RELIC

Who we are

We are professionally lazy. We're very proud of it.

Relic was founded by two endurance athletes with a very specific complaint: finishing the hard part was never the problem. It was everything that came after.

The problem, in five acts

01
Finish the thing

50K on the trails, 100K on the bike, whatever unreasonable idea seemed fun in the group chat three weeks ago. Legs: destroyed. Watch: proud. Brain: also destroyed.

02
Try to prove it happened

Open Strava. Open a photo app. Open a route-map generator you bookmarked in 2021 and forgot the login for. Open Canva. Discover that none of these apps have ever heard of each other.

03
Give up, heroically

Forty-five minutes later you have one blurry finish-line photo and the will to live has left your body a second time today. You post nothing. You go to sleep.

04
Return to civilian life

Monday. Office. You sit at your desk like a completely normal person who did not, 36 hours ago, run for eleven hours through the mountains. Nobody asks. Nobody knows. You look exactly as tired as someone who watched a lot of Netflix all weekend.

05
The medal retires immediately

It goes in a drawer, or gets nailed to a corner of a wall nobody looks at, where it will spend the rest of its natural life being mistaken for a 2014 school sports day trophy.

So we built the lazy way out

Relic exists so you never have to open Canva again.

We didn't get less lazy — we just automated the one part that was actually hard. Relic takes the route you already ran, or rode, or somehow both in the same unhinged weekend, and turns it into something with the effort built right in: the distance, the elevation, the date, the whole story — cast into a shelf-worthy trophy, or a collage you can actually post, without a single second tab open.

So next time someone finally notices and asks “wait, you did what this weekend?” — you don't explain anything. You just point at the shelf.

We are not lazy. We are efficient. There is a difference, and we put it on the business cards.

Got a story that ended in a drawer instead of a wall? Tell us about it — or better yet, cast it.