I came across this article in the New York Times about how someone spent $100,000 during a brief season training for the Hawaii Ironman, which he entered as a result of business connections.
The thing that caught my eye in this story was the statement from WTC about the *average* annual household income for IM participants. That’s what got me thinking about the connection between financial resources and the ability to maximize one’s potential in that race.
It also got me reflecting on something I told myself 20 years ago when I made a career shift. I was 47 y/o, and thinking about how I wanted to spend the rest of my working years. I concluded that where I was, which was quite rewarding, was getting to be more and more about the $ and the ego strokes, and not the value of my work per se to myself or to others, and that didn’t feel right. Same thing has been happening to me, in a slightly different way, with Ironman in the past few years. I began thinking about how to buy speed (get a new bike, spend 3-4 weeks in Hawaii in advance of the race, etc.) and how my performances would appear to others, rather than the simple fun of just training and racing. So now I and trying to re-focus more on building and having fun with my fitness, rather than just keep collecting (?buying) trophies.
PEDs are bad for two main reasons: they cheat others out of the value of their (“clean”) work and they are dangerous to one’s health. I see spending maximum $ on racing IM in that light. I think the insane amount of money in our sport is soul-sapping in some ways.
Having said all this, I recognize that the two sports I’m keenest on – downhill skiing, and Ironman triathlon – are geared primarily for rich white guys and their entourages. In both arenas, I have always found myself drawn more towards the young ski bums (and their IM analogs), the OFs who have been doing it for decades, replete with duct-tapped clothing and well-used equipment, and the women who have the courage to mix it up in that world.
I also feel there is a hierarchy at Kona. I get to say I was in the same race with the best in the world – the pros – but I’m not one of them. The lottery and sponsor attendees get to say they raced at Kona – but they don’t get to say they qualified. It’s a special feeling to simply be there – witness the 1000’s every year who come as “pilgrims”, not in the race at all, just want to be on the same roads with those who are. I’m happy to share that feeling with any and everyone in the triathlon world.
Still, the two things I am proudest of (in order) in my triathlon career are (1) qualified 9 separate times for Kona (sometimes twice in one year) and (2) the age group wins I have in IM races. These are the things I earned by [funny – auto-spell wrote that as “buy” 
] the sweat of my brow. I don’t think those accomplishments are demeaned by others racing at Kona who arrived without qualifying. $ can’t buy persistence, discipline, consistency, and obsessive attention to detail, which is what I think got you and me there multiple times. Along with a little luck in body type.