Tag Archives: OCR

OCR Report: Royal Mudman: Race (semi-)Local

Yesterday was my second OCR of the year, and it kind of snuck up on me. I did the Royal Mudman 5K in Charlottesville, Indiana, about an hour and a half from where I now live.

You almost undoubtedly haven’t heard of it. It’s not part of a race series; it’s put on as a fundraiser for the Eastern Hancock Education Foundation, which provides grants to teachers in Hancock County. I don’t have any personal connection to said county, but I’m fundamentally glad that that happens.

Home of the Royals sign.

OK, one connection. The OCR took place at a high school, whose mascot is the Royals, which was also my high school’s mascot, even though I never felt like Queen Elizabeth II was particularly fierce or good at football.

I honestly haven’t been hunting for races, what with the move and such. (That excuse, still!) But I found out about the race because of the move. When I was driving to Ohio before moving to arrange housing, I saw a billboard for the race. It remains the only thing (with the possible exception of Wall Drug) that I’ve ever chosen to take part in because I saw a billboard for it.

About the race itself: I really enjoyed it. As you might expect, the scale of the race was fairly small. That means that there were only a handful of waves—start times spread over only maybe an hour and a half or two hours. Getting in and out was easy, with parking on-site at the high school and no lines at check-in or the bag check. Plus, no lines at obstacles.

Obviously, a local race isn’t going to compete on “epic” obstacles. (A concept that OCR people give way too much play to—but that’s another subject.) There were three up-and-over vertical climbs: One cargo net, one bank of tires (stacked vertically on top of each other so it looks like a bunch of big 8s), and one wooden ladder thing. Also notable was a rope swing over a mud pit and a water-and-soap slip-and-slide (curiously placed as the first obstacle, in case you aren’t fresh and clean before running). The course also made excellent use of a local creek, with one fairly long trip wading through it for some distance and several other times crossing it. (As we’ve had a lot of rain lately, the creek was often about waist-high—probably higher than anticipated.)

The other obstacles had a lot of what you could call clambering. Things like crawling over a series of large logs, through the crotch of a large tree, under a set of giant tires embedded in the ground, or through a mud pit under some wire. Also, due to the rain, the running path was muddy and uneven—though certainly not to the extent of a typical Spartan with miles of single-track muck that is impossible to run through.

Fire jump being constructed.

And a fire jump, because it’s an OCR.

None of the obstacles were extraordinarily difficult. And yet (to get back to the whole “epicness” flaw) I was still pretty exhausted after it. That’s because I was able to run the whole thing, and at a decent clip, even. The race wasn’t officially timed outside of the competitive heats, but there was a clock with a running event time at the start/finish line. If I remembered the start time correctly, and I did the math right, I did the course in about 44 minutes. Physically I was quite pleased with how I ran it.

To sum up: It was a really lovely day—or half-day, really, since I was home by about 1 p.m. It’s not going to compete on having obstacles on a grand scale or that require extraordinary strength. But it’s a great option if you’re in the region and looking for a casual OCR experience or an OCR where you can push the running pace.

Plus, the race had what I’m calling an official cow.


The official cow of the Royal Mudman OCR?


Race shirt and medal

One more photo, for the swag hags.



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Filed under Obstacle Course Racing, OCR Report, Royal Mudman

The Lowest-Earning OCR Athletes

So, yesterday ORM published an article about the top-earning athletes in OCR. Cool and all, if you’re into that. But what if you’re more into the everyday racers—the mid-packers, the ones who stay anonymous, the ones whose struggles won’t be elevated to the status of “inspirational story” easily packaged, shared and liked on Facebook?

You’re in luck! In this post, I can offer you a highly exclusive list of the lowest-earning OCR athletes. Read and be inspired. Or not. I’m not your boss.

Female speaker (Actually Dr. Brene Brown)

5. Jordan Alexandrescu: This hard-working mother of two from Cleveland learned that if you put your mind to it, you can overcome any obstacle, and became a motivational speaker to profit off of this realization. Earnings: $600. Unfortunately, she failed to put her mind to the obstacle of learning directions to her first gig, and the route was not marked to her satisfaction, so she arrived 45 minutes late. She managed to get them to pay half of the original price, but word got around, and she never got another motivational speaking gig again.

4. Urd Bruhn: This professional teenybopper from Tulsa sold a finisher medal and shirt on Ebay. Earnings: $79.99, less shipping.

