Those Medaling Prizes

As I look back on 2012, I noticed that there were several additions to my Finisher's Medals family. I see their rainbow colored ribbons strung down to an insignificant amount of metal and I scratch my head. Why? Why in the world to race organizers feel the need to hand these things out?

Flashback: 
I got my first finisher's medal back in 1998. The second came from the same race in 1999. Both medals, and countess others reside in this bag, in a box, in my garage. Emperor Palpatine watches over them to ensure that they don't get into any mischief.

My old roommate and I were losers who had just finished college and had nothing else better to do with our lives than go running and participate in the local 5ks. He had this brilliant idea of signing up for the Chicago Marathon. I, of course, was/ am an idiot. "Sure. How hard could it be?" We spent the summer training pretty much the exact same way as for 5k except that we gradually increased our long runs. I actually finished the race with a respectable time, despite all of the post-race pain and crying. Upon crossing the line, some hot chick draped a piece of aluminum foil around my shoulders while another had the unfortunate job of placing the medal around my neck. Maybe it was because of the hot chick. Maybe it was because of the endorphin-induced runner's high. Maybe it was because of the lack of oxygen and glycogen to my brain. It most certainly was not because of the shiny triangle dingling down my sore chest. I couldn't have been happier. 

Those mark the only 2 times I have ever been stupid enough to run an open marathon.

Flashforward:

This year brought 6 new Finisher's Medals into my home. I got one for a duathlon, half marathon, 2 half iron tris, a full iron tri, and one more for something I cannot remember. Not a single one has brought me any sort of joy or excitement. Upon arriving home from a Finisher's Medal event, I stop at the laundry room to unpack my stinkies. I learned many years ago that, if I don't clean out my bag immediately, I will not clean out my bag until my next event. My stuff reeks in real time. Three weeks in a closed-system does not improve the stench. While I dump my stuff into the special workout clothes hamper near my wash machine, I generally dump the medals onto the floor near the wash basin. (Note: This pic was not staged, much to the chagrin of the Wife.)

I've never seen anyone wearing their Finisher's Medals away from finishers line. Wonderful volunteers hand them out to the countless athletes. Most will walk around the race campus, eating the post-race food, having the post-race conversations, etc. The Finisher's Medals do not indicate a race time. Or race position. Or even a racer's name. The provide absolutely no data about the race itself. Most people take them off when they get to their car or, at the very latest, home.

Once in a while, after a particularly grueling race (grueling in terms of effort or in terms of a long drive home), the medal makes it to the bottom of my bag. The medal re-emerges later in life when I re-pack the bag for the next event. I don't normally enjoy carrying around extra weight, so I'll dump the medal on the nearest, most convenient location. This is typically my dresser, right next to my belts.

Those medals are in my line of vision on a daily basis, yet I never actually see them. They have become part of the landscape to which I have grown accustomed. I don't even know how many are there or which events they represent.

That fact may be the reason I hate them so much. 'Hate' may be too strong of a word but I am using it in the "I really wish they would stop handing these annoying, useless forms of participant ribbons out." Unlike the 'free' t-shirt which has names of sponsors and may actually be seen in public, the medal does not advertise the race to anyone else. People will receive their shirt with the cost of admission and wear it during the race. Maybe a photographer will snap a shot for the local news with the endorsement clearly visible. I still have and wear some of my race shirts from the 90s. The long-sleeved shirt in the pic at the left was from the Chicago 1/2 Marathon in 1999. I wore this at the 2011 Rochester Half. I would say that the RDs got their advertising investment back after 12 years of running in that shirt. Think of how many people I passed or passed me just in that one race alone. The back of the shirt has that long list of businesses who paid money to get their names on the back of that shirt. The subliminal message scientists would have a field day analyzing that kind of promotion.

Shortly after that picture, I got a Finisher's Medal. It will never see the light of day again. It won't make it to another race. It won't be featured in any future race reports or photo-ops.

