I learned about Type 2 fun from a group of cyclists I know who are the best kind of crazy—the produce kind. The kind that will do what others won’t; who break through a challenge headfirst and immediately turn around to charge the next one.
The group had all just completed 100 miles on bicycles, were covered in dirt, drinking a well-deserved beer as though it was the only thing keeping them going. In all fairness, it probably was.
I sat in wonder as they each flinched with even the slightest movement, discussing probable blisters and definite bruises. For me, it wasn’t even the fact they had all willingly put themselves through so much, it was that they had paid to do so. The entry fee for the ride had been $124.
These are the ones who taught me about the principle of finding the fun in something you swore in the moment you would never do again. Your muscles are aching, your body is stressed, sweat is pouring down your face, and you’re wondering why you are here.
Type 1 fun is what we all associate with the word. These are the gatherings with friends, the joyful adventures, the moments in which you are grinning ear to ear from start to finish. There is no question of its glory, but when it’s over, that is it. It’s a memory. A moment you might recall wistfully that may come with some good calories and great conversations.
Type 2 fun is not this way. There is anticipation and excitement when it approaches, along with—probably—some apprehension. Yet, when the “fun” takes place, you wonder what you were thinking. Not until the challenge is over and the pain and/or strain begins to ebb does Type 2 set in. That is when you begin to recall the experience with fondness and, yes, fun. You can’t wait to do it again, despite promises in the moment you wouldn’t.
It will be hard, and you know it will be hard. But, to quote A League of Their Own, “The hard is what makes it great.”
Likewise, the battered and bruised cyclists who were cursing themselves and the friends who supported this ridiculous habit were inevitably going to spend the next days—nay, months—recounting every curve, every climb, every fall. They would go over every detail and the agony of the moment while grinning and signing up for yet another ride.
"Not until the challenge is over and the pain and/or strain begins to ebb does Type 2 set in."
Something in the pain, the heat, and the sweat gives them a lasting joy that surpasses any Type 1 fun. It carries them through to the next big ride, where the cycle will inevitably start again.
In this, I see the people of fresh produce.
Admittedly, I’ve only heard of Type 2 fun in the world of sports and exercise, usually from the insane breed of people who have themselves told me they like to feel the pain of pushing their muscles a little too far.
If I turn these moments into fields of vegetables, trees of fruit, and the apprehension of what Mother Nature has in store for both, I see those who also sign up again and again for the rush of the hard that makes life great.
I have no doubt this sounds familiar—I’m sure you, too, are drawing parallels to the produce life, just as I did. It’s one riddled with challenges; trying to control what many argue is untamable. But those who have chosen this calling not only take on this struggle every day, they are some of the kindest, most interesting people I’ve ever known, who are experts at having a great time!
How many times has a boss, a buyer, or even I called to see if the latest weather report is about to mess with everyone’s plans? I assure you, there is a trade news graveyard in which many stories rest in peace because the winds of change rendered them defunct.
Yet, when next we meet, we’ll talk about how much we still love the job. We’ve never been bored and couldn’t fathom the feeling of predictability. Bitten by the produce bug, as it were.
In this struggle, we all see the rewards. We recall the challenges as making the wins that much greater. And we worry that the generation following us won’t understand how to sit in this discomfort necessary to attain the prize of our career path.
One of the most frequent questions I hear buzzing around the industry is about who will carry it all next. Who will the torch pass to in a generation more immersed in technology, farther removed from tangibility, and promised instant gratification at nearly every turn? How can we show them why we love this hectic, high-demand, no-set-hours vocation?
The answer, I truly believe, is in Type 2 fun.
"If I turn these moments into fields of vegetables, trees of fruit, and the apprehension of what Mother Nature has in store for both, I see those who also sign up again and again for the rush of the hard that makes life great."
The above dynamics influencing Gen Z and beyond are true, yet there is no shortage of up-and-coming climbers, skydivers, or even cyclists despite the challenges of these sports. Maybe even because of those challenges.
While some studies show attention spans getting shorter, the up-and-coming workforce is also a generation obsessed with experience. With adrenaline. With accomplishment. With the daring side of life.
Type 2 fun, like produce, is an immersive experience—it calls to the blood and transcends generations, getting under the skin to become part of the whole. As it did for any one of us, all that is needed is to take that first bite.
Gen Z and beyond understand Type 2 fun. It is a language we all speak. If we as an industry can show them how our chosen lines of work align with the joy and challenge of the athletic world’s term for hard-earned gratification, the call for adventure will be heard and answered. 
