Where do competitors in the Senior Games go when they’re not competing?

To the Senior Games’ Athlete Village, a midway of almost 50 tents and exhibits stretching between Stanford University’s Cobb Stadium, where track and field is held, to the Maples Pavilion, site of basketball and volleyball.

Here, athletes and their families eat, drink and kill time between events.

Here, cultures clash.

Here, people spit for science.

“I like the carnival atmosphere of it,” says strapping, 63-year-old shot putter Charlie Roll of Fanwood, N.J. “They really put a lot of effort into making a whole village out of it.”

Like a village of old, this one centers around its water supply. As part of its pledge to make these games a model of environmental friendliness, organizers included in the registrants’ welcome packages a 24-ounce, stainless steel water bottle. Instead of buying and discarding plastic bottles, competitors were encouraged to slake their thirsts by filling and refilling the silver bottle from 11 spigots set up around the village.

The water, pure snowmelt from the Sierra Nevada, tastes mountain fresh and cold, especially on a hot Palo Alto afternoon.

“What a nice thing to have,” said one woman, as she stooped to fill her bottle at the row of spigots set up at the entrance to the village.

The water was one attraction in the village, but of course, food was another. Curious passersby stopped briefly to eyeball the booth where a Bay Area growers association sold organic and locally grown food.

Mediterranean wraps, but no ribs

The longer line was at the nearby concession that sold hot dogs and sausage. Another crowded tent in the food court was the one run by Hobee’s, a 35-year-old Silicon Valley restaurant chain. “They really seemed to enjoy our style of food, which wasn’t necessarily what’s offered in their hometowns,” said Hobee’s president Ed Fike, who estimates that as of Wednesday his booth had served 6,000 Senior Games customers.

While most purchased the vegetarian and Mediterranean wraps, the homemade muffins and the blueberry coffee cake, others preferred their favorite regional fare. “There were lots of delightful Southern accents,” Fike said, “politely asking us if we served ribs.” (They don’t.)

Barbara Wintroub, who lives down the California coast in Santa Monica, doesn’t lack for opportunities to eat fresh wraps. However, as a competitor in tennis at the games, she said she was disappointed that at the Athlete Village she could not engage in that most red-blooded of American sports: shopping.

“I actually was thinking about buying some stuff, and there was not much stuff to buy,” says Wintroub, 62. “I was surprised there weren’t vendors selling sports merchandise.” (Only official National Senior Games merchandise was permitted for sale at the Athlete Village.)

Wintroub did find something worthwhile when she turned the corner by the Maples Center and saw, directly across from the entrance, a massage booth. “I said, ‘I’m there!’ ” Wintroub, who returned on two consecutive days, got a 15-minute chair massage the first day and a 20-minute, full-body sports massage on the table the next. “It was very good,” said Wintroub, who owns a Pilates studio in Santa Monica. “I had a long conversation with the massage therapist about muscles and fibrous knots.”

Spitting to test endurance

Generational influences took on a different meaning at what was probably the most talked-about exhibit in the Village: 23andMe—which soon became known as the “spitting” booth.

Described by Rajiv Mahadevan, one of the company’s directors of business development, as a “hybrid high-tech, biotech company,” 23andMe, based in nearby Mountain View, came to the Senior Games to help build a database of active older adults. This would be used to study genetic and environmental influences on healthy aging (the company’s name refers to the number of pairs of chromosomes in most human cells).

As an incentive to get competitors to participate in the study, the company was offering free genetic testing. Participants were invited to spit into a plastic container. Using genetic material extracted from these samples as well as responses to an online survey about their lifestyles, participants will be sent a detailed breakdown of their genetics, including their predisposition for various conditions and diseases.

By Wednesday, more than 4,700 athletes had signed up to become part of the company’s study and get the free genetic workup—among them, several former Olympians, including 1976 gold medal swimmer John Naber and 1968 gold medal high jumper Dick Fosbury, who were at the games for various promotional appearances, as well as Senior Games president and 1960 Olympic swimmer Anne Warner Cribbs.

Last Saturday afternoon, the start of the second week of the games, there was a line of competitors waiting at the 23andMe booth, which looked like a combination medical testing lab and computer showroom. One participant in the games stood in front of one of the computer monitors, carefully reading the waiver form, presumably to better understand what was going to be done with his genetic information (the answer: after it’s sent to the donor, it is then anonymously combined with other respondents’ information to help form a database of active, fit older adults).

Others sat clutching the tubes, which fit snugly around the chin. Some were having trouble spitting. This was a common problem, especially when a sample of 2.5 milliliters—enough to fill half of the tube—was required. “Try gently rubbing your cheeks,” said one young volunteer to a woman at the booth who looked as if she were sucking on a lemon. “Yay, I did it!” she exclaimed minutes later, sounding as proud as if she’d won a Senior Games medal.

Health and fitness writer John Hanc teaches journalism at the New York Institute of Technology in Old Westbury.