Pretty soon, the Wife will force me to do something with the hardware scattered around the house. And she is right to do so. Slobs like me need extra encouragement. When that day comes, I could huddle up all of those pieces of useless decoration and ship them off to amazing charity organizations such as Medals 4 Mettle. They scoop up your negative attitudes and give them to sick children and their families. Pointless artifacts can be turned into smiles and tokens of honor as opposed to the burden they have become in my life.

I have donated all of my Age Group awards and trophies to charity. I keep some of my race shirts. Some have gone to charity. Some have gone to the garage to clean my bike. Some are too heinous for any of those tasks and head to the trash. However, when the time comes, I'll will probably gather up my Finisher's Medal's hardware and place it in the Emperor Palpatine bag like I have done with each and every medal I have ever received. Into the bag they will go along with the Chicago Medals. And the IMLP medals. And various running events. And various triathlon events.

I still don't know the purpose of this swag. Their function is completely beyond my comprehension. Yet, I keep them all.

Wacky Wednesday- WTC Generosity?

The WTC is the World Triathlon Corporation. It is a for-profit company that holds the brand name Ironman to its chest like a treasured childhood toy. In the triathlon world, just the mere mention of the WTC sparks as many emotions as as dudes arguing over the best baseball team of all time. Typically everyone is right, regardless of their opinions.

One specific complaint by many revolves around the 140.6 triathlon. Any 140.6 race that consists of a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike and a 26.2 mile run is typically called an Ironman. People that complete the race in the obligatory 17 hour timetable are also called Ironman. But, the title Ironman only applies to blokes that complete a WTC sponsored event. Should another, competing company host a 140.6, you do not have the right to be officially called an Ironman. This doesn't make you any less awesome. A rose by any other name is still an Ironman.

To further enragen the blood, the WTC started calling its half distance events "Ironman." Their website lists the 70.3 Ironman series. Now triathlon purists (I am one, I think) would never call these things Ironman. They are Half-Ironman events.

However, I concede the point. The WTC hosts the events, has paid money for the rights and privileges, and (quite honestly) they put on really good races. Do they hand out lots of swag? Nope. Do they offer benefits to people that race in their events? Not likely. Do they overcharge? Probably. Remember, they are a for-profit company. It's their job to make money. Will I be signing up for more of their events? Most definitely.

This year, I raced in 2 "Ironman" events, Ironman Lake Placid (a true Iron event) and the Ironman Syracuse (a fraudulent Half-Iron event). I thought I had been given everything that was coming to me within 15 minutes of crossing the finish line (a bottle of water, a finisher's medal, and a couple of cookies). I concluded my season and went on with the rest of my life.

Recently, the WTC sent me a package.

Sorry, I don't know how the girls on the internet take self portraits with amazing accuracy. Wrong shot. Let's try again.

I like the shirt. It is a comfy, technical material. It is a neutral gray. I could go without the orange fonts but since Syracuse University is an orange laden campus, it's not that bad. The problem is that I already have an (Half) Ironman t-shirt.

That's the original. The color is white. It is the same comfy, technical material. It has the exact same picture. Same fonts. Same orange. Same date. What gives? They didn't send along any reason for the additional fabric.

My original hypotheses went as follows:
-The WTC had too much profit from the race and decided to share the benefits.
-The WTC had found an extra box of unopened shirts and sent them out.
The WTC really prefers gray to white and, since we are all ambassadors of the sport, wanted us to advertise their preference.

Then, someone told me to look a little closer at the original. For your viewing pleasure, I have zoomed in on the main graphic.

See it yet? Don't worry, it too me a while too. Let me zoom in a little closer.

 In the original event, apparently we swam 1.2 miles, biked 56, and then again swam 13.1 miles. The infamous Swim, Bike, Swim. It all makes sense now... A half-marathon swim would better explain my performance in that race.

