Event Photos

As a new participant in athletic “events”, I knew little about the ancillary processes that are part of the experience.  On the 5 Boro Tour, I discovered the joys and perils of registering months in advance, picking up packets, and making my way to the appropriate start corral. And I learned about event photos.

I’d only seen a hint of what these were about, on another blog, where the author complained about the high cost of the images, and posted a proof of herself with the photographer’s logo slapped across it.  (Don’t do that; you may not like the price, but it’s called stealing when you use someone else’s work without paying for it.)  The deal is this: for larger events, photography services are supplied.  Your picture is usually snapped at the start  and at the finish, and there may be some shots of you through the course, too.

If the system works correctly, you’ll be identified by your bib number, which the photographer will use to sort your photos out.  A link is sent to each participant, and photos you might spring for are posted, watermarked by the photographer, along with purchase options.  In the case of the 5 Boro (over 32,ooo participants), there were also a vast number of unidentified photos;  about 45,000 the last time I looked.  If you’re compulsive about getting every possible photo you’d like, you could spend years trolling through the unidentified ones.

Here we are at  at the finish line.  It got warmer.  (I’m sad that the humongous bib obscured my lovely green jersey.  Basil looks terrific, though — Bromptons are naturally photogenic.)

Since I was curious about how this all panned out, I watched the pages for a while.  Over the week following the 5 Boro, more and more photos were identified.  In the end, I had a dozen of Basil and me; at that point, the “buy ’em all” download package seemed reasonable.  This was my first big cycling event ever; although I’m unlikely to make buying photos a habit, I’m glad that I have these to immortalize our great New York adventure.

(Tip from someone who has been there:  if a photographer is nearby, do not chug from your water bottle. I wasn’t good at spotting photographers.) (Yes, my oxford cycling shoes and wool socks are dorky when worn with shorts — but they were perfect for this ride.  Dork power, yes!)

It’s worth going over the buying options carefully; they can be structured a bit oddly.  Also, I wouldn’t purchase too early; it’s not clear if you are then entitled to images you may discover after purchase, if you’ve bought when only one or two are available.

(Another tip: to up your chances of finding your own photos, wear high vis; most people don’t.  To improve the odds even more, wear high vis orange — cyclists wearing orange really popped in the thumbnails, and there weren’t many of them.)

Cost?  Well, they aren’t cheap. On the other hand, scattering photographers all over a 40 mile/64.3 km course isn’t done for peanuts, either.  It’s a service, provided at a price.  I’m glad I got to see Basil in action; after all, I’m the one who can’t! Without the commercial service, that wouldn’t have happened.

(Oh, and one last tip:  for a less dishevelled look, knot your bib so that it more less fits.  I’m OK with earned dishevelled — sweat, grit, and messiness go with the territory — but the floppy bib drove me nuts. — and I do like that green, obscured, jersey a lot better than the bib!)