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On Life with One Hand by Keiron McCammon

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Don’t Quit The Day Job (Just Yet)

August 28, 2017 by keiron Leave a Comment

…or how to go from idea to founding team before you do.

Much has been written about how important “team” is to the success of a startup and surely no team is more important than the founding team. If true, then why is it that so many entrepreneurs look to blind luck or happenstance as they go about building one? I know that I have been guilty of spending more time interviewing and vetting a potential employee than I did a co-founder.

Courtesy of https://bradyenterpriseassociation.com/

I’ve been fortunate to be part of the founding teams for three startups in Silicon Valley, with my third landing me in New York (post-acquisition) three years ago. Since then I’ve had the pleasure of meeting many New York entrepreneurs embarking on their first entrepreneurial journeys. All of them, without fail, have an idea they are passionate about. Some may have already quit their day job to chase their dream. A few might have raised some seed funding to help finance it. What I find most surprising though, is that rarely is there an established founding team. Invariably, I meet solo entrepreneurs looking to build a team. If this is you read on.

Thanks to Steve Blank and Eric Ries of Lean Startup fame, there is plenty to read on how to develop your business or product. But how should you approach developing a founding team? There is little doubt that going it alone stacks the odds against you. Based on a survey of 650 companies, the 2012 Startup Genome Report identified that “solo founders take 3.6x longer to reach scale stage compared to a founding team of 2 and they are 2.3x less likely to pivot” (the latter being of particular relevance given the report also identified that “startups that pivot once or twice raise 2.5x more money, have 3.6x better user growth and are 52% less likely to scale prematurely than startups that pivot more than 2 times or not at all”).

The best time to start building a founding team is long before you quit your day job and a great way to start is with a Kitchen Cabinet. No, not that kind of cabinet. The term Kitchen Cabinet was coined in the 1800’s during Andrew Jackson’s presidency of the United States. It was used to describe a collection of unofficial advisers he consulted (to the chagrin of some) in parallel to the United States Cabinet. As you search for like-minded individuals that might have an interest in your idea, instead of asking them to quit their well-paying jobs at Google or Facebook to join you as a co-founder and work for no salary until you can (hopefully) raise some funding, instead pitch them your idea and see if they’d be willing to dedicate a few hours a week to kick the tires on it.

You’re looking for people with complementary skills or experience to your own. People with differing perspectives that can act as a sounding board and question your beliefs and assumptions, all in the name of honing your idea into a well-formulated business opportunity. To be clear, this isn’t someone you have to pay. A software development partner or consultant willing to build your product for cash and/or equity doesn’t qualify, they come with their own agenda. And you should be upfront with everyone that there is no guarantee that anything will come of their efforts. They aren’t committing to joining you should you start something and you aren’t committing that they would be part of it, even if you did. Of course, the whole point of the exercise is to be on the lookout for a potential co-founder or early hire, but that bridge could be six or nine months away. Your Kitchen Cabinet will force you to get your idea out of your head and subject it to the critical thinking of others while the risks are still low; after all, no one has given up their day job yet. And you’ll get a chance to work with people you may later wish to partner with (or not as the case may be).

I first got exposed to the concept of a Kitchen Cabinet in 2004 thanks to Manish Chandra, (currently Founder/CEO of Poshmark). He had an idea for a collaborative bookmarking site, yet as a first-time entrepreneur faced the challenge of how to build a founding team around it. Over a period of nine months or more he invited over a dozen individuals, people he’d worked with, friends, and friends of friends, to meet at his house on Saturday mornings to discuss, conceptualize and prototype what ultimately became Kaboodle (acquired by Hearst Corporation in 2007). I was one of those individuals who gave up their Saturday mornings to refine the idea and many months later took a leap of faith and gave up my day job to start Kaboodle with Manish and Chetan (another Kitchen Cabinet member). By then we’d all had a chance to work together vetting the idea, researching solutions and building prototypes. Manish got to observe who was committed, who contributed beyond a few hours at the weekend and who might fit culturally. And, there was an added bonus, since there’s nothing quite like a bit of co-creation to bind a founding team together. I’ve used the Kitchen Cabinet multiple times to good effect. My only regret is the one time I didn’t.

