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Catalyst Magazine

The Business of Running the Peachtree


Web-based Business / 2005, 2006 & 2007 Catalyst Top Entrepreneur

Martin Fleischmann

June 26, 2008


This is part one of a two-part introspective comparing the parallels of business and running - literally - an Atlanta institution.

Every Spring, tens of thousands of us in Atlanta start running regularly again for one main reason. Not the beautiful weather or greenery, but for that rite of Atlanta summer, the Peachtree Road Race.

Now, those of you who are one of the 55,000 or so who run or walk this 10K race (6.25 miles) - the largest 10K in the world that now has satellite races in Afghanistan and Iraq - understand the amazing scene that unfolds in Buckhead the morning of July 4th. You know the surreal experience of running right down Peachtree Street in a sea of sweaty, scantily-clad people. You may have struck up instant (sometimes lasting only seconds) friendships, born out of shared effort/pain or from sideline kindness that can make you feel good all day. And of course you know about the T-shirt you earn and wear all summer (and in later years) as a badge of civic honor.

Those of you who have cheered on the sides or at least watched on TV have a good sense of this annual Atlanta phenomenon, and those of you who haven't run or watched should take part this year. It's truly a distinctive slice of Atlanta past and present that any reborn Brand Atlanta campaign would do well to highlight. (BTW, here's a plug for my slogan suggestion – "Hotlanta, The Cool Place To Be").

Now, I know that many consultants and writers have written about the analogy of business as a foot race, though usually it's pegged to running a marathon. But for me, the years of lessons learned in preparing for and running the Peachtree, which has evolved from mere fun to going after competitive certified times, were similar to the lessons learned from starting and growing our online insurance lead business, MostChoice.com. Here are my top five lesson themes, with my personal Peachtree history of the last dozen years as the narrative:

Lesson #1:  Experience matters: You don't really know how to do the Peachtree the first time or two.


I first ran the Peachtree in 1996 – the Olympic year – only about a year after moving to Atlanta. I'd heard about it, and while not a runner, thought it would be neat to try. I applied and randomly got a number in the 30 thousands, which seemed high until I learned that Time Group 3 wasn't too bad – it would take only 15 minutes to actually cross the start line after the gun went off, as opposed to an hour for those in Time Group 9 in the rear. On most July 4th mornings, that hour of increasing sun/heat/humidity means a lot as you get into the course.

All the logistics of figuring out how to get to my assigned group staging area seemed bewildering the night before and on the morning of the race, and I was a little nervous since I hadn't practiced much. So I barely slept that night and then allowed too much time in the morning – I was pretty wiped out when I made it to my Lenox Road starting pen area before 7 a.m. I just wanted to nap while watching the wheelchair start, the helicopters overhead, and the whole mobbed scene from our perch on the side of Lenox Mall overlooking the start line. It was a little overwhelming, and by the time the national anthem finally played at 7:20, I seriously wondered how I was going to run the race, let alone finish it. Not too different from the "Oh man, what have I gotten myself into?" phase of the early start-up, just after you've gone ahead and personally signed a lease.

Luckily, other people sitting on the road bucked me up in casual conversation, and explained how fortunate we were that it was a chilly morning. I found that I didn't need to worry, because with wall-to-wall people, it was hard to do more than trot anyway for the first mile. Then I had to weave and dodge my way around walkers and slow runners until I found some room to move. Finally, just before West Paces Ferry, it opened up a bit as I broke through into the space left after Group Two, and got into a normal rhythm and stride.

Then "The Show" grabbed my attention: All the runners in funny costumes, the colorful signs and spectators, the bands playing on the sides of Peachtree, the people watching from bars. And as the road headed downhill for miles two and three, the event became easy and fun. I started playing with people on the sides, waving to the cameras, slapping kids' hands - I even took an offered donut (though I wisely declined beer).

This was similar in many ways to the ignorance-is-bliss stage of the start-up, after you've gone through the difficulties of getting moving and to your amazement, things start to work. You feel awake and confident, effortlessly finding lots of interesting things to do and people to meet, and you wonder why you didn't try this before.

