Many years ago, before I had grey in my hair or groans in my bones, I went to University. I learned a tonne of stuff that I promptly forgot, and loads more stuff that I half remember and still hesitantly quote from time to time. And a smattering of things that, if reincarnation happens, I'll probably get reborn knowing.
But one thing I never really learned was how to be competitive. I mean, winning is great and all, but in the top three was usually good enough for me. Maybe the top five. Top ten depending on how many people were there.
The link between University and competitiveness has to do with beer. And two stories.
I went to Salzburg, Austria, for my sophomore year to (slightly) study and (mostly) travel. The first story is to do with a party we had, where we decided it would be a good idea to drink half-litres of beer as quickly as we could. Now, I was the smallest of the guys doing this (hard to imagine now, I know, but I'm slowly kicking adult-onset diabetes' arse. Or at least gently and unstrenuously pushing it around). I was also the youngest, by about six months, which meant because I was from the UK I'd been drinking about five years longer than most of the people there. So I could drink. I had, however, only recently developed a taste for beer. Anyway, I digress. We had the beers, we popped the tops, and I finished mine first. That upset one or two of the guys, who demanded a rematch, because they couldn't believe this shortarse youngster from poncy England could beat them. And I knew I couldn't do it again so I told them. They insisted. I explained that it wasn't that I couldn't drink beer fast, but that I was going to puke cos putting that much fluid in my stomach at once would lead to a disaster. They insisted, and I proved them and myself right. So competing not fun.
Fast forward a year. Back in the US, the Salzburg groups would have a "keg off." The older group bought two kegs, invited everyone from both groups around to a house, and had a race to see who could kill the keg first. So the drinkers were all excited about this prospect, because no young year had beaten the old year in the history of the Salzburg keg off, and we thought we had a shot. Then the beer started pouring, theirs was clear as only American beer can be, and ours was dark and foamy. And I remember one guy from our group being about as pissed as I've ever seen someone about losing a competition they were preordained to lose. Comments along the lines of "It's bullshit," and "It's not fair," echo through the years.
But the year after that, we were the old Salzburgers. IT was our turn to get the keg, and guess who was at the forefront of the move to get the thickest heaviest beer possible, and roll the keg on the way? The same guy who bitched about them doing it to him the year before. Hurrah for competitiveness.
So the whole point of this meandering, misty-eyed look back, is actually the Clipper Race. People keep asking me what you get if you win the race. And you know what? Never crossed my mind to ask. Don't care. Because when you finish something like that, the first thing I'll get is an amazing sense of accomplishment. I should be a pretty damned good sailor at the end of it. Memories. Stories. And isn't that enough? Why does there have to be something you 'get' if you win. Winning the race isn't why I'm doing it. Is that why half the people I know are doing marathons and triathlons and tough mutters? To win?
No, it's the sense of accomplishment. But for some reason when I say it's a boat race they immediately think of winning. I'm going to start asking them what they get if they win their triathlon.
Although having said that, considering the whole race is made up of fifteen races, I'd love to get the yellow pennant on one of the fifteen.......Or how about a Clipper Keg Off?