Warm-up at the Season's Circuit (Winter) – 5K, Vicente López

 
June 28, 2025
Since we arrived with plenty of time to spare, I went to look for the ideal spot to warm up. The choice wasn't hard: the pedestrian path running along the bike lane, right next to the Vial Costero. At that moment, it was practically empty; you could only hear the soft chatter of a few birds—monk parakeets, ovenbirds, and even a chimango caracara—setting the background for the landscape.
The bulk of the runners (almost 3,500 people) had already set off for the 10K. On our end, there were over 1,800 of us in the 5K: a massive turnout, but most prefer to wait around on the spot, doing just a few dynamic movements. For me, it couldn't have been better: an open path to start jogging.
As I finished my routine, the area gradually came to life. I watched more 5K runners arriving and, off in the distance, the first 10K runners making their way back. Soon, a few more athletes—both solo and in groups—joined in walking and jogging along that same stretch. I wrapped up a smooth warm-up of exactly 3 kilometers and stopped.
There were 15 minutes left until the start, and the corral was already packed. Anxiety hung in the air as many squeezed together waiting out those final minutes. Unhurried, I calmly found my spot at the back of the pack, ready to enjoy the ride.
It was there that I witnessed (as a passive observer) a quiet yet uncomfortable scene. Standing before the entry to the corral was a line of event staff (mostly young people) checking that those entering had their race bib attached. The whole bib situation is a story in itself—you see a bit of everything. They ask you to wear it on the front of your shirt (which is what most people usually do), but some prefer the front leg, others the back leg, others their back, and then there are those who forget it or never picked it up.
The point is that this line of "checkers" was stationed there, and if you have your bib, they let you pass without an issue; they never say a word unless they can't see it. At least that's always been my experience—they've always seen mine and never said anything. There are cases where people are wearing it, but because of the cold, they have a thermal shirt or a jacket over it, so they just lift their shirt or unzip their jacket, show it, and walk through. This system doesn't stop bandits, though; in fact, those runners usually jump in about 50 meters ahead once the race starts and then hop out (or get pulled out) at the finish line.
However, what happened here was a different situation altogether. An adult was walking with a young kid (maybe his son). The child was wearing his bib correctly, but the adult wasn't—he had a sweatshirt on and nothing else, so you couldn't tell if he had a bib underneath or not. When the girl respectfully asked him about his bib, he didn't even look at her and kept walking forward completely unfazed, holding the child's hand as he squeezed in among the runners. The girl called out from behind, "Sir! Sir! Your bib!" but the guy gave nothing. With every question, he didn't even glance at her—total indifference. And there I was (along with everyone else around), watching the scene play out.
It was sad, because if that really was a father and son, that "shouldn't" be the example to set. There was also the possibility that he had the bib under his sweatshirt, but why not just show it and be done with it? As I watched the scene, I couldn't help but think of Herman Melville and his short story "Bartleby, the Scrivener," with his famous "I would prefer not to." But here the difference (one of many) was that Bartleby actually voiced his "I would prefer not to," whereas this guy said nothing at all.
Eventually, the girl gave up and alerted another member of the staff. This second staff member walked over and asked him again, but the runner refused to say a word. He stayed completely mute, not even looking at him, and couldn't move forward any further because of the crowd of runners. So, the staff member took a photo of him (or so it seemed to me—maybe he just gestured like he was going to and didn't actually take anything) and walked away. Assuming he did take a picture, what happens next? Will facial recognition AI identify the runner from the race photos and then check if he had a bib registered, handing down a penalty if he didn't (like banning him from future races)? We'll never know.
The contrast couldn't have been starker: on one side, the event staff worker patiently trying to do her job; on the other, an adult teaching a child that rules are for everyone else and that hostile silence is a superpower.
Sometimes races don't just measure our physical performance; they act as a small social microscope where we are exposed exactly as we are. At the end of this episode of "everyday absurdity," I never found out if the guy had his bib under his sweatshirt or if he had simply snuck in, but the message had already been sent.
In just a few short minutes, it was time to run. I left the "Mute Bartleby" to his fate—and to the facial recognition algorithm—adjusted my watch, locked into my own rhythm, and got ready for the only thing that truly mattered at that moment: heading out to run.

Link to Wikiloc: https://es.wikiloc.com/rutas-senderismo/warm-up-for-the-seasons-circuit-race-winter-5k-vicente-lopez-buenos-aires-06-28-2025-277052133