This compendium began as a runner’s diary. It was solely centered on the pursuit of distance running. If you ask me to look back and find the moment when I found Tri-Fury (my triathlon club), I can’t find it.

About 4 times per year, I begin to immerse myself in running. Not just the sport, but the culture therein. It is antithetical to triathlon.

Devoted single sport enthusiasts understand this. Lance spoke highly of “Le train bleu” when he rode for Postal. Michael Phelps understands something about a pool that I can only read of. And Zatopek and Prefontaine knew of the beauty of victory.

The oddity that lies within triathlon is the degree of ambiguity it bestows upon it’s competitors. Labels cannot be cast upon racers. It is as if one cannot devote entirely to one endeavor. Or in the case of the author, it presents a greater challenge than previously faced.

Triathlon often rewards a dividend based on financial status. A simple example will suffice:

Race Fee: $95.00
Goggles: $25.00
Swim Cap: $10.00
Wet Suit (Optional): $300
Tri-Bike: $1,000+
Helmet: $50
Sunglasses: Exponentially expensive
Running Shoes: $90
Sports Drink: $2.00

Factually, people of low and challenged demographics rarely compete in multi-sport. I reside in a city north of Boston, and I find few if any cyclists and runners out on the roads. I grew up twenty miles north of here, and one could not turn their head without hearing the whir of Zipp wheels or the laughter in Gil’s Athletic Club as they jaunted down the road.

I go out of my way to write this, because I feel this question has no answer. Running poses a similar conundrum. But I still do it. I don’t need an answer. The mere exhibition of moving through space elates me.

Running is, and continues to be, an endeavor wherein man is placed against his abilities given to him not by the value of his equipment, but by the hand of God.