But, what if you aren’t able to find anyone to join your Kitchen Cabinet? Well, either your idea isn’t very compelling, or you aren’t very compelling I’m afraid. Either way, you should stop and reevaluate what you are doing. If you can’t even get a couple of people to give up a few hours a week to work on your idea what makes you think you could successfully attract investors, employees or customers later on?

And no-one is going to steal your idea. I hate to break the bad news, but ideas are two-a-penny. What matters is execution. Taking the acorn of an idea and growing it into an oak tree is indescribably hard and any thoughts you share today will evolve so much between now and your ultimate success, that the risk of someone stealing your idea and getting it right is comparatively low compared to the risk of keeping it to yourself and going it alone. And, once you’ve incorporated, you can protect your company’s intellectual property by making anyone who contributed to its early development an advisor; in exchange for advisory shares, they assign all intellectual property over. A just reward for those in the Kitchen Cabinet that helped get the company started, yet, for whatever reason, wasn’t able to jump on board.

I share my Kitchen Cabinet story with entrepreneurs, usually, after they have told me how great their idea is and, with an expectant look, continue on to say that they just need to find a great CTO to join them as a co-founder. Sell me on your idea. Enlist me in your cause. Invite me to join your Kitchen Cabinet by all means. Just don’t ask me to be your co-founder the first time we meet. That’s like asking someone to marry you on a first date.

Taking Care of Unfinished Business

July 30, 2017 by keiron Leave a Comment

Ironman Lake Placid Finish
Ironman Lake Placid Finish

A year and one week ago I should have been completing my third Ironman triathlon in Lake Placid, New York. Alas, it was not meant to be, after months of hard training, a bike accident five weeks before race day ended with a broken collarbone and shattered dreams.

A year later, on July 23rd, 2017 the cold shrill of my iPhone alarm cuts into my restless dream that I’d overslept and missed the start of the race. It was time to take care of some unfinished business. As I lay on the ground last year after being run off the road by a white delivery van, feeling the break in my collarbone with my right hand and realizing my Ironman ambitions were done for, I had no shadow of a doubt that I’d be back to try again this year, to not do so was inconceivable. However, it’s been tough training at Ironman intensity for the second year in a row. There’s a reason for the three-year gap between my races to date. It takes a year for me to recover from the incessant training schedule, a year to forget the pain of the whole ordeal and a year to train for my next Ironman after the brilliant idea pops back into my head that I should do another one. I struggled the early part of this year with my motivation level; my usual iron will deserting me as I failed to build any training rhythm until April, at which point I was three months behind schedule. “Oh well,” I thought to myself, “no chance I’m going to be overtrained for this race.”

All through April, May, June and right up to race day the specter of last year’s accident clung to me like a homunculus. The slightest wobble on my bike or awkward step on a run flooded me with thoughts of falling and breaking or twisting something. Yet, here I am at 4 am race morning, undertrained for sure, but fighting fit and ready to swim 2.4 miles in Mirror Lake, bike 112 miles through the Adirondacks and run 26.2 miles out and back from Lake Placid. The oldest Ironman event in the U.S. outside of the World Championship in Kona, Hawaii, Lake Placid is recognized as both a beautiful and daunting course with close to 7000 feet of climbing on the bike and over 1600 feet of climbing on the run.

Today though, the weather gods delivered a near perfect day, overcast and slightly cool. Quite a relief since earlier forecasts had called for rain and even thunderstorms. Waves of anticipation, or perhaps trepidation, churned my stomach as I stood on the shore of Mirror Lake surrounded by close to 2500 other wetsuit-clad Ironman wannabes of all shapes, sizes, and ages. Blocked by the mass of bodies lay the 1.2-mile swim course, the lake was an official 74 oF, quite balmy compared to the sub 60 oF temperatures of my last Ironman in Lake Tahoe. The ringing blast of a cannon marks 6:30 am and the start of the race for the pro field. Ten minutes later, a second blast signals the start for the rest of us. I cautiously, yet optimistically, have seeded myself towards the back of the wave of athletes hoping to finish their swim in under one and a half hours, a satisfying time for me given I only have the one hand. The mass of bodies ahead of me begins to jostle its way towards the swim start, I fit my goggles and sneak one last look at the line of yellow buoys marking the first leg of the course, thrashing swimmers already stretching away into the distance.

