Michael: The Pecking Order

The dog on the bridge
Is less of a derelict
Than the bar patrons.

Saturday, July 11, 2015

I’ve heard there are people that race every weekend. That’s insane. I use to race over twenty times a year, which suggests I’m only half crazy. This year I’ll enter four to five events, but I’d definitely race more if I could. I miss it.

But I do wonder why I, or any one else, races at all. It’s such a bizarre activity. For a group of people to go all Neanderthal; strip down to our underwear, don our face paint, and run after or away from …nothing. It would probably look and feel more appropriate if we were all given spears before the start.

And couldn’t we all reap whatever benefits we get from racing without the hassle and hoopla if we just chose to run with a group and wear a stop watch?

I can only scratch my head and conclude that discovering where we are officially in the pecking order means something to all of us under wearing frantic beings. That’s not necessarily either a positive or negative observation. But I can’t think of any other significant motivation for stressing out about how I should prepare for my next big event.