, Life Beyond Reason: A Memoir of Mania, chronicles his misadventures and lessons learned, which are the foundation of much of what he writes about here. Follow this link for a FREE book download (available in all formats — phone, Kindle, as a pdf. etc.). You can email Kevin at kevin@rhodeslaw.com.