I have one goal in mind, to get on and stay on the underwater cable that extends the entire length of the course. About four feet under the surface this guideline will keep me swimming true instead of my usual zig zagging that I tend to do. Of course, I’m not the only one with this thought in mind, and so the battle begins to see who can claim the line as theirs. Triathlon swims are not for the faint-hearted, I’ve been kicked, grabbed, swam over and even had my shoulder dislocated in the melee of a swim start. A little argy-bargy secures my position just to the left of the line, and onwards I swim, head down. A thousand yards out a red buoy marks the first 90o turn and all the swimmers who have been swimming parallel with me now converge to make the turn. Like spawning fish in a shallow pool, we jostle into and over each other, pulling and pushing to make it past the constriction point. Keep calm. Keep breathing. A left hook catches me off guard and unseats my goggles, flooding my right side. No time to stop. Keep calm. Keep breathing. Keep swimming. Stop, and the hoard of swimmers behind me will bury me alive. Fifty yards and the second red buoy marks the next 90o turn and the straightaway back to the start. I focus on maintaining my position over the underwater cable, swimming into each of the eight yellow buoys marking the course and rounding the end of the pier to swim to the beach. Ahead and beside me, swimmers sway in unison as they emerge from the water on unsure legs and run the twenty sandy yards to enter the water again for the second loop. Glancing at my watch I spy my time is 42 minutes, if I can maintain this pace, it’ll be my fastest swim ever. I continue to count my strokes as I head back down the course, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 1, 2, 3…and, so it goes on, looping over and over, distracting my mind from the exertion of the swim. The red turn buoy approaches again, and this time I make it past unscathed. Around the second red buoy and just the final straight to go. Wham! An errant fist unseats my goggles, and I have no choice but to pause and reseat them. Looking at my wrist, I see my time; I’ve slowed down compared to the first loop. “Come on, swim harder, nearly there.” My counting accelerates as my strokes increase from 36 to 38 per minute.

Ironman Lake Placid Swim Exit
End of The Swim

I stumble out of the water on to the beach and across the timing mat laid in the sand, 1 hour 29 minutes, only two minutes slower than my fastest swim and that was in Cozumel with a current. My water-logged and deadened ears come alive with the cheering and screaming of the spectators surrounding the beach and lining the chute to the transition area. Ahead, swimmers, in various states of disrobement, lay on the ground as volunteers tug and pull their wetsuits off. In no time I’m running along the beach with my wetsuit in hand or rather stump and weave around the athletes that are taking in the spectacle of it all. It’s 8:20 am.

Entering a sauna of a changing tent that is chock full of steaming bodies intensely focused on the job at hand, I grab the first empty chair I see close to the entrance and strip off my tri suit and dry myself with my trusty blue microfiber towel. No time to waste—the memory of my 24-minute transition in Lake Tahoe haunts me. Bike shorts on, bike jersey on, prosthetic arm on, helmet on, I’m ready to go. Stuffing my wetsuit and swim gear into my transition bag, I hand it to a volunteer and jog to the far end of the tent and into the fresh morning air, “maybe I should have put that base layer on after all,” but there’s no time for second thoughts now.

The bike racks, once chock full of bikes are now half empty. I’ve got some catching up to do despite a strong swim; only having the one hand will always put me at a disadvantage on the swim. A quick pit stop to relieve myself of the lake water unintentionally guzzled and I grab my bike to mount up for the 112-mile ride. Out of transition, a short downhill gives me a few moments to collect my thoughts after the bustle of transition. The words I read this morning from my coach, Paul, are foremost in my mind:

…you should be able to target 130-135 watts on the bike and still be able to have an effective run…[this] should feel very easy at the beginning of the bike and progressively feel harder as the 112 miles progresses, but never to the point that it feels unsustainable.

