Fund-raising 101: Companies can say 'no'

When my sister Brooke and I signed up to run the Chicago Marathon for the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation (MMRF) in our dad’s memory, our fund-raising expectations were low. Having never previously raised money for a cause, we didn’t know who of our family and friends would donate. We also believed the tough economy might prevent people from being able to contribute financially.

We were proved wrong. Friends and family stepped up to the plate, and donations flowed in, especially during the first several weeks of fund-raising. It was an exciting time, and my eyes often welled up with tears every time I received an e-mail alerting me a donation had been made. They still do.

Initially, we each planned on raising $1,000, or $2,000 combined. In June, we surpassed the $2,000 mark. As a result, we adjusted our goal to $3,000. In July, we surpassed that, too. Again we revised our goal to $4,000, not out of some competition to raise more and more money. We just want to help. Since its founding in 1998, we know the MMRF has made great strides in funding research for new multiple myeloma treatments and has been an invaluable resource for patients and their families. We wish it had been in the ring with our dad when he was fighting such an awful disease.

It’s in that spirit that Brooke and I contacted Justin Boots, our dad’s long-time employer. He worked there as a salesman until his death in 1995. I spent time on the road with him as a little girl, so I got to see firsthand his dedication to and love for the company.

In May, I mailed our first letter to the company, as directed on its website. I shared our story about why we were running the Chicago Marathon and asked for Justin Boots to donate $1,000. In return, the company’s logo would appear on our charity running and support team shirts. Additional publicity opportunities were offered, as well. I asked for a response by mid June. Weeks went by, and I heard nothing from the company. I enlisted the help of my dad’s close friends, who still had connections at Justin Boots. They e-mailed their friends and received favorable responses.

About a week and a half before the deadline, I still had not been contacted by anyone at the company. So, while I was in Minnesota, my sister and I put together an amateur photo shoot. As our mom photographed us, we ran in our dad’s cowboy boots, shorts and MMRF jerseys. I sent a photo collage and a hand-written letter requesting $500.  I also posted the photos on Twitter to get the Justin Boots’ attention. As a result, I received a message that the company would be in touch.

Then, radio silence.

A week ago, I sent a new proposal to the company. And yesterday, I contacted the Balcom Agency, a Texas-based advertising, marketing and public relations firm that, according to its website, has Justin Boots as a client. I briefly stated why Brooke and I were running the Chicago Marathon, asked for a donation/sponsorship and requested to speak with the account representative for Justin Boots. Within hours, I received this response:

Dear Brady -

As a Berkshire Hathaway owned company, Justin Brands has certain limitations and this request falls outside the defined parameters Justin Brands has in place for their corporate giving.

Sincerely -

(name removed)

My mom warned me not to be disappointed if Justin Boots chose not to make a donation. She thought too much time had passed since our dad died, and a donation might not be a priority for the company.

I wasn't surprised by the rejection. I was, however, disappointed in the manner it was conveyed.

Indeed, Brooke and I hoped for a donation. But more importantly, we wanted the company to help us honor or dad.

Running in a Small Town

As you probably have gathered from reading this blog, I'm from a small town, a very small town. The current population is around 2,500, and it's getting smaller every day.

We have two gas stations, one grocery store, a Subway, a Dairy Queen and the finest bakery in all of southwest Minnesota, if not the state. We have a Red Rooster, where my parents took my sister and me almost daily for breakfast during grade school.

My graduation class had 100 students. It was a big class. About 500 students attend the high school, grades 7 through 12.

While I haven't lived there in eight years, I go back frequently. I recently spent two weeks there, and I did a fair amount of running and thinking about small-town running.

You know you're a small-town runner when...

1.  It takes you less than 40 minutes to run around your entire town.
2. A significant chunk of your run is spent on a U.S. highway.
3. You share the road with tractors, trailers and semi-trucks.
4. You hesitate to wear only a sports bra because it's likely a teacher, your 70-year-old former neighbor or the old men who told you when you were a little girl that your finger will fall off like theirs did if you pick your nose will see you. But it's hot, so you do it anyway (wear only the sports bra, that is).
5. Your story about running a marathon for charity makes the front page of a newspaper.
6. You have a 14-miler on the schedule, and the most logical route is running to another town and back home
7. The closest thing to a running club is the high school cross-country team.

Do you live in a small town? If so, what do you think is unique to small-town running?

You know you're a real runner when...

Your toenails die. Duh!

Ever since I trained for my first marathon five years ago, one of the toenails on my left foot has never been the same. I notice the toe during long runs, and it often feels sore afterward. By the time I race, it has turned purple and part of the nail has come off.

After last weekend's 14-miler, my toenail had become a real pain...in my foot. On Tuesday, I tried clipping it to relieve pressure. I must have punctured a blister, because it started draining fluid. Blisters under the toenail aren't uncommon in runners.

Despite poking the blister, I still felt pressure under my nail. I did some research and considered puncturing my nail with a hot paper clip or needle to properly drain the blister. My brother-in-law even offered to do it! But, with a 15-miler planned for this weekend, I thought I should wait.

That is, until last night. I was about to go to sleep but I couldn't stop thinking about my toe. I got out the clipper, and I started cutting away. Slowly, and with little pain, the toe nail came off. It was dead anyway.

Both Ben and my mom expressed some concern, so I mentioned the "surgery" I performed on my toe during my annual physical today. The physician's assistant said it looked good, and I have no need for antibiotics. Yay!

