Participating in organized events is a huge emotional charge. The buzz is addicting. If any of your favorite forms of exercise have organized events, I’d highly recommend the experience.
I posted earlier about successfully completing 67 miles in the ULCER cycling event this year. Last year’s ULCER was my first cycling activity that involved people other than my own children. Don’t get me wrong, riding with your kids is a great time to bond and have fun. But as far as adult interaction goes, waving at others as we pass doesn’t count as really riding with somebody.
If you’ve never participated in an event like this, I’ll try to paint a crude picture….
I showed up for early check-in the night before. That allowed me to ask questions and chat with people ahead of time. I watched some of the preparations for the morning ride. Supplied were being unloaded by the pallet load. Water, ice, food. People were rushing about while a small fork lift was scooting around. The large quantities had my attention, and I wondered what I was getting myself into.
The next morning I got up before dawn, did an equipment check, and loaded the family and trike. We drove to the starting point, and the wonder started to build.
Imagine attending an event with some twelve hundred cyclists for the first time. Because we were fairly early, the location was crawling with people, but things got crazier as riders arrived and started streaming through the entrances.
I was grateful that I did pre-registration the previous evening. The registration lines were long, the music loud, and the shouting to be heard was deafening. The mood was festive, and people mingled around tables crowded with a variety of breakfast snacks: fruit, granola bars, cookies, water, coffee. Many of the attendees were repeat offenders, but it was reassuring to find a lot of initiates like myself.
I eventually found where we would start. “Go” was still 45 minutes away but a couple hundred cyclists were already in line. I parked my trike behind them, greeted those ahead of me, grabbed my camera and wandered off to where the timed (team racing) events were to start.
The teams fidgeted at the starting line, sporting garish matching cycling jerseys and shorts. Their wiry frames made me cognizant of my opposite extreme. My butterball rotundness was easily twice the weight of any one of those muscled broomsticks.
Finally the first team was released to a bang, a band, and a shout of the crowd. Subsequent teams were given a loud “go” systematically, one team every thirty seconds or so. After taking some pictures, and the team starts got repetitious, I entrusted the camera to my wife, and got back in line. Fifteen minutes to go. The loudspeakers were urging the tardy to queue up for the mass start. Where I was the last in line twenty minutes earlier, the line now stretched far beyond with hundreds more.
The mood grew more festive as the countdown drew near. I was getting giddy like a little kid. I never knew such events existed, let alone think I would be in line crying out “10… 9… 8… 7…”.
This year’s experience was much the same. I knew the routine:
- Pre-register
- Travel the course the week before so I wouldn’t get lost.
- Early check-in
- Show up, meet new people, and have fun.
This year, I was in much better shape, and was able to have a new experience. For one segment of about 13 miles or so, I fell in with a delightful young lady named Amy. Her background is much different from mine, as she comes from a family of avid athletes for whom fitness is a normal part of life.
As we rode side by side, it was interesting to pick her brain and get acquainted with her point of view. I found that I rode 2-4 miles per hour faster with her than any other segment. It stretched me but not so much that it tired me out for the last segment.
That experience, combined with simply participating in these big events have taught me to look out for opportunities to exercise with other people. I enjoy grinding it out alone to give myself some space for thinking, but mixing in some companionship provides value to supplement the routine. Without saying anything to each other specifically, it’s supportive to have somebody along for the ride (literally or figuratively).
The larger events can also serve as training goals, giving something specific to shoot for in preparation. Instead of and endless stream of exercise, day in and day out, they break up the year and give variety to life.
I did two things to celebrate. The first was to buy new pants. I’ve been wearing the same pants — drowning in them — since I started this journey. I lost ten full inches around my waist. I bought two new pairs of black jeans. My shirts are all too big still, but I’ll buy new shirts as the budget allows. 
We humans have a tendency to run around slapping labels on things without thinking about whether that’s a beneficial activity. Don’t get me wrong, now. Labels can be useful. For example, slapping the label “dangerous” on the idea “jump off cliff” contributes towards a longer life. 
Artist: 
