Back on Mother’s Day, I ran a virtual 10K road race. With a virtual race, all the entrants run the specified distance on a specific day, then submit their results. I had a fine experience in May, though my first place victory among male runners was somewhat diminished by the fact that a cheering section of exactly one person saw me win.

That cheering section was my partner Maggie, who rode her bicycle to meet me at several spots along my improvised race route, toting a cowbell to encourage me. Near the end of the run, we managed to confuse the hell out of some passersby in hilarious fashion. Said passersby apparently noticed her waiting, then heard her as she began ringing the bell. Shortly after, I came running into view with a prominent race bib on, and flew right past them. Maggie said they then spent an amusing amount of time watching the road I’d come from, apparently hoping to spot more runners.

Anyhow, that particular race was created as something which would take place in person, before the COVID-19 pandemic forced an overhaul. When the organizer shifted things for our new reality, I figured I might as well still take part. Of late, however, I’ve received quite a few emails attempting to get me to sign up for races that are virtual from the get-go. Personally, I don’t find that concept very compelling. I suspect I’m far from alone, which probably explains the extra aggressive marketing I’ve been getting for these pseudo-events.

Recently, one email (entitled “Summer is NOT canceled!”) included this bit of nonsense:

I don’t think we can. I think that’s kind of the point.