3. Johnathan Albion: This quinoa farmer from Pensacola was offered a gig as a celebrity impersonator thanks to a couple of typos and a mediocre app that finds anyone’s celebrity twin. See, Mosi Murdock was having a party, and being a huge Matlock fan, he wanted an Andy Griffith impersonator. When the app decided that Jonathon Albon is Andy Griffith’s celebrity twin, Mosi tried to Google his number, made a few typos, and didn’t realize his mistake until too late. Earnings: Mosi still gave Johnathan $50 plus a slice of birthday cake for his time. (Not one with the icing rose, of course.)

2. Adella Bryan: She “won” the OCR set up in the backyard by her mom, beating out nobody, because she has no friends. Earnings: One shiny quarter.

1. Ryder Bass: This home economics teacher from Eugene, Oregon, picked up a discarded aluminum can on the course and returned it to a store for the deposit. Earnings: 5 cents (although it would have been 10 in Michigan.) Also, he was able to post about all the garbage on OCR courses and how terrible it is that nobody cares about litter to twelve different OCR Facebook groups, which earned him a total of 374 likes and 51 comments of agreement, forestalling the time when he had to gaze into the empty blackness of his own soul for a full 31 hours.

(Credits: Most names generated randomly at Behind The Name. Photo is actually Dr. Brené Brown; Photo by Dell Inc., licensed under CC BY 2.0 via https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dr._Brene_Brown_at_Texas_Conference_for_Women_(cropped).jpg)

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Time for the Terrordome

If only it were that easy.

Tomorrow is the Chicago Spartan Super, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared before a race.

There’s the concern about my fitness level, although that’s not that unusual. Of much more concern is the conditions.

Tomorrow it’s scheduled to be 95 and humid. And my heat (no pun intended) is at 11:45.

I can’t blame myself for not preparing for that part. We’ve had a pretty cool year so far; I doubt we hit 80 around here before today. So there’s not even been any chance to get acclimated to the extreme heat a little bit before running in it.

I hope there’s enough water. Spartan is normally good with the logistics of races, which is a good sign (Last year’s Vermont race notwithstanding) but there have been a couple ungood signs as well. First off: On Monday this week, they sent an email asking for volunteers for this weekend. In all the Spartans I’ve done (this one makes 6, so that’s a pretty grandiose way of putting it) I haven’t gotten one of these requests. I don’t know what exactly that means, but the obvious fear is that the event will be understaffed. And, while hopefully that won’t affect water (or anything else; I’m certainly capable of demanding that everything be perfect because I’m special!), since water is going to be one of the most safety-critical factors tomorrow, I can’t say I’m not frightened that it might.

A second bad sign: I haven’t gotten any kind of confirmation email from Spartan about the event—you know, the “here’s your bib number, here’s your heat time, here’s the stuff you need to know, print out your waiver before you come” thingy. I’m registered—I got my heat time from the website—so this glitch is something that may be nothing or may be a sign of an impending shitshow. I hope it’s the former (and, to be clear, Spartan has sent out other stuff to me, including updates to the parking situation since apparently the planned lot has flooded) but anxiety is a magnet to itself.

Anyhow, I’ve already made a couple concessions to the heat. First off: No Fez of Inspiration. It’s a stiff fabric that wouldn’t retain water (a friend recommended soaking a hat in water to cool off during the race, but that’s not practical with the fez) but would trap heat. Second, I’ve already planned a run/walk cycle, rather than the usual “try to run the whole thing” approach that I’ve tried but not succeeded at in an outdoor Spartan yet. 3 minutes running, 1 minute walking. Hard limit to start; if I get a couple hours in and am feeling okay I might extend it, but I’d really like to not collapse.

My code for the memory wall is HOTEL 1991845. If I don’t get credit for remembering the code for a full year after it was included but not checked last year then I will personally poop on someone’s face.

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Filed under Funny, Obstacle Course Racing, Spartan Race

Rise of the Sufferfests: A Review of the Reviews

Rise of the Sufferfests posterSo, the big news out of OCRsylvania this week is that there’s now a documentary about OCR.

It’s tricky to say what I want to say about it, because I don’t want to be a dick, but I hope to encourage reaction to it that’s constructive. I probably will fail somewhat at the first part, and probably the second part too, but let’s go.

Point 1: I think it is important to remember here that the person who has created something has done a much more impressive thing than someone who comments on it. So regardless of what the movie is, props to the filmmakers for planning, funding, and executing the project.

