"...I Am not an Animal..."

So I’m sitting here thinking about the upcoming race, and what I enjoy about them… Woo Hoo! The pageantry, the sights, sounds, and smells… Good Times! So in a previous post I mentioned the whole race gear thing; well actually I only delved into approximately 27% of it… I kind of lost interest/focus… Hey, cool, this site has a Bold key… Sorry about that.

Racing carries with it such hope and optimism… A fresh clock to tick away… Every race is unique. You never see the same people, the same course, the same post race spread of food, or the same awards… Yeah, sarcasm doesn’t work so well in print… So let us examine the Race Experience...

So after getting 15 minutes of sleep the night before, you begin the pilgrimage to the race… The race really begins during the drive to the event… As you other arriving “half-stepping” begins behind the wheel. Everyone has a strategy for which route to take and where to park; speeding up ahead of the car next to you… You scan the other cars as they make their way to some form of parking… Of course, the lemming effect (hey now, there it is again!) takes over as drivers all look around and sort of follow the lead car as they navigate the traffic blockage. For some of us, this is the race; Age group be damned!

This affect (I know that is incorrect, just checking if you are awake!) continues as the runners make their way to registration… Heading towards registration, it is most preferred to walk in with your “group”… Walking by yourself to sign up is akin to going to a High School dance alone. You are an outcast… A loser… I have learned to reconcile that fact years ago (at middle school dances), and it allows me to be more observant of my surroundings…

Excitement is palpable as you see this mass of people seeping in a general migration to, well quite frankly, where everyone else is heading… This is where it gets fun! You always have the ones that believe they are getting in line for U2 concert tickets as they weave and elbow and wedge their way through the crowd. The race isn’t closed, there isn’t great stuff to collect, nor are the girls at pre/late registration hot… There is no need to hustle!! I can only think of 3 reasons to justify this…

Registration is Closing. There is nothing worse than waking up early (on a Saturday no less!!), for that matter not going out on the Friday night before, only to get there and the race is closed, the cool SWAG is gone, or they lost your app… The last two have happened an it sucks… If I cannot have a cotton t-shirt made in Sri Lanka that will be 2 sizes too small after the first wash, or not be registered, then screw it… Let me know, and I will sleep in!

Crop Duster. Let’s be frank here. Uneasy night of sleep, coupled with nerves, coupled with something light for breakfast such as banana’s and Gatorade, is a science experiment gone wrong. The cup of coffee is simply the catalyst! This roiling cacophony of food types works its’ way through the system 5 minutes faster than the trip from home to race site… As you cut the cord, you pick up the pace… It is the group of runners 15 yards back that begin to look around for the perpetrator…

The Turtlehead or The Prairie Dogger. Crop dusting gone wrong or the body has processed breakfast 10 minutes faster than the trip from home… What ever the case may be, we all know it and we all dread it… If it has ever happened to you, it is a frightening ordeal that scars… I shouldn’t need to write anymore; in fact I’ll be right back…

OK, thanks for waiting, I feel better now… These 3 scenarios invariably lead to the same checkpoint as it were… The doors. Regardless of how quickly the three above arrive, there is a double door entrance (typically a school) with only one door open. The lemmings all arrive and cluster at the door, around the door, adjacent to the door, and of course blocking the (other) door. It looks like traffic in downtown Rome… The second door eventually gets opened; but only after the crowd dwindles, and allowing access to this second door. All the while there is genuine fear that this portal leads to an alternate site and race somewhere near Beijing. Its gotta be!

All three people above meet at the door. All have panic on their faces as the bottleneck grows. One of the three is dying a thousand deaths as movement (of people, if you know what I mean) stops. Of course, that one is the “Registration Closing” person… The other two know that they are already screwed… There is no way they will make it the bathroom… They will still have to wait in line for the bathroom… Prospects are grim! See, they know this… They’re already looking for an empty classroom… They just need to get through the door!

