THIS STARTED AS A JOKE.
It stayed because the sport matters.
HI, I’M IVAN.
I’ve never been the greatest athlete.
I have, however, always been pretty stubborn.
I swam in college, and what I loved most wasn’t just swimming. It was the people. The practices, the friendships, and having something hard to work toward together.
Then college ended, life got busy, and working out slowly became something I used to do.
Years later, my father-in-law — an avid cyclist — convinced me to finally buy a road bike. I’d wanted one for years. Some of my favorite memories growing up in Serbia were riding my bike along the Sava River, so getting back on two wheels felt surprisingly familiar.
I started riding with his cycling groups.
Unfortunately, some of them were triathletes.
They convinced me to try a sprint triathlon.
It was horrible. I loved it.
WE DON’T TALK ABOUT RUNNING.
Swimming made sense to me.
Cycling became something I loved.
Running?
Running and I remain in negotiations.
It is by far my weakest discipline and usually my least favorite part of race day. There is almost always a point when every part of my brain starts presenting very reasonable arguments for why we could simply stop doing this.
And yet I keep running.
Not particularly gracefully. Not particularly quickly.
But stubbornly.
Maybe that’s part of why triathlon works so well for me. There’s always something different to do. When my ADHD brain gets tired of one thing, there are two other sports waiting to create entirely new problems.
Somehow that first sprint became longer races.
And eventually, a full Ironman.
I complained all the way there.
I loved it anyway.
THAT’S STUPID SPORT.
Stupid Sport is the name I started giving this ridiculous relationship.
It’s what triathlon feels like when you’re tired, hungry, undertrained, overtrained, spending too much money on something you voluntarily chose to do, or halfway through a race wondering who exactly approved this decision.
But underneath all the complaining is something real.
This sport gets me outside.
It keeps me moving.
It gives me goals that scare me a little.
It gives me people to train with, places to go, finish lines to chase, and reasons to discover what I’m capable of.
And apparently, once I finish complaining, it makes me want to sign up again.
AND IT’S NOT JUST ABOUT THE ATHLETE.
Triathlon has a whole group of people doing a fourth discipline nobody puts on the medal.
The partners, friends, family, training buddies, spectators, and support crews.
The people waking up at absurd hours. Carrying snacks. Holding signs. Tracking dots around race courses. Listening to us talk about workouts. Waiting at finish lines.
Stupid Sport is for them too.
Because whether you’re the person making the questionable decision or the person who loves someone making it, you’re part of this weird little world.
That’s what I wanted Stupid Sport to celebrate:
The effort.
The friendships.
The ridiculousness.
The stubbornness.
And the fact that something can be incredibly hard, occasionally miserable, and still be something you genuinely love.