Point 2: I haven’t seen the film. So when I talk about the movie, I’m talking about the concept of a documentary about OCR, rather than this movie itself.

Point 3: This movie has parallels to another movie whose paths I’ve traveled in the same general vicinity of but haven’t crossed. Without giving identifying detail, at the time I was working for a professional association, and someone produced a documentary about the profession and how it was portrayed in the media. This subject was catnip to said profession. The membership magazine for which I worked had a monthly department devoted to it, and when people felt like complaining (a constant occurrence), “contributing to negative stereotypes of the profession” was a common and easily retweetable criticism. There were even association presidential campaigns that included fighting the stereotype as central parts of their platforms.

This obsession didn’t increase my respect for the profession one bit.* And while the movie’s premiere (which took place at the association’s annual conference) was a big event within said conference, it didn’t translate into the Oscar nomination the producers expected (I promise I am not making that up) or any kind of distribution deal or anyone that I’m aware of thinking about it once the conference was over.

Well, I guess I think of it periodically, whenever I need an example of how self-obsessed the profession can be. But the desperation for legitimacy embiggened no one, and the same could be said for OCR. It’s legitimate, regardless of whether there’s a movie about it or not.**

Point 4: I’ve seen two reviews, from Mud Run Fun and Obstacle Racing Media.*** Both have been raves, which is great, but I think they do the movie no favors.

Neither gives me much reason to see the movie, apart from their assertion that the movie’s great and that it’s about an activity that I enjoy. Beyond that… it’s about the history of the sport, and it has interviews with prominent figures in the industry, and there’s something about the filmmaker’s journey.

But that doesn’t really tell me much about what the story actually is, let alone whether it’s well told. Is it a straightforward history, or is there some bit of focus or insight that’s noteworthy? The characters are eccentric, one of the reviews promises, but are they eccentric for eccentricity’s sake, or eccentric because that’s their brand and appearing eccentric is good for business, or because they genuinely see the world in a way that most people don’t and have adapted their actions to reflect it?

Is the story uplifting? Funny? A tale of interpersonal conflict? A lesson in how to build an industry? Or is it just a bunch of people shouting about how they matter? By not giving much information about what the story is, the reviews kind of suggest that it’s the last. I hope that’s not true.

Point 5: “OCR enthusiast” isn’t a victim class. The reviews claim that the movie will help OCR enthusiasts explain why they enjoy the activity to people who think they’re nuts. But I’ve never had any trouble with that. “Because I enjoy being outside, and in nature, doing obstacles that are unusual and challenging” has always been enough for me. And if it’s not, one of the really nice bits about being a grown up is that I have the wherewithal to not care.

In any event, it’s no more difficult than explaining why you enjoy, say, spending huge amounts of money to hit a little white ball with a variety of different sticks for three minutes over four and a half hours, or smearing pigmented ink on a piece of stretched canvas or using cards to try to win other cards by comparing the values on the cards, only sometimes some of the cards are worth more or less than the value they have based on arbitrary rules, but golfers, painters, and card-players don’t tend to feel the need to have a documentary to explain their hobbies. So I guess this might be point 3A.

Point 6: My rampant cynicism has shown throughout this piece, hasn’t it. So let’s pull that back a bit. It is cool that there’s a movie about OCR, and it’s okay to be excited, and I do genuinely wish the producers all the best with it. But the reviews I’ve seen seem to take enjoying the movie as a duty, rather than a natural reaction to it. If liking the movie is a duty, well, I get that. (My magazine from point 3 certainly pimped the movie plenty.****) But if it’s a movie that genuinely warrants wide viewing on its own merits, make that case.

* Which is a shame, because I think it’s fundamentally a force for good, even though it gets a lot of the details wrong.

** Although if you really want legitimacy from a movie, you need to get a porn movie take on it. That’s why everyone loves Star Trek so much.

*** Full disclosure: I’ve contributed two posts to ORM. I am not on their staff, however, and I’m writing this post without their approval or awareness.

**** Admittedly, less than the producers wanted. They believed it warranted a monthly column. Again, I’m not making that up.

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Obstacle Course Racing and the Olympics, or “Why?”

If I wanted to troll OCR Facebook groups, which they certainly deserve but on the other hand, how is it possible not to be better than that, I would post the following article to them:

Climbing Passes Major Hurdle on Road to 2020 Olympics,” Climbing, June 2, 2016.