Standing in line at the registration table can be a great study in human behavior… There is grant money just waiting for the right research project here… Again, Good Times! Standing around waiting seems to be a significant component of the racing event… In reality, more time is spent waiting around than actually running. I have empirical evidence of this fact; and we all know by now that you cannot argue with science! I know some of you don’t believe me; and you are idiots… Just kidding. Seriously though…

Don’t believe me? I challenge you readers out there… All two of you… At the next race, time the wait… At the doors (see above for the poor reading retention people), in line registering, in line at the bathroom, before approaching the starting line, at the starting line, at the finish line (think corral), before results are posted… The longer the race distance, the longer the wait… It’s science! Provide evidence to the contrary, and I will give you a free subscription to this blog… I’m just saying… You can always consciously alter, somewhat, this waiting time, but that is like solving a physics problem and assuming that there is no friction…

Waiting at Registration.

Gumby the Gymnast. There are always those that try to make the wait more efficient… It is a noble effort… Personally, I will begin working on my MBA this season while I wait in line. I’ve already begun the on-line course work… Hell, I might even get some help with my homework… The lesser motivated however; use this time to stretch… No doubt that the 15 second intervals between line movements can offer ample time to stretch those soon to be taxed muscles… I remember seeing last year, a guy wheel up a Pilate’s table/bench/”apparatus” while in line… Either that or he was rebuilding his lawnmower engine… Is that really helping? Really.

The Oblivious. There they are again! With a James Stockdalesque demeanor (yeah you really have to check each of the 3 linkls out), they progress along in line tape-delayed slow. This itself isn’t a problem; after all waiting 15 feet away from the registration table is really no different than waiting 10 feet away, until you are close enough to engage the volunteers. Perhaps they are saving valuable energy for the race itself…

No, the problem is when they get to the table. They don’t know what is next. They are unprepared. Maybe they were talking with friends, or maybe they were reading a future race app that was left on other “staging” tables. They may even have been talking on their phone (or checking email); bracing for an encounter with Dakota and Braylee’s non-gender specific parent...

While this is bad, nothing approaches the eighth or ninth ring of Dante’s hell, quite like the person that is alone in line with none of these specific distractions that these others have for excuses. They get to the table not having fully completed (correctly) their app, not quite sure who to make the check out to (or haven’t even begun to fill in the basic parts like amount, or their signature), or aren’t sure what shirt size they want. I stand behind these people at Jimmy John’s all the time… “Oh… I’m supposed to order food now?” I mean it…

When confronted with the challenging question: “what size T-shirt would you like?” invariably they reply (BTW nothing worse than answering a question with a question) “How much will these shrink?” Now, remember, these are volunteers. They are someone’s mom, girlfriend, or wife. They dragged their asses out of bed just to remind runners that the friggin’ safety pins are in the box right in front of them!! Jeez! Garment sizing and care instructions are not their forte’… They most likely do not live oh, say near 40th in NY City. Just a hunch.

Now that runner has their number, chip, bag etc, they feel compelled to move away from their spot in line/at the table, a whole 9 inches. Literally. There they stand with their heads in the bag looking at all the crap included. It’s Christmas for them with “buy one get one free” coupons to restaurants they will never visit... Free inspection by a local podiatrist (which can come in handy after waiting in line all this time) beckons as they dig deeper in the bag. My personal favorite is the refrigerator magnet from some insurance salesman that won’t even hold up it’s own weight (there are forums for this!). Yet there they stand...

The Ass. These are the ones (and we have all seen them) that just can’t be “good with it”. Whatever the “it” is… The race info is incorrect, the safety pins are too big (or small), the race fee is too expensive… My favorite is when the shirts run out… No I don’t mean like in a Grimm’s Fairy Tale, with an empty shirt, a broom and a block of cheese all animating and busting ass out the door, I mean that there are no more shirts… So now it is the volunteer’s fault! Never mind that the conspiracy to deprive the Ass of a shirt would mimic that of Capricorn 1… That shirt is why they showed up to run!

I’m getting way too worked up, I gotta stop right here… Think of it as interval writing… I will continue this later…

Don’t forget to thank the volunteers. Hey I get it! This is a closing signature!

Rico