Gay Games VII Exemplifies the Ideals of Inclusion, Participation and Personal Best

By Jason Stone - 8/01/2006

CHICAGO - One spornographic week in Chicago has been the highlight of my summer.  Participating in the Gay Games VII is the gayest thing I’ve ever done. I can’t wait to do it again.

The Gay Games are open to anyone.  There are no qualifying events, no minimum or maximum requirements, and no mandatory affiliations. The Games are built on the founding principles of Participation, Inclusion, and Personal Best, and promote a supportive environment, free from bigotry, where participants achieve success by their own measure. More than a tournament
or cultural program, the Gay Games is a gathering of the international sports and arts community that changes lives, attitudes, and the very nature of competition.

Inclusion - I had a layover in Salt Lake City on my way to Chicago. Salt Lake City where my forefathers and 28 foremothers settled in 1847 and where the momosexuals are rampant, and cute. I immediately recognized several “family” members by my finely tuned gaydar and their Jackie O. fabulous glasses. We became fast friends while waiting for our baggage (the baggage
we checked with the airline, not with our therapists), and headed to downtown Chi-town on the subway. There was a transcendent friendliness that bonded all the Gay Games VII (GGVII) participants together. Conversations blossomed easily, like a drag queen at her first gay prom.

I had the distinct honor and privilege of staying at the Historic Palmer House Hilton, with it’s handsome concierge, John, the extremely large. . . lobby. It was breathtaking, and the lobby was pretty too. The Palmer House, as you leather daddies undoubtedly know, is the historic
home of the International Man of Leather Competition that takes place every year on Memorial Day. While ass-less chaps and collars may have been ubiquitous in May, in July the lobby was filled with sporty men and women you could chip a tooth on. At the registration desk I heard the international chatter of men and women from Germany, France, Australia and England.

It seems that everywhere I went I fell in with great athletes and athletic supporters.  The Toronto Triggerfish (water polo) invited me on an architectural boat tour of Chicago because those Canadians are so freakin’ nice, eh? I connected with a great friend of a friend, who graciously answered all my questions about the parties and what I should pack, and who also played a mean game of tennis.

Whether I was watching my gay Mormon brethren (QUAC Water Polo) wrestle the Londoners for balls in the water, or fantastic bronze gods and goddesses dig in, dive and bump in beach volleyball, I met interesting, athletic, artistic and extremely fabulous people.

Participation - The Opening Ceremonies were breathtaking. Twelve thousand athletes participated in the Games. We marched in sensible shoes (heels were not permitted because they tear up the turf) into Soldier Field by country, then by state. The feeling as we approached the doors to the stadium was electric. While I was the only participant in the games from Montana, there were several others that joined in solidarity, having some connection to Montana.

Initially, I felt a little like the Jamaican Bobsled team in the Winter Olympics - Fabulous Runnings - I could almost hear Bob Costas saying “And here we have Montana, fielding a team of one. Apparently there’s at least one Gay in Montana. It’s a victory for him to even be here.” But thank Dysmorphia - the bitch goddess of eating disorders – for the tragic romance of Brokeback Mountain, and the geographically challenged hot aquatics boys of New York. Take a bite out
of those big apples.

When I charged into the stadium and heard the resonant baritone voice of the announcer echo “MONTANA” every hair I hadn’t shaved off for the triathlon the next morning stood on end. I was filled with an incredible awe and wonderment. The stadium was full, and people were cheering, music was playing, it was incredibly majestic and powerful. Great cheers lit up the stadium for Wyoming in memory of Matthew Shepard, and for Uganda with its sole representative.

After the final tidal wave of athletes from Chicago and Illinois flooded onto the field, and the crowd swelled in its cheering with the crescendo of the music, the lights went black, and every athlete and artist took his or her or his/her colored flashlight and across the floor was a living rainbow flag made up of gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered athletes and artists in celebration of the moment and who we are as individuals and as a worldwide community.

Personal Best - I raced the triathlon on the morning after the Opening Ceremonies. I had to be in my spandex by 4:00 am and at the start by 4:30. It was an early start to a blisteringly hot day and I had the best race of my life. I was flooded with emotion as I shimmied into my wetsuit (Can you imagine being in Chicago and NOT wearing rubber?) The other triathletes and I swam up the shoreline of Monroe Harbor of Lake Michigan. For a kid who dreamed of the Olympics, and loved to wear spandex, that was heaven. Swimming, biking, running. Competing.

I broke out of the water 20th in the field with a time of 12:57 seconds – my fastest time for an open water half mile swim. I drew myself out of the water just like Bo Derrick in Ten. After peeling off the wetsuit I hit the bike. I cycled along Lake Shore Drive north towards Boystown and then back to the transition area in 43 minutes. It was a phenomenal bike race: a Tour de Fags. There were people along side the road with flags and banners cheering on each spandex clad triathlete.

My favorite parts of the triathlon were over at this point. The run was waiting at the end of the triathlon like the Family Circus waits at the end of the comics page waiting to suck. But I was pleasantly surprised.  Apparently whenever there’s sucking at the Gay Games it’s enjoyable. I ran very well, cut my time and made a move on the Frenchman ahead of me.

I was not prepared for the IQ test at the last mile. This cleverly disguised test sent both me and the Frenchman off course and resulted in us each running about a mile farther than we should have. As I darted back the way I came, and in the general direction of the finish line, I was a little
annoyed I’d taken a running tour of Chicago in the middle of my triathlon, and more annoyed it had not taken me by Pizzeria Due’s deep dish pizza.

The Frenchman and I burst out of the trees near the finish line looking like we had either just cruised the park for action and were back for more, or had followed the Rosie Ruiz training guide for the Boston Marathon. Regardless, when we crossed the finish line, there were cheers and ovations. It’s hard not to feel good about a race like that.

Competing in the Gay Games in Chicago has been one of the most soul affirming experiences in my life. I’ve made great friends and great connections to an absolutely fabulous gay and lesbian athletic community. The experience was one that changed my life, my attitude, and the very nature of competition.