I don’t think it’s hard to predict the types of responses such a post would get: a chorus of cries of injustice at OCR’s continued overlookedness, probably pointing at the current batch of top OCR athletes as exemplars of what Olympic athletes ought to be, as well as a (probably significantly smaller) chorus of vows to renew efforts to get OCR into the Olympics (without a lot of detail of how one does that, particularly if one isn’t working for a sport’s governing body. Does that exist for OCR, by the way, apart from the individual companies that put on races? I’ve kind of lost track). Also there would probably be a lot of words in ALL CAPS and a LOT of EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!!!!! because OCR Facebook groups tend to be populated by people who do that. (I lurk on several, and finally decided to drop out of Spartan 4-0 when I realized that their claim to be a group for mature Spartan racers meant that it was a group of people who are mature in the sense of a racist grandma who just got an email account.)

But I wonder if asking “why?” wouldn’t be useful. Specifically, why does anyone want OCR in the Olympics?

Okay, well, we could start at its most prominent advocate. Spartan Race founder Joe De Sena wants it in. I don’t know that he’s ever officially said why (the best I found in a very quick and decidedly non-comprehensive Google search was that there aren’t other sports that “capture the true spirit of the Olympic games the same way Obstacle Racing Does“). I assume that he thinks it would be good for business, and it would be good for ego as well. (And despite the bluntness with which I say both of those things, I don’t think either is wrong: we’re all in this life for ourselves, and that can often lead to creating good for others as well. And, as Community put it: Astronauts don’t go to the moon because they hate oxygen, they go to impress the girls who rejected them in high school.)

And I get that the Olympics traditionally have a cachet. I mean, the first Olympics of my memory was 1984, that patriotic smorgasbord when the USA was clearly the best, because none of the other countries that were any good at anything came in retaliation for our boycott in 1980. But everyone sure got a lot of free crap from McDonald’s!

But how much Olympic cachet is left, and how much will be left in four or eight years? There’s, apparently, a bunch of medals from the past few Olympics in jeopardy due to better drug testing, which kind of suggests that the whole point of the Olympics these days is to cheat as much as you can without getting caught while making sure that everybody else gets caught for the same cheating. And bribery scandals. Even badminton seems to be a total den of crapulence. And terrorism. And Zika. And so on.

If OCR gets into the Olympics, there would suddenly be a bunch of national federations viewing it as a potential tick in their quest for medal standing supremacy. Would that lead to wackadoodleness? Probably; when goals are set so clearly, means of achieving them are frequently not judged too carefully. Is it worth it to OCR to invite them into the sport?

Hard to say. And that’s a genuine “I don’t know” rather than a passive-aggressive, you’ll-be-sorry “I don’t know.” Lots of sports have had scandals and gone on to do really well, and the added exposure may well be worth the headaches.

I’m into OCR as a participant, rather than a spectator, so I don’t particularly care if it ever makes it into the Olympics. And the Olympics seem to be becoming more of a slog, or maybe an excuse for posturing, than an expression of peace and joy through sport, which only increases my indifference. (To roughly 750 words, if you’re counting!)

But ultimately, I hope that the sport gets what it wants. Or, more accurately, that it wants what it gets.

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OCR Idea: The Additive OCR

A while back, I came up with some ideas for tweaks to the OCR race format. Here’s another one: the additive OCR.

Most competitive OCRs punish failures either by imposing penalty burpees/laps/whatnot, or by making competitors try again until success or be disqualified. Instead of that model, what about something more positive, where competitors score points for the obstacles they do complete?

On its own, that’s pretty lame. But there’s another twist: Each obstacle has several options, with more difficult ones being worth more. So, climbing a 6-foot wall might be worth one point, while a 7-foot wall could be 2, and 8 feet worth 3. (Or perhaps more; I haven’t worked out an economy for this.) Herc hoist could have varying weights; monkey bars could have varying lengths, lengths between bars, angled bars, or options to do the whole thing backwards; and the spear throw could have unlimited throws, scoring one point for each hit—but if you miss, your score for the obstacle goes down to zero. And so on, and so on.

One more detail: Every obstacle is one shot. You select the option you’re going for, and you get one shot. Complete it successfully and you score; fail and you get zero points but no other penalty.

