You probably know I have done a lot of running races - 5ks, half-marathons, etc. Most of these are local in origin. I've done some big ones, but even those are not particularly noteworthy to anyone except people running in them, or perhaps the drivers who have their commutes interrupted by road closures. So it astonishes me that people work hard to cheat at them. Honestly, what does that get you?
We usually do dishonest things for the sake of either money or status, and believe me, short of being Olympic-level elite, there is no money in running. Or at least it seems there is no money without cheating. Evidently a while back there was a trainer with a history of doping his near-elite runners. Said runners would then enter mid-level races -- too small for elites, but locally popular enough to have $500-$1000 victory prizes. These doped high-end runners, often Kenyans, would dominate the locals and disappear with their prize money before anyone thought to check on their history. Do this for 5 or so races a month and you can make a passable income or, if you live cheaply, a healthy amount of money to send back to your relatives in Kenya. Be a trainer with a stable of runners doing this and your cut could amount to real money. Here's the original story.
A couple of years ago a popular local race called the Dexter-Ann Arbor run had a scare along these lines, when a Kenyan runner won the half-marathon and started immediately demanding his prize money right away. Everybody got suspicious and there was a multi-week delay as the race authorities looked into it. Eventually the runner was found to be legit and got his money.
But most cheating is not that nefarious. The latest scandal concerned Dr. Frank Meza who seemed to set the over-70 marathon record in LA, then got suspected of cheating; basically taking shortcuts to skip sections of the course. Though he denied everything, evidence mounted. It makes sense that he's old since you would have to be from a different era to expect you can do anything in public with there being photographic evidence. In the end he was disqualified. This wasn't the first time he had been accused of cheating. He was disqualified twice from the Sacramento marathon for the same reason. Then things took a tragic turn three days later when he was found dead, cause ruled to be suicide.
Again, why cheat? This is a fully-mature, 70-year-old man; a retired physician. What on earth is he getting out of this? What is the obsession that would make him do such a thing? Is it a blow against mortality? As long as he keeps running faster he's not dying. Irrational or not, conscious or not, there must be some motivating force. What is it? I guess we'll never know.
Other cheating is more prosaic, like bib stealing. What a crook can do is steal a bib (a paid participants number that gets attached to your shirt to validate your entry) and sell it online. Some very popular races cost into the hundreds, so selling a handful of stolen bibs can be a nice quick piece of cash. It is reprehensible, but at least I understand it. Like most thievery, it's done for the money.
It's also astoundingly stupid. Racers are photographer throughout the course by companies hoping to sell them commemorative photos. All the victim has to do is find a picture of you after the race, go on social media to locate you, then call the police. They can then charge you and whoever you bought it from online. Frankly, short of trying to rob a police station, I can't think of a stupider crime. But it happens. My rule for life: Never do anything in public you would not want to see on YouTube.
Here's an interesting scam. This woman hangs out on Instagram and looks for folks who post pictures of their race bibs before the race. She then makes copies of them, essentially racing for free. In these instances, money is not the motivation. What could it be? Health? No. Certainly there is a health benefit to being able to run a 5k or something, but it doesn't come from the medal or the t-shirt. You get the same benefit from running around your neighborhood. Most of the positive motivations like love or altruism don't come into play. So what's left?
Why, our old friend Status, of course. Not in a straightforward sense -- trust me, no cares that you ran the Princess 10k at Disney in any important way. It's the Facebook photo. The image of being one of those fit people, but without actually making the sacrifice. It's your public brand. Look at the photo on the top of this page. Five girls, one bib number. You can't tell me this wasn't all for the purposes of Facebook/Instagram personality positioning. They desperately want to portray themselves as fun and fit and vibrant and gain all the Likes. To that end, they probably all pitched in for one bib then photocopied it. Scroll down on this page and look at the social media exchange at the bottom. Astonishing. If you want to understand better the interaction of status and social media, read Eugene Wei on status as a service.
This is entertaining in the same way watching a bungling incompetent is. Let's face it, when the stakes are so low, it's hard to get righteously indignant. But people who set up and work the races work hard, usually for a higher cause. Look at it this way, you wouldn't ignore someone who was shoplifting a $50 watch, so why would you turn a blind eye to someone copying a bib for a $50 race? (Broken windows, maybe?)
That said, you also have to admit that the profound level of stupidity involved does make it outright comical.
And yet, as with all fun and games, at some point something bad happens. Frank Meza almost certainly cheated, for reasons we will never truly know. He almost certainly deserved the minor shame that was cast on him. He also almost certainly didn't deserve to die.
Perhaps the common thread in all of this is an absence of perspective.
