Where do the dreams of economically stable but unremarkable yuppies go when they die? Based on the r

Where do the dreams of economically stable but unremarkable yuppies go when they die? Based on the relatively large network of such people I have come to know and whose lives I can follow thanks to Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and (crucially) Strava, they go on triathlons. That's where those dreams go.

(people in my parent's generation seem to put it into gardening which seems like a better move, because when you finish a race you have a record on Strava. If you garden you have a garden.)