Archetype: the first original model of which all other similar persons, objects or concepts are merely derivative, copied, patterned or emulated.

Prototype: An original or model after which anything is copied.

These descriptors are similar when comparing dictionary definitions, but they diverge in real life. Prototypes exist. Archetypes are ideas, myths. Consider for example the archetypal primitive triathlon: bikes leaned against trees, nudism in transition, Skid Lids, numbered popsical sticks as precursors to chip timing, all winners named Scott Something or Something Scott, and a Ponzi-schemer putting the whole thing on. All these notions flow together and conspire to convince us this is how it was in triathlon’s Garden of Eden. The prototype was certainly more true and less colorful.

The typical triathlon is likewise difficult to describe with precision, and thank goodness. Our variability and regional quirks help make this an interesting sport. There is no typical triathlon.

I have a hard time with the concept of the ideal triathlon because, as one who has produced or cause to have produced a variety of ambitious races, I know the degree to which they’ve all fallen short of the ideal. It never goes entirely right in a triathlon.

But I have a picture in my head. It’s the myth of the triathlon—more precisely, of the championship triathlon. It’s been banging around in my brain so long it’s immutable, calcified. Maybe it’s the neurons harboring this idea that have calcified, fusing this idea into what I’ve privately decided is the archetype of the National Championship, the elements of which I list further below.

We are at a crossroads right now. Our federation has grown at a pace almost beyond its ability to control. The staff has doubled in the last three years, the number of applications it services has as well. USA Triathlon will sanction better than 1200 races this year. The number of those counting themselves annual members sits at 54,000, more than triple the number of 4 years ago. That number could and should reach 75,000 within two years.

All this is good news, but a few things have fallen through the cracks. One of these is our lack of attention to our flagship races, in particular our National Championship, and our World Championship qualifiers. Now that our federation has gotten past its board wars and has spun it's needle toward True North, this lack of focus will be shored up. We now have the luxury to consider what sort of flagship races we want.

Though triathlon is variable, my archetype isn’t—at least to me. The essential elements are not only the same wherever in the United States we’d hold our Nationals, these elements are the same the world over, though the food and the language and the architecture changes. What doesn’t change is the necessary set of physical and cultural requirements, and in some ways my “rules” make it harder to put on the perfect U.S. Nationals in North America than in Europe or colonial countries.

Were I to construct the model for the most successful commercial triathlon, I might choose a different set of parameters. I might domicile my race in the middle of nowhere, as in the case of Wildflower. Or I might put it smack in the middle of a major city, as is the case with the Chicago Triathlon. Perhaps there is no prototype for a National Championship triathlon. Best then to build one which, according to me, conforms to the archetype. Here it is:

1. Our swim takes place in a clean, scenic body of water, temperature usually between 60F and 72F, dependable in the season it takes place (probably August or September).
2. It should have moderate, reliable weather and climatic conditions (no possibility of hurricanes, no great likelihood of forest fires, no snow, no searing heat or oppressive humidity).
3. The bike course should be moderately hilly, but given to safety as well (no 50 mph descents).
4. The bike course will feature entirely closed roads or lanes and can comfortably host 1500 athletes.
5. The area should include a large hamlet or small city, perhaps 5,000 to 25,000, where the hotels, B&Bs and restaurants can serve 6000 athletes, sponsors, hangers-on, and spectators (probably a resort town, one which has more hotels and restaurants than would normally be expected for a town of its size).
6. The venue should be reasonably proximate to a decent sized airport. Best is within one hour from a big regional (Sacramento, Raleigh, Spokane) and two hours from a major airport (SFO, LAX, Chicago, St. Louis, Dallas)—note: Madison is the only North American Ironman that conforms to this, so this is not necessarily a deal breaker.
7. The venue should be convenient from anywhere in U.S. (not necessarily central, but convenient—Las Vegas might be easier for a Bostonian to get to than, say, Indianapolis).
8. The town should have a "village" atmosphere, small and cultural enough where athletes would continually run into each other in cafes and on the streets for 3 or 4 consecutive days—like an old mining town: Park City, Telluride, Nevada City, Angel's Camp, Dahlonega.
9. It should be that town's shoulder season, or low season. examples:
—if it's a summer resort, the race would be after Labor Day.
—if it's a college town on semesters, the race would be before Labor Day, that is, before "back to school."
10. It should not already have a big triathlon there.
11. Ideally should be no higher than 5000' above sea level.
12. No split transition, the swim and transition venue should be no more than 20 minutes drive from the town, the closer the better.

The reason this kind of triathlon is easier to produce in Europe, or in a colonial country like, say, Mexico, is because we're a bit too planned and forward-thinking in the U.S. In the Maritime Alps of France or Italy there are countless small, rural, paved laneways winding around this and over that, built before modern road building techniques that make routes best for cars and most boring for bikes. Our towns and cities—especially in the West—aren't built to group people centrally, but to disperse them privately into each person's hidden enclave. Thus, the group dynamic doesn't universally exist in America, except if you consider the mall.

None of this dissuades me. The venues for our sport's flagship courses and races are out there. Matching the myth of the archetype to the reality of its best real-life imitation ought to be our quest.