Brief History of Swag

As I re-read over and over again due to my OCD reflected on my recent swag post, I started to ponder how and when the idea of swag came about. Therefore, I decided to do some research on the history of swag. I wanted to get down to the basics, the nitty gritty on the evolution of this thing we now call swag. I found nothing. Here's a brief overview of what I did not find:

The First Evidence of Swag

The earliest indication of swag can be found in the Lascaux Cave Paintings in the south of France. Archaeologists, in a never ending battle to discover the roots of human existence, have dated these paintings back to more than 30,000 years ago (an amount of time equal to my IM run split). Originally, scientists interpreted these paintings as a Day in the Life (which the Beatles later re-made into a hit song). A more careful look at the photo will reveal more intriguing clues. Clearly, this was a deer shooting contest. The event was sponsored by Gander Mountain, back in the early days of the company's inception. Those who registered early got a fancy new bow string, such as the guy in the top of the painting. Since Gander Mountain did not expect a large number of competitors, the late comers did not receive any swag. The bow string guy seems to be the only one in the picture not stressed, sitting back and enjoying the moment. The others are frantically trying to figure out how to launch their arrows without string. They are trying different yoga poses (this was after yoga was invented) in an effort to maximize their bows' efficiency. Scientists are still unsure why one deer has arrows sticking out of his chest. To their best guess, they think the bow string guy shot this deer as it is clear he is out of arrows and that deer was in front. Either that, or they guy immediately in front of that deer has a pretty good throwing arm. The debate rages on.

Swag, the Later Years

The literature is really quite scant on swag details, unless you know where to look. Jump ahead in history a good 28,000 years to Ancient Egypt. During this time, Queen Cleopatra ruled the empire. Cleo had 4 different husbands during her life and was reputed to be constantly bored. She held numerous contests in an effort to keep herself amused. But, since she was also in the habit of killing off some of the losers, many of the common folk were not motivated to join in the competitions. Cleo noticed that participant enrollment in her Temple Building and Pyramid Building contests were at an all time low. She reached rock bottom when she held a Sphinx Building contest and just one guy registered. And, he built his structure without a nose. Cleo called together a group of advisers to discuss how to increase contestant registration. They suggested that she start handing out gifts, royal mugs and wine goblets, to those who signed up (as evidenced in the pyramid carving). The idea worked! Sadly, not all of Cleo's contests were great ideas. Her worse idea, Cutest Snake contest in which she was the judge.

Current State of Swag
The Urban Dictionary (the only resource I will cite today, proving the validity of this post) has several definitions of swag. As an acronym, it means 'scientific wild ass guess'. Or, it means 'sista with a gun' for some reason. Also, it can mean 'stuff we all get'. If you are going to a conference, this last definition may actually apply. But, if you sign up for an athletic event, spectators don't get swag, thus negating the UD definition. Spectators may get door prizes instead of swag. Door prizes are unexpected free stuff. Swag is unexpected free stuff. Obviously, they are not the same thing.

In today's economy, swag has been reduced to advertisements for semi-entertaining blogs, coupons for online shopping, travel-sized samples, and, in the rare occasion, pictures of the race director while he was on his last vacation (taken by non other than Brightroom photography).

So there you have it. By now, hopefully, you understand the meaning, history, and importance of swag in the context of the modern triathlon.

Understanding Swag

For those of you not familiar with amateur, athletic events, allow me to enlighten you on a few of the details you can expect should you decide to register and participate in these events...

First, even though you could do the exact same activity in the same place on any other day for free, these events cost money. Each event has a fee associated with running the event. There are a bunch of little things that add up. Towns force the organizers to have permits. The race organizers have to reserve a pavilion, pay police officers and EMS. They need awards and T-shirts. Typically, the longer the event, the higher the fee. Also, in a weird divergence from the laws of supply and demand, the more people expected at an event, the higher the fee. If you wait until closer to the race date, the fee increases. If you call the event 'triathlon', the event fee tends to triple. (There's more to that story which I may give you at a later date.) The take home message here: bring cash.