The obvious disadvantages:

  • It requires more infrastructure; a race set up like this would need to have each of the obstacle options in place. It wouldn’t necessarily need an exponential increase in obstacles—instead of, say, 4 lanes of one obstacle, you’d need one lane of 4 versions of that obstacle. But you’d actually probably need more than that, since the competitive heats would probably cluster at the harder versions, while the general heats would likely cluster at the less hard versions.
  • It requires an “economy” of achievement valuations to be developed. That’s a daunting task, if for no other reason than it would be trying to compare things that aren’t directly comparable, but it’s also a finite task that wouldn’t need a huge amount of continuing work.
  • It complicates refereeing and scoring. I’m not sure that it would be much worse than where OCR is heading, though—OCRs kind of already require monitoring for completion at every obstacle to ensure fairness, so noting a score at the same time, particularly if the obstacles are monitored by video wouldn’t be that difficult. I can at least sort of envision how it would work—probably with cameras trained on every obstacle feeding video to a central location with a few judges monitoring and keeping score. Like golf.
  • While I think scoring would be feasible for the elite heats, it would be more or less impossible for the rest of us. We’d have to keep track ourselves. Which would make relative rankings impossible.
  • It diminishes the “race” aspect—at least a bit. Although races could create a value for race completion time and factor that in as they choose.

I think the advantages are kind of interesting, though. They include:

  • Exceptional ability can be rewarded. Races like to call their obstacles EPIC!!!, but a race where none of the obstacles can be completed by anyone other than a world-class athlete is probably not going to be much fun to run unless you are a world-class athlete. This approach would allow an option for harder options—9- or 10-foot walls, massive heavy-thing carries, and so on—without clearly declaring to the rest of us how worthless we are.
  • There would be an easier progression for the rest of us. Some obstacles are far enough above my ability that completing them is impossible to even visualize. This would create smaller steps to make progress a lot more feasible.
  • It could reduce the importance of running speed in competitive rankings. Exceptional ability at various obstacles would provide a path to competitiveness. As it stands now, for example, being able to scale a 9-foot wall has no advantage over being able to scale an 8-foot wall. This would reward exceptional climbers, rather than setting a level that is “good enough” and punishing anyone who falls short.
  • It may improve the TV spectatability of OCR. Outside of dedicated fans, long races (of any type) aren’t particularly exciting on TV—the action is generally pretty steady-state, and at any given point one competitor’s standing relative to another’s isn’t likely to change much. OCR has this problem too: On most obstacles, elite racers will not be much different from one another. In this model, every obstacle (if designed properly) would have an impact on the final results, as racers pick different options and just about every obstacle has the potential for failure if the racer chooses over-ambitiously.


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Getting OCR into the Olympics

Spartan head person Joe De Sena quite famously has a goal of getting obstacle course racing into the Summer Olympics.

Personally, I’m completely indifferent to this goal. I’m unlikely to ever compete Olympically, and while I recognize that growth in the industry is likely to have positive impacts on the availability and quality of races I have the opportunity to participate in, I have no idea whether seeking Olympichood is the most effective method of achieving that growth.

Nevertheless, I do love a good theoretical puzzle, so I’ve been wondering about what needs to happen to get OCR into the Olympics. And, while I can’t claim to be an expert on getting sports into the Olympics, I do have a few ideas that range from amusing to legitimate to completely-stupid-but-also-kind-of-thought-provoking-in-that-Ig-Nobel-Prize way.* And here they are:

Fantasy OCR: Let me start by saying that fantasy sports are something I don’t understand, in the sense that they don’t appeal to me and I can’t fathom anything that would lead me to join such a league. However, I have asked a friend who plays in multiple fantasy football leagues why he does so. According to him, fantasy football is great, because—and this is a direct quote—“Because it forces me to be excited about games that I don’t care about.”

One could certainly debate the moral gelatinousness of being forced to care about things you don’t care about, but that’s not important for this discussion. What is important is the fact that a sport with legions of fans is more likely to be added to the Olympic roster than one that has obsessive participants but whose only fans are people who know those participants personally and that one creepy guy on the internet.** And if millions of people don’t necessarily enjoy it but they start feeling compelled to obsess about every week’s results, well, that’s as good as fandom to the Olympic committee.***

Synchronized OCR: It worked for swimming. And diving. And biathlon. (It’s a shame synchronized biathlon**** doesn’t make the broadcast that often.) And none of this Team Ninja Warrior shit, where (as far as I can tell without owning a TV) it’s just a head-to-head race—to be Olympic-worthy, the synchronicity has to be judged, and it has to be judged separately from the performance, so it’s okay to perform absolutely shittily, as long as you perform absolutely shittily in synchronicity with your teammate. That’s what viewers want.

