PARDEEVILLE 2006: ONE QUESTION ANSWERED, MANY MORE RAISED

No more do we need to ask the question, "Shall we Pardeeville this year?" The 2006 Pardeeville triathlon has come and gone, along with the opportunity to die an untimely death as a function of this particular form of the absurd at this location (although I made another possibility for that by riding the bike course in the afternoon heat after the event with a lean, fast triathlete, improving my previous bike time there by 21 minutes). Of course, another opportunity will present itself at Devil's Lake and, if we live through that, at Pardeeville 2007, so the "training" goes on. And on. And on. More about that later! First, let's take a look at Pardeeville 2006.

Since I wasn't competing, I threw myself into the role of fan/spectator/sherpa for two women I know who were in the game, one an experienced triathlete, the other a first-timer. This role gave me an opportunity not only to cheer for my friends, but also to absorb and analyze the ritualistic features of the sprint triathlon, at least as it unfolds in small-scale settings. Part festival, part competition, the sprint tri has an affiliated community of competitors, it seems---folks who know each other from other races, training experiences, gyms, etc.,---and along with this its own community codes of conduct, internecine conflicts and tensions, social hierarchies (based on ability and performance, as well as on appearance, age, gender, etc.), and rituals.

In this setting, the event was an odd and interesting blend of the high tech/high roller/corporate sports material display and the low tech/home grown/ride-past-Butch's Birds-out-on-Twitchell-Road-and-then-come-to-the Kiwanis-feed homegrown sackrace/picnic...people ( men outnumbered women 2-1, and I saw one person of color at the event---a spectator) paid a lot of money to have the gear and the coaching to go jump in a park pond, ride 15 miles through the country side, and run through the small town of Pardeeville. In some ways, this paradox reflects the history of the event--at least if the sprints are derived from the Hawaii Ironman, which was at its inception a homegrown event organized by a bunch of friends who didn't have any special equipment, power bars, or designer tri clothing, all of which have become expensive, normative requirements in today's events.

The thing was a heckuva lot of fun for spectators--in part because of its laid-back feel, and the participants I know had a fabulous time; my observation is not a critique, just a description of the contrasts, which, for me, made the event all the more fun and interesting. All of this raises some more questions: Who benefits financially from these events--in this case, does Pardeeville benefit? What explains the gender differential? Why are the divisions--M/F, age, and weight, set up as they are, especially since age in particular seems not to be a strong mediating force, particularly among the women (women in the 40's and 50's are finishing with times similar to/better than women in their 20's and 30's...)? What's the relationship between corporate interests and individual interests in these events? How does collaboration and competition work among the athletes? And what's going on (or not going on) in (white) women's lives that makes us find these events attractive and meaningful? Lots of questions....

To step back from the sociological...as an individual, I was impressed by the performances of the athletes in the event, and especially amazed by my friends, who both did very well and were apparently unfazed by the exertion. I, on the other hand, sustained an injury requiring medical treatment just as a spectator. All of this has thrown further into question my own sanity as I consider doing the Devil's Lake Challenge in September.

I've come a good distance since I started contemplating doing one of these this April, but there's still a long way to go---and DL is even more intense than Pardeeville. My biking is coming along, but the swim and the run still need more work. I can run about half the distance slowly on a treadmill w/o my ankle bothering me, but it's a slow 1.5 miles. My first frame of reference for involvement in triathlons was that of being an iron sherpa, and it seems to me that my new skills biking, running, and maybe swimming perhaps leave me best suited for biking to places on the course to cheer people on, running around to take photos, and swimming into the social world of triathletes.