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The following semi-anonymous submission is not intended to reflect the view of the running community. Any comparisons to the writing style of Dave Barry are purely intentional and without his consent.

There are a lot of strange sports in the world and I’ve written about many. But mud wrestling, frog jumping and midget tossing have nothing over road racing. No I don’t mean that roads actually race. They just sit there while humans race along them. At least I think they were racing. Confused? Let me explain.

Let’s use a fictional race for an example; say the Wellfleet Five-Mile road race. The race is real but the distance is fictional. But that just leads to the enjoyment and it’s easier to tell your friends five miles rather than say “I just ran 4.93 miles!”

The race is traditionally run at 8:30 AM on the hottest Sunday of the summer. Runners start by getting up before the paperboy and are racing before any sane person is awake. But lets back up for a minute! There’s plenty to do prior to the race. Most serious runners prepare for running by going running. Usually a couple of miles will do. And to run 4.93 miles also requires a substantial breakfast. Half of a plain bagel and a gallon of Gatorade do the trick.

It’s important to get to the racecourse early because a number of critical steps have to be followed. The first is to stand in a long line to register. The advantage to not registering ahead of time is you get to race talk in line. It’s important to get your excuses on the table early. A few of the standard lines are, “I’m just training through this race”, “I only go all out when there’s prize money”, and my favorite “The tendonitis in my plantar-fascia has traveled up to my urinator”.

After hydrating (that’s a technical term for filling the bladder so that the last three miles are painful) with another gallon of Gatorade, the serious pre-race warm-up begins. This involves more running. It is also the time to check out the competition. Runners without shirts and sporting tattoos are the most fearsome although in truth you’re probably going to get passed on the last hill by an overweight woman wearing spandex biking shorts, pink socks, Keds and an “I’m a proud grandmother” T-shirt.

Ten minutes before race time runners mill around the starting line trying to stake out the best spot. The pecking order goes like this. Tattoos and shirtless runners get the first row. The second row will be a mixed bag of first time runners and race walkers – some with real walkers. This further insures that the first row of runners will win because anyone behind the second row will be lucky to get through this phalanx and to the first mile in less than ten minutes.

Finally race time is here. All of the supporters who have come to cheer on their heroes reach for the timer on their watches. If they have found the perfect place to stand and have timed out the race chances are they will be able to go out to breakfast and get back in time to snap a picture.

But the real fun is the race itself and every runner has a trademark or a plan. My wife’s plan always involves vomiting. Along the racecourse there are a number of pine trees showing signs of acid/Gatorade overdose. It has gotten to the point where I no longer ask “How fast did you run?” but rather, “How many times did you throw up?” – which you all must agree is an excellent name for a rock band.

The finish line is a spectacle. All the sprinting, elbowing and pushing – and that’s just the fans getting back from breakfast. In come runners with dried spit on their face and the last vestiges of Gatorade running down their leg. Each road race is only held once a year for good reason - it takes 364 days to forget just how ridiculous the whole affair was.

At this point you may start asking yourself why Gatorade has been mentioned so many times. Before you accuse me of reaping financial gain from product endorsement let me reassure you. I have never knowingly been directly handed hard cash from a representative of the fine socially conscious Gatorade conglomerate. Nor have I ever received direct deposits to my family account from said representative. Any other recollection I may have of remuneration I don’t.

Some road races also have a shorter race for children. Let me use the fictitious Wellfleet 1.4 mile Kids’ Race as an example. This is a result of those forward-thinking people who understand that having 5 year olds racing against testosterone laden 14 year olds is a good way to introduce them to a lifetime fitness activity.

The start of the race is excitement as the group sprints off to savor the thrills of competition. At this age it lasts for thirty seconds or until going out of view of the parents. Then a combination of jogging, walking and crying takes place. Twenty minutes later they come sprinting back as parents marvel at the lack of sweat.

Before you start to laugh, remember that you too may someday be involved in introducing your children to the fine sport of road racing. Even if they aren’t future Joan Benoits or Bill Rogerses all is not lost. The next time your child steps out of line just say “If you don’t cut that out right now you’re running Wellfleet next year.

And if that doesn’t work try the Gatorade!