All the human interest stories: Olympic broadcasts, these days, are about 12% sport and 388% human interest. (Are there four channels of Olympic broadcasts these days? I know there was the Triplecast fiasco a while ago, but now there’s eight billion cable channels and there’s a limit to how many times the tapes of Wings can be played before they’ll disintegrate, so there’s probably more now.)

Anyhow, to be television-ready, every competitor should prepare a 3-5 minute multimedia package about their biggest failure, their greatest tragedy, and the childhood hero who changed their life. They should also prepare 3-5 backups for each in case their first choice is duplicated by a more prominent athlete. They also need to provide good B-roll footage of training (preferably including that shot where you clap freshly chalked hands together and the chalk flies everywhere), crying, and interacting with actors portraying an inspirationally disabled relative.

Americanization: We could pretend that the Olympics are about sport, or we could grow the fuck up and realize they’re about cash. I assume that the bulk of revenues from the Olympics come from TV deals, and that the U.S. is the most lucrative TV market there is (since we’re the ones with the wherewithal to watch at least 306 hours of television apiece over two weeks.)

Now, the Olympics do require sports to be played in a reasonably large number of countries before they’ll be considered. But Americans want to watch Americans win medals. We don’t give no fucks ‘bout foreigners, stealing our medals and impregnating our wimmins. So anyone with a legitimate shot at gold should defect. Except that a Canadian can win occasionally, as long as their top rival that year is Russian.

Mud Girls: Sex sells, so lots of sports have incorporated eye candy into their culture, in the form of ladies whose work is absolutely critical to the functioning of the match, while purely coincidentally having large breasts. There’s the Oakland Raiderettes, the Chicago Blackhawks Ice Crew, MMA Ring Girls, and, hottest of all, the Phillie Phanatic.

Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders Kickline

That last paragraph wasn’t entirely correct. In addition to having very large breasts, they also wear extremely small shorts. Public domain image by Big Cowboy Kev via https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dallas_Cowboys_cheerleaders_Kick_Line.jpg

Now, OCR likes to think that it’s above that, and as far as I know, most participants are.***** But much as how the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders don’t actually have much of an impact on whether Dez Bryant catches that pass, the mud girls wouldn’t be there for the participants, but for the spectators. Anything for eyeballs!

In the name of equality, there probably should be mud boys as well. But while ladies would appreciate it, all of my cultural knowledge says that women get more turned on by emotion than visual stimulation. And thus, to serve them, there needs to also be…

OCR Erotica: Written-word porn is a powerful thing. 50 Shades of Grey—that bit of Twilight fanfiction gone horribly, horribly wrong—has been cited as one of the factors that helped Great Britain emerge from recession in 2012. (By a comedian, but cited nonetheless!)

So if someone turns OCR into a good popular porn romance series, then OCR’s burgeoning economic power would sweep it into the Olympics in a heartbeat. Seems like it’s time to figure out how spears, cargo nets, and monkey bars can produce female orgasms.

* As an aside, is it appropriate to award myself “The Ig Nobel Prize of OCR?” Because I like to think I could pull that off. If nothing else, that will be my Olympic dream.

** Not me. I’m that other creepy guy on the internet.

*** And nearly as good as a hefty, hefty bribe.

**** Biathlon is actually my closest Olympic connection, because when my brother was a kid and I was a much younger kid, he was on a swim team with Olympic biathlete Joan Guetschow. I mean, she wasn’t an Olympic biathlete at the time, but she eventually became one.

***** That’s a potentially huge bag of worms, so let me rephrase slightly: The culture of OCR seems to be one of respecting people, both men and women, for their accomplishments rather than creepily stalking them and turning them into sexual objects for their appearance. At least I have not seen or experienced any form of sexual harassment. But then again, to sexually harass me someone would have to be blind, stupid, racist, indifferent to humanity, suffering from acute appendicitis, and blind again. So I’m not a terribly valid authority on the subject. If it is an issue, then I hope that it can be discussed and eliminated. Now, back to hypothetical objectification for comedic purposes!

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Filed under Commentary, Funny, Obstacle Course Racing, OCR Ideas, OCR in culture