I volunteered to help at a triathlon this past weekend, and the experience was eye-opening. First of all, it sucked getting up at 5:00 AM to drive over to the race site, but it was very much less stressful than racing. I think only twice I was rueful that I myself wasn't participating. What was most entertaining was the body marking portion of the volunteer work. Well, handing out water was also somewhat entertaining, and I promised not to say the word "water" for three days, having exhausted my allotted supply of the word "water".

If you don't already know, triathletes must have their numbers marked on their bodies. The number of markings is illogically excessive. The race number must be placed on both upper arms, the side of one thigh, and the front of the other thigh, plus the age of the athlete is marked on the back of the calf with the category on the back of the other calf (such as Athena, Clydesdale, Beginner, etc). At the end of the body marking session, a triathlete looks as if she has been attacked by a rabid black marker.

So, it was kind of fun for me to attack people with the black permanent marker. And these people were wound up, nervous, jittery. They jumped from side to side trying to guess in advance which body part I would attack next.

One male volunteer was intuitive enough to request that I assist him with marking a young lady who was being a little stubborn about removing her clothing so that her body parts could be adorned with numbers. I don't think she was reticent or demure, but rather a beginner who didn't know what to do. I coaxed her into pulling her pants down for the thigh markings, then pulling the legs of her pants up for the calf markings. Unfortunately, by the end of it, I felt like I had violated her.

The most difficult people to body mark are excessively hairy males and those who slathered on three bottles of sunscreen. I had to circumvent only one arm-covering tattoo, as those with body-covering tattoos tend to ride Harleys instead of Cervelos.

Handing out water entailed screaming WATER!!! WATER!!!! WATER!!! ad infinitum while pitying those who sounded as if they might hack up a lung. I envisioned running alongside certain triathletes, screaming, "TAKE MY WATER, DAMMIT, OR I WILL RUN ALONGSIDE YOU UNTIL YOU DO!" But that would be a little TOO helpful, wouldn't it? I feel so very loved when you take my water. Like Quasimodo's girlfriend.