I feel like a true road warrior, with one less toenail.

My Rave Run

I've been in my rural Minnesota hometown (population 2,500 and getting smaller) since July 20, and I will be here until Monday. I have several motivations for my lengthy stay at home. My mom was hospitalized for and diagnosed with seizures last month, and I wanted to accompany her to her follow-up doctor appointments. I also have upcoming family gatherings -- a reunion on Saturday and my grandma's 80th birthday party on Sunday.

Before loading up my Jeep a week and a half ago, I looked at my Chicago Marathon training schedule; my long runs consisted of 9-, 14- and 15-milers. I've previously run marathons, so the distance didn't scare me. Long runs are my friend. But the location in which I'd be doing these long runs frightened me.

I recalled running from my hometown of Tracy to Walnut Grove and back (7 miles each way) five years ago while training for my first marathon. I begged my sister, who hadn't been training for anything, to run with me. We shared a CamelBak. Between the rolling hills and sharing U.S. Highway 14 with cars and semi-trucks, I never wanted to cover that route again on only my feet. Yet, while I was home visiting two summers ago and training for the Twin Cities Marathon again, I decided to not only run that route, but also to run around my hometown first. I had a 20-miler on the schedule and, even though I was home, I intended to run it. This time my sister accompanied me on a bike. I was about 15 miles into the run when I slowed down and became almost delirious. I was exposed on the treeless highway, and I had started out too late. I was hot. And I was done. We called my father-in-law who picked us up. Thank God for my sister and her cell phone.

Despite those dreadful runs, I love Tracy and the thousands of acres of unharvested corn and soybean fields that currently surround it. Though, you won't ever see my town featured as a rave run in Runner's World. It has less than two miles of running/walking paths on the town's edge, near a small man-made lake pond. A run around town is about four miles long. Tracy's edges are mostly treeless and leave runners exposed to the often unforgiving wind and sun. And to run any serious distance means traveling, unless you want to run laps around town.
 
For this weekend's 14-miler, I drove to the Lake Shetek area which has a 6-mile paved trail. It's about 13 miles south of my  hometown. There, I encountered hills, wild flowers, prairie grass, men fishing, deer, rabbits, and, of course, the lake. While I had to run around the nearby town of Currie (population: 225) to make up additional miles, I loved this run. I had biked and run the path before, but I didn't appreciate its beauty until this past weekend.

I plan to return Saturday for my 15-miler. It may not be considered a rave run to the well-traveled runner, but it's a gem hidden in the cornfields of rural Minnesota. It's my rave run.

Brooke makes news at Bavarian Blast

Over night, it seems my sister has morphed into a super athlete. According to the New Ulm Journal,. Brooke was the top female finisher in the Bavarian Blast 10k Saturday. Congratulations Brooke!

Not so fast.

She ran the New Ulm Bavarian Blast 5k Saturday. She originally signed up for the 10k but the small field intimidated her. She found safety in numbers and ran the shorter distance with friends, with the OK from race organizers. She finished in approximately 31 minutes, an admirable time for a beginning runner.

The data was wrong, and the reporter failed to double-check it. He could have easily called Brooke for a quote (he got one from the top male finisher).

Brooke thought the article was funny but also annoying. She lives in a small town, and her clients and friends likely will ask her about her spectacular race! I, too, think there's humor here. But as a former newspaper reporter, this article requires a correction.

Whether Brooke is the top finisher or middle-of-the-pack runner, she's a winner in my book. I'm so proud that she's out running and racing.

I lost the battle, but I still got a watch!

I may have lost the custody battle, but I'm now the proud owner of a new Garmin Forerunner 305 watch. I convinced Ben that a.) it would be a good investment, b.) even when we live in the same zip code, we don't always run together and c.) we have only raced together once. Basically, we couldn't share his watch.

He was tired of hearing about the watch accepted my well-crafted proposal for a new watch, and he suggested I buy one as soon as possible. I got a heck of a deal on it from Walmart, and I ordered it July 5. It arrived either Friday or Saturday while I was out of town.

Thanks to the watch, I'm able to track distance, current pace, average pace and time. I have the option of using a heart rate monitor. I can connect the watch to my computer to download data from runs. Curious? Learn more here.

I wore it today on a run (5.25 miles, to be exact), but I failed to take a picture. I will model it soon. Until then, here's a photo of the watch, sans me.

Why I Run

This week I entered a short essay contest here on why I run. I couldn't come up with a single reason. Instead, I came up with several. This is what I submitted:

Why do I run? It can’t be confined to a single reason.


I run to escape. I run when I need to think, relieve stress, and be alone. I run to be with friends or make new ones on the lakefront path. I run for its discipline and sense of accomplishment. I run for my health and to kick cancer’s ass. I run because I wasn’t an athlete in high school; now I am.


I run to eat. So I can indulge in a slice of ginger peach apple pie or a pear scone without the added ingredient of guilt.


I run because it’s my antidepressant. The simple act of lacing up my shoes and running makes me instantly happy. Whether my run is sluggish or fast, I’m able to start the day on the right foot or end on a positive note.


When I’m not running, sharing my love for the sport makes me happy. I’ve supported friends who want to get off the couch and get moving. I’ve encouraged them to run their first 5k. I’ve toed the line with them at their first marathon.


I’ve been running for six years. This winter I had my first injury. I hated being stuck on a stationary bike and mourned the loss of my feet on the pavement. Post-recovery, I cherish every step and look forward to every mile ahead.