Lesson #2:  Don't get overconfident: Things rarely stay easy for long, so you had better be prepared.


Then you hit the start of the uphill just before the end of mile three. And things change. Suddenly. You've heard about our own "Cardiac Hill," but now you see it and start to feel it. You've expended energy the first 24 to 25 minutes chugging along downhill and messing around, and now you hit truth time – are you really prepared for this? Have you put in the training to keep running up around that bend and up the long hill to Piedmont Hospital? "Damn it, I'm really not in shape, maybe I should just start walking," you hear yourself think. "It's getting hot, walking is the prudent thing to do," you reason.

So that first year I gave into that urge. After all, I'm not out here to kill myself. Which was fine for about one minute. I caught my breath and then started to see the spinal cord patients from the Shepard Center out there cheering us on. Then you feel worse than a wimp; you realize that they'd love to be able to do what you're doing. You owe it to them and yourself to not give up.

I hope it's not stretching the analogy too far to say it's similar to not giving up on your investors and employees when business goes bad or gets tough, but several of us have been to that morale breaking point – where all that keeps you going is the desire to not disappoint others who've backed you with their money and/or trust. So you make it up the hill and get a drink of water as you get your wind back and struggle on over the highway and some remaining hills, vowing to get in better shape next time. I don't even remember my time, but it wasn't good. Meanwhile, race records were being broken left and right with the cool weather and the Olympians.

Lesson #3:  There are many races: You only improve if you apply your learnings.


Of course, about 15 minutes after the race in the high of finishing and getting your shirt, you tend to forget how badly you felt that 4th mile. A wedding the next year kept me from the race, but I reentered in 1998 with just the memories of the spectacle and fun and didn't do much more preparation. The first half unfolded similarly to two years before, and then it wasn't long before I found myself on that hill again, thinking those same thoughts. "Damn, I forgot how much this stinks! Why didn't I get in better shape?"  I ended with about a 52-minute time, but resolved myself to do this better each year. However, I prepared only moderately more with three to four mile runs the next year, again had a tough second half in hot weather, and ended at 51 minutes. We were crazy building MostChoice in 2000, so I didn't make much time to train the next Spring and, guess what? I got about the same time again.

2001 was my breakthrough year for running, mainly because it was the year that MostChoice had to downsize and re-incubate to survive when funding became impossible to secure. I started running more to help deal with the stress I was feeling, both financially and emotionally given the uncertainties we were facing. I started running a little longer as my body got in better shape, and bought some better fitting running shoes that helped.

At the race, I knew now how to wake up at about 6:15 and cruise to my secret parking spot near Brookhaven by seven, then jog down toward the start. I managed to trade my high number with someone who had a low-20,000 and found that I got to cross the start line only eight to nine minutes after the 7:30 gun. I had many less people to fight through at the beginning and could get into a better rhythm. Even the hill felt a little more manageable, and in the end my time fell down to 49 minutes. It was just the success my flagging ego needed, a tonic for my ailing spirit. And surprisingly, my body didn't feel as sore either.

Another important thing happened the first half of that race – I caught up to many of the runners in Time Group 1B, who get to start toward the front and carry a chip on their sneaker for an official time. They only had to show a qualifying time of 50 to 55 minutes to get up there, and I realized I was faster than most of them.

Having tasted the benefits of being toward the front, I realized I could never start any further back. It was time to take my running (and also our business) to a new level and get serious. So I decided to run other races to get a qualifying time for next year's Peachtree. A time below 50 minutes would get me in Time Group 1A with the faster runners, so I kept in shape through the summer to run the Labor Day US10K, which is even more uphill and tougher than the Peachtree. But I came through with a 49:06 and ran a few other 10Ks, finding each one had its own character and charm. And I had the proof to get me that chip.

The second part of this introspective will be published on Tuesday, July 1, 2008.


Martin Fleischmann is president and CEO of MostChoice.com, a leading online insurance, mortgage and real estate agent lead business. He and co-founder Michael Levy were named Catalyst Top Entrepreneurs in 2005, 2006 and 2007.


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