I'm inclined to be disinterested in multisport.
A muted curse passes my lips each time the roading network is cordoned off for lycra commandos whom someone bestowed with right of way.
The apathy was given an energy boost last summer when a female member of this arcane sect bellowed "coming through" as she shouldered past my daughters and I from behind while we were walking on Taupo's waterfront.
I looked to see if there were other competitors - only to realise she was just training.
Thus, Taupo has emerged as the sect's spiritual homeland, with satellite parishes budding here in the Bay.
Wellness, and by extension multisport, has become the modern proxy religion. There are no doubt less wholesome ways to banish inner demons, but, like all dogma, most of us run for the hills when it presents.
Quite unlike the Fight Club, where the first rule is not to talk about Fight Club, multisporters have a boring habit of repeatedly informing everyone of how they squandered their weekends.
However, in the wider sphere of multisport there is an exceptional exception. And it's called IronMaori.
This gutsy initiative has few if none of the gaudy hallmarks of mainstream multisport.
From where I've observed (behind the wheel at another Napier cordon) IronMaori competitors appear to be running to something - not from.
There's an understated rhythm to this brand that boasts modesty and a grassroots fellowship.
Ahead of this weekend's half IronMaori, its founder, Heather Skipworth, again deserves every accolade thrown her way.
Her vision has sparked a multisport platform that prizes cultural nourishment as much as it does cardiovascular nourishment.