— Paul

Now my months of training kick in, and it’s all down to my nutrition, pace and discipline on the bike. Go too hard on the bike and my run will fall apart, just as I’d experienced with my first Ironman in Cozumel in 2010, I pushed hard, clocking a time of 6 hours 46 minutes, yet I cratered on the run, walking the last 8 miles. I have a trick up my sleeve, my new PowerTap P1 Pedals that allow me to monitor my power output through the ride, “the key is to pedal steady, with as few spikes as possible,” admonishes Paul in my mind. Not easy on a course with nearly 7000 feet of climbing and the climbing begins at mile three. If it weren’t for my power pedals I’d be pushing over 200 watts to keep up with the riders passing me. Instead, I hold back. “Just you wait,” I mutter as each rider passes me on the hill, “let’s see how chipper you feel on the second loop.” Discipline is telling me to ride my own race and not worry about anyone else; there’s still 100 miles of riding ahead and a marathon to boot. My ego rails against this cage with each passing rider. Cresting the hill at mile 10, I shift gears and climbing gives way to a 45 mph, sphincter tightening descent into the village of Keane. My rented 808 Zipp race wheels (with very wide rims) magnify each gust of wind, shaking my bike and pushing me towards the meridian as every muscle in my body braces nervously. At least I’m passing other riders as I tuck down on my aerobars to minimize wind resistance. The resonant “whoosh, whoosh” of my Zipp wheels and dull reverberating clunk of every gear change ring out. Even if they don’t make me go any faster, these wheels sure sound good.

Ironman Lake Placid Bike Course
End of the First Bike Loop

At the bottom of the descent, I enter Keane and make a left hand turn onto the relatively flat 20-mile ride past Jay to the turnaround at Ausable Forks and back to Jay again before a long, hard slog uphill to Lake Placid. This relatively flat 20-mile stretch is my favorite part of the course, no traffic lights, no stop signs; an opportunity to crouch into my aerobars, put my head down and pedal. Such a delight after months of training rides out of Manhattan, over the George Washington Bridge and along 9W, with its incessant stops and never-ending traffic. I keep my power output in the 135-140 watt range and constantly sip water, pop salted pistachios and nibble my Juice Press Gladiator Cookies. Nutrition, pace, and discipline. Maintaining an intake of 200-300 calories an hour is going to get harder as the day progresses. Approaching mile 34 the flat road quickly gives way to a steep climb that marks the beginning of the 20-mile jaunt from Jay back to Lake Placid and the start of the second loop. Arriving at the Olympic Sports Complex, I clock my time for the first loop at 3 hours 23 minutes. “If I maintain that pace I’ll do the bike in under 7 hours,” I mentally congratulate myself, “that’ll put me in prime position to finish the race in under 14 hours”. Only stopping briefly at the Special Needs area to restock my nutrition, I’m off. As Paul had predicted, maintaining a steady power output was getting progressively harder even on the flat, yet my discipline on the first loop was paying off. At mile 90 I’m passing more and more riders as they recover from each climb while I maintain a steady power output. Descending into Lake Placid for the last time the cheers and screams of the spectators erupt once again, I can’t help but smile, “112 miles down, just a marathon to go.” Nowhere else could the words “just a marathon to go” elicit a smile except at an Ironman. The bike has taken me 7 hours 8 minutes, just shy of my 7-hour goal, but I’ve improved my overall rank by 254 places, moving from 1710 to 1456. Now it’s time to see if my discipline pays off. It’s coming up to 4 pm.

