Spectators Unite.

(Another oldie that has appeared elsewhere, but does this fit with the other body of Wisconsin material? Does it flow, or is it too sports focused?)

I love my wife. I love that she set a goal to run a triathlon by age thirty-five, and then met that goal. She only started running eight months before the event. I’m proud of her. That being said, I am surprised to find myself a year-or-so after that event getting up at 4 am so she can participate in another race. In fact I’ve gotten up at 4 am many times in the last eighteen months to cheer on other friends and family members as they participate in triathlons, 5Ks, 10Ks and other Ks. Somehow, you get inducted into this culture of racing. Not just the athlete herself, but the whole family. Much like the mafia or youth soccer. All of a sudden, even as a spectator, you have certain responsibilities and assignments that you didn’t have before. In the mafia you must prove your loyalty by killing someone, in soccer it’s “your turn for snacks”, and in the race culture, we spectators take on the responsibility of “sled dog”. We carry the essentials, like water, Pop Tarts©, bananas, bug spray, “Go Mom!” signs, sweatshirts, cameras, children, etc. and get them to the next spot on the course where we can view “our” athlete. Now, that’s not a bad thing. Sled dogs are noble animals. But they don’t get a medal, or a “goodie bag”, or post-race pasta, or even one of the crappy t-shirts.

This was brought home to me a few weeks ago when at 5 a.m. some friends and I were standing around at a race in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin while our wives set up in the transition area and waited for the “pre-race whatever”. I noticed that there was no coffee and there were no donuts available for us “observer participants” (I think that’s the sociological term). Even to purchase. And, it struck me: while it was true that I was somehow inducted into the race culture, it was also true that I inhabited the bottom rung of that society. The Race Matrix, if you will. “It” was really not for me, although I was to be part of “It”. At that moment I realized I would need to start looking out for Number 1. I loathe that attitude in the greater society, but in the race culture, as a spectator, it’s a matter of survival. Especially when I read essays in my wife’s runners’ magazines about how we, as spectators, can be better supporters of the athletes. Blech!

Here are a few tips towards survival and sanity from a veteran race spectator (PS : None of them have to do with how to better cheer on the athlete, but don’t send any letters to the editor. Whining isn’t befitting an athlete. You’ve trained so hard, don’t stumble here.):

1. Bring your own coffee and donuts. Race events don’t cater to our kind.

2. In your mind, replace all “race lingo” you hear--like ‘race belt’ (didn’t Wonder Woman have one of those?), ‘black toenails’, ‘wicking material’, ‘hydrate’, ‘carbo load’, ‘shimmel’ (what the…?!), ‘body glide’ (gak!)—with a word that makes you laugh, like ‘buttocks’ or ‘chimp’ (I work with junior high kids). See if it doesn’t put a smile on your face and make the day go more quickly.

3. Get a big backpack to haul all the support items during race day. At my (wife’s) first triathlon I just grabbed my daughter’s first grade backpack. I spent much of the day running from vantage point to vantage point with my arms pinned back like a specimen moth. Why? Because of my Lilliputian pack and the 50 pounds of bananas, cereal bars, juice boxes, water, and other breakfast items (see Tip #1) needed for my bleary-eyed children. At the next race I opted for a larger bag and unbeknownst to my wife, we (my four and seven year-old and I) had our own little race: who could eat the most bananas and drink the most juice boxes before the actual event. It lightened the load but we ended up having to watch the race from the port-a-potties.

4. Pace yourself. At the post-race party (translation: snake oil marketing frenzy) don’t sample everything. At one expo my friend Paul and I took what amounted to a “pub crawl” tour of all the energy drinks and gels for athletes. Mind you, we were not participating in a race at that moment. And while, yes, the gels did taste like real apple pie and mocha latte espresso, after 32 samples our hearts were racing and bodies shaking like celebrities entering re-hab.

5. And, oh yes, don’t forget to embrace your sweaty loved one who just achieved the hard-won goal of completing a race. Remember, she’s the reason you are where you are today. At 4 a.m.