Second, you must sign a waiver giving up your, and your family's, right to sue should any harm come to you during the event. Triathletes, in the early days, had experienced numerous muggings, flailings, attacks by rabid animals, and, on certain occasions, been accosted by Morganna, the Kissing Bandit. Athletes were unhappy as none of these experiences produced a faster race time (except if they were being chased by the rabid animal, but that increase in speed was temporary and endured only up to the point where the animal caught you). The USAT, in an effort to quell their unhappiness, decided to tell athletes "Too bad. Suck it up and deal with it." Then, they had their lawyers 'legalize' the language into a one page, 3-point font, single spaced document that not a single athlete has bothered to read. The take home message here: can't sue.

And to the First Place finisher...

Third, sponsors of the events donate items to aid in the event's operation. In theory, the donations are to help reduce the cost of the event. Such items include: food, water, energy gels, tables, tents, and paying Morganna for her services. In return, the race organizers will print the sponsors name on the back of a T-shirt (in font sizes proportional to the amount of support given), print the sponsors on a flyer handed out to each of the participants, and publish the sponsors on the race website. If you donate enough, your organization will also be included in the name of the event, such as the Ford Ironman Lake Placid, or the Subaru Ironman Canada, or Morganna's Sprint Triathlon (that was a fun race).

One of the rights of sponsoring the event is the free advertising associated with sponsorship. Not only does the sponsor get the perks allotted above, but they also get to hand out SWAG. In a nutshell, swag is unexpected free stuff handed out to athletes. If you know you are getting the stuff, this is NOT swag. An example of not-swag is the 'free' race T-shirt with the name of the event on the front and all the sponsors plastered on the back. When you register for an event, right there on the description of the race, it says "All participants get a free T-shirt." Automatically negates the right to be called swag.

Sometimes, instead of shirts, they advertise other stuff, such as hats. Here's a screen shot of the fees associated with one of the races I am considering. Notice how the race fees almost double simply by waiting for your personal schedule to become more clear.

Automatically you can pick out the non-swag items. AMB chip timing... not swag. Plenty of good post-race food... not swag. Headsweat custom hat... not swag. This illustration demonstrates a gray area in the realm of swag. If you are the 201st registered participant and you get a hat, is this still called swag? I'm not sure. It's unexpected. It's free. But, it's advertised. I'm checking the rule book and I cannot find mention of this. I have a call out to the COSA (Committee on Swag Allocations), but since they did not answer, I left a message and am awaiting a return call.

So, what does swag include? At one race, I got a free race belt. I had no idea they were handing this out. Swag. At another race, I got a free mini-box of cereal. Swag. (I still have this box, unopened, should anyone want it). At another race, I got free swim goggles. Swag (which I promptly gave to the Wife. She is very happy with them, thank you Tyr.) At another race, I got free smart wool socks. These are my favorite (thus far) swag. I use these socks in the winter often and may (at some point in the future) consider actually purchasing a second pair.

Swag normally shows up when you least expect it. Most of the time, upon registering for a race, you have to pick up a packet of materials. Inside this packet, you get a printed copy of the race rules. Also included are maps so you know the course. You get the flyer that has the name of the sponsors. They also toss in advertisements for said sponsors and maybe a flyer or two for other races.

Almost all of this information is completely ignored by most racers. We dump out the packet looking for the important items, unexpected free stuff called swag. It's sort of like kids arriving home after trick-or-treating. You get home, dump out your bag, and immediately start sorting. In this pile goes the official crap (and by 'pile' I mean the recycle bin). In this pile goes the 'need for race day' crap (cap, race number, timing chip, coupon for Morganna). In this pile goes the swag. This is where we spend the bulk of our post-packet-pickup time.

Research has shown that the amount of swag is directly proportional to racer satisfaction. It seems that people are willing to pay copious amounts to get free stuff. The more swag you get, the happier you are (even if it's crappy swag). Good swag is the real reason most people sign up for races anyway. Some people will tell you that they race for pleasure. They race for competition. They race for camaraderie. They race for their health. Most of them are lying to you. Deep down, they race for swag. Unexpected free stuff. So there you have it.