Ironman Lake Placid Run Course
On the First Loop of the Run

With the 9-hour mark approaching, to beat 14 hours I need to complete the run in under 5 hours. Running is far from being my strongest pursuit. I know I’m going to be slower than most in the swim, but there’s something about the monotony of swimming that allows me to zone out as I count my strokes. Biking is my favorite, my legs pump rhythmically, the wind rushes past my face, and there’s a sense of satisfaction that comes from human-powered speed over the ground. But running, running is just a grind. Maybe it’s because of the muscle tissue I lost from both legs as a result of my electrocution 11 years ago, or perhaps I just need to train harder. Rarely have I ever zoned out while running and with 1600 feet of climbing ahead it’s unlikely I’ll be zoning out today. Barring a catastrophe, it looks like I’ll smash my previous Ironman best of 14 hours 45 minutes that I set in Cozumel 7 years ago on a much easier course. But can I do it under 14 hours? My best run time was at Ironman Lake Tahoe, 5 hours 45 minutes. My run at Ironman Cozumel was terrible, over 6 hours. Pulling off a 5-hour run based on that track record is by no means a certainty. Just focus on each mile as it comes. I settle into my 9-minute run, 1-minute walk intervals. At mile 6 mile I’m an hour in; an average of 10:00 minutes per mile, a fast pace for me. I can feel the fatigue seeping into my road-weary legs as I struggle to take anything into my churning stomach. Passing mile 13 I’m halfway there, but my pace has slowed to 11:20 per mile. My body desperately wants to walk yet I urge myself to complete “just” another mile, then another, “I’ll walk after this mile,” I tell myself, yet never do. My pace is slowing, 11:30, 12:00, 12:30, 14:00 and at mile 23 I cave in and walk, I’m done. Hopes of breaking 5 hours recede into the distance. It takes 15 minutes to walk mile 24, and then something magical happens.

Mike Reilly the Voice of Ironman
#IronmanVoice Mike Reilly

The last brutal climb to the Olympic Sports Complex is behind me, the energy of the crowd seduces me, I hear my name called out by spectators cheering me on, “you’re nearly there,” they shout. The energy intensifies, and I look at the radiant faces of each stranger holding out their hand for a high five. My legs start to pick up, and I break into a run again. “It’s not over yet,” I tell myself, “you can do it.” Mile 25 passes in 11 minutes 36 seconds, and still my legs go faster. It’s as if I’m Forrest Gump running from the bullies, braces breaking away from my legs and freeing them to run. I lean forward to keep up with them as mile 26 passes in 9 minutes 53 seconds. Entering the Olympic speedskating oval that today doubles as the finish chute for Ironman Lake Placid the crowd crescendos, shouting, screaming, banging and stomping, their energy carrying each athlete across the line. White light electrifies the last 50 yards as I hear Mike Reilly, the Voice of Ironman, announce:

Keiron McCammon, you are an Ironman!

I didn’t quite break the 14-hour mark that day. I finished the run in 5 hours 2 minutes and the race in 14 hours and 39 seconds. I beat my previous best by 44 minutes, set seven years ago on a much easier course and my run was 43 minutes faster than my best time from Lake Tahoe four years ago. I made up 304 places on the run to finish 1152 overall and most importantly to finish 1st in the Physically Challenged division! I guess that discipline paid off after all.

Ironman Lake Placid Awards
1st Place in PC Division

If you’d like to support my efforts and donate you can click the button below.

Help me raise $3,500 for the Challenged Athletes Foundation*

*80 cents of every dollar goes to support those with physical challenges

The Best Laid Schemes o’ Mice an’ Men

July 24, 2016 by keiron Leave a Comment

Today I should have been completing my 3rd Ironman Triathlon at Lake Placid. Alas it was not to be.

Back in January I announced my grand plans to celebrate the 10 year anniversary since I lost my hand by climbing 19,341 feet to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro, climbing 1,576 stairs to the top of the Empire State Building and finally racing 140.6 miles to complete my 3rd Ironman triathlon at Lake Placid, NY.

I did indeed climb to the top of Kilimanjaro in January (spectacular) and 4 days later climb the stairs to the top of the Empire State Building (lung burning). But, unfortunately I was not destined to race at Lake Placid. Five weeks ago I came of my bike whilst out on a training ride and shattered my collar bone.

Broken Collarbone
Broken Collarbone

Painful, yes. Disappointing that I wouldn’t get to attempt my 3rd Ironman after all the months of hard training, you bet. What I didn’t immediately comprehend though was the loss of use of my right arm/hand…given that it’s the only one I have. Oh boy.

