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Like Hemingway’s Paris, a triathlon finish line is a moveable feast. While the line itself remains fixed in time and space, its place in our memories, dreams and reflections can be carried in our souls forever. And as clear as it may seem, there are many ambiguities and alternate definitions for that elusive line. For the unlucky, the finish line of their day comes cruelly soon thanks to a crash, a penalty, illness or simply cold water. The time taken to get there can certainly be relative. It took Walt Stack 26 hours in 1981, just 8 hours and 4 minutes for Luc Van Lierde in 1996. But if you calculate all the time it took for the dream to grow and gestate, race day is just the tip of the iceberg for what may have been a 10-year odyssey. Thanks to the physical, mental, emotional and soul struggle required to cover the distance, emotions are deep – and often ambiguous to the casual observer. Two time champion Chrissie Wellington was crying and quite overcome after winning her 2008 title. She won it by 15 minutes, so why couldn’t she take it in stride? Almost overcome by the heat, Barb Lindquist looked out on her feet, eyes rolling back in her head like a knockout victim. Certainly not the happy winner of a $50,000 check at Life Time Fitness. Dimitry Gaag crossed the line in Montreal a World Champion, but looked like he just got shot in the leg, thanks to a hamstring pull. Hamish Carter looks like he just got KO’d by Muhammad Ali, not a 2000 Olympian. Peter Kropko didn’t get a gold watch for his end of his noble career at Kona, just his own tears revealing the depth of his love for Madame Pele’s demanding charms. Sometimes, even a 6-time Ironman champion like Bella Comerford puts in a full day’s work in the hot sun and only gets a tomato face for her troubles. But even though triathlon may bring its practitioners a sort of transcendence once the day is done, often as not the pain is overwhelming, as the gentleman from Australia can attest.



So after looking at all these images, the old Wide World of Sports motto -- The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat – seems confusing, turned on its head and upside down, like Picasso’s cubist masterpieces. Isn’t it the Agony of Victory, the Thrill of Defeat?