Cult of Tri

There comes a time in your life when the unconscious search for meaning intersects with one of those inspiring moments that are often referred to as blinding.  I think the ‘blinding’ reference is as much to do with the loss of direction and general confusion that comes with lack of sight, as it is to do with any great sense of unified purpose.

However,  one of those moments occurred in deepest darkest Brixton Village… a friend of mine (a respectable runner in her own right, but a self-confessed tri newbie) convinced me of the merits of entering for an Iron distance triathlon.

Having just watched The Master, and thus filled with the spirit of self discovery, albeit through the pursuit of endorphins rather than hooch, we discovered that there is “another way”.  A Sunday service, if you will… but at the altar of the tri-bar…. bowing down before the gods of early runs… and anointed with the spirit of open water.

This is our church.  We welcome all disciples who are prepared to leave their souls at the door, and prostrate themselves in front of the three true ways.

Swim. Bike. Run.  The Unholy Trinity.

This blog will chart my progress.