The accident happened on June 18th in Haverstraw, NY. I was kind of run off the road by a white van that cut into my space after passing me, leaving me nothing but the curb and a few potholes to ride into. Being crouched over in my aero bars I came down hard on my right elbow and the impact shattered my right collarbone in multiple places. Whilst the driver of the van was oblivious and continued on I was fortunate there were others who stopped and in no time I was in an ambulance off to emergency…not that there was much they can do except x-ray my shoulder, to confirm the obvious, give me a sling and suggest I get an Uber the 40 miles back to Manhattan!

With my plans in tatters all I could do was focus on the here and now and the immediate needs of my recovery. It’s funny how life happens. In going through this “adversity” it caused me to reflect on my journey ten years ago as I first overcame and then ultimately thrived after hitting those power lines.

We all face adversity in life, for me it seems to manifest physically at times, yet there’s been plenty of emotional, psychological and even spiritual angst along the way. I believe how we face our challenges shapes us and can even define us. That’s certainly been the case in my life.

Looking back, I see that in facing the biggest adversity of my life in 2006 it taught me how to not just overcome and survive, but how to push through and thrive. A system I have unconsciously used time and again since then.

It’s three simple steps:

  1. Accept
  2. Forgive
  3. Let Go

Step 1, I accept what is, without blame or anger or judgement or regret. No matter how bad the situation, if I’m still breathing then it could always have been worse. I found the best antidote to blame, anger, judgement and regret was gratitude.

Step 2, I take responsibility and acknowledge the choices I made that lead to my current predicament, yet forgive myself and others that may have been involved. I find the key is staying in the present moment and not dwelling on the past and the inevitable “what ifs” and “if onlys”.

Step 3, I let go. For some reason it seems that there is always something I need to let go of that is no longer serving me. Back in 2006 it was my hand, in 2016 it was my Ironman ambition. At other times it has been a part of my identity. Invariably I can’t move forward and thrive if I don’t first let go.

I’d still love to raise $10,000 for the Challenged Athletes Foundation this year, whilst my Ironman didn’t work out I did at least get to complete a Half Ironman in May, a marathon in June and come November I’ll be racing in the New York City Marathon for the first time.


If you’d like to support my efforts and donate you can click the button below.

Help me raise $10,000 for the Challenged Athletes Foundation*

*80 cents of every dollar goes to support those with physical challenges

It Was 10 Years Ago

January 10, 2016 by keiron Leave a Comment

This year marks the 10th anniversary of my rather calamitous paragliding accident resulting in the amputation of my left arm, mid-forearm. I’d predicted back then that in a decade I’d have a Luke Skywalker-like hand as a replacement. That didn’t quite happen, but we did get a new Star Wars movie instead.

As I reflect back on my life over the last decade I can honestly say I haven’t missed my hand. What may appear to some as a physical challenge, a disability, I see as an opportunity. An opportunity to challenge myself and in so doing inspire others. I was fortunate back in 2006 to have the mental fortitude that helped me overcome and ultimately survive my ordeal. We all face adversity in life. We are all survivors in one way or another. Yet it seems that whilst most settle for surviving, others go beyond to thrive. How we choose to respond to adversity, big and small, shapes us and perhaps even defines us. Our goal therefore should be to not just overcome life’s challenges and merely survive, but to take each turn of events and thrive. Over the years I have shared through my blog a little of my adventures as I learnt how to thrive.

This year, to mark my 10th anniversary as an amputee, I embark on my most ambitious challenge yet, climbing 19,341 feet to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro later this month. Followed by climbing 1,576 stairs to the top of the Empire State Building four days later (the day after my 45th birthday) and finally racing 140.6 miles to complete my 3rd Ironman triathlon this July at Lake Placid, NY.

And to celebrate still being alive 10 years later I’d love to raise $10,000 for the Challenged Athletes Foundation who provide opportunities and support to those with physical challenges, children and adults alike, so they can pursue active lifestyles through physical fitness and competitive athletics.

 


If you’d like to support my efforts and donate you can click the button below.

Help me raise $10,000 for the Challenged Athletes Foundation*

*80 cents of every dollar goes to support those with physical challenges

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