I’d like to meet the evil genius who first paired charitable causes with endurance athletic events — and sock him right in the kisser.

Or maybe just write him a check.

You can’t swing an uninsured, diabetic, heart-diseased, HIV-positive, homeless, arthritic, abandoned cat without hitting someone who has either participated in a cause run/walk/triathlon/bike ride or is training to do so.

Check out a list of about-town weekend events and you’re guaranteed to see sundry fundraisers to combat every malady or misfortune ever to befall mankind.

I’ve walked for arthritis and several kinds of cancers, run for homeless kitties and health care for the uninsured and pedaled for diabetes. And that’s just in the past year or two.

I thought of the proliferation of such events a bunch this past weekend.

Friday night/Saturday morning, I participated in Relay for Life, the American Cancer Society’s round-the-clock walk. (I filled the underappreciated — not to mention lonely — 2 a.m.-to-almost-sunrise shift.)

Sunday, I was supposed to participate in the American Diabetes Association’s Tour de Cure bike ride in Kansas City, Kan., with my father. But dad’s a bit under the weather, and when I woke up early Sunday, the weather was a bit under itself, so we bailed for the first time in more than a dozen years.

It was during my walking laps around the Free State High track Saturday morning I did most of my thinking about disease rides/runs/events.

I understand the concept.

People with trepidation about undertaking a long run or ride or walk need motivation, so they sign on for something bigger than themselves. It’s too easy to cut your long run short or to get out for a ride just as the sun is rising without some prodding. Tying an event to a noble cause can be enough: If I don’t get out the door or finish my marathon, I’m letting down not only everybody trying to find a cure for cancer, but everybody afflicted with it. Or soon to be afflicted with it. And their friends and relatives. Kinda makes hitting the snooze button tough.

The kicker is this: For the privilege of turning considerably easier “working out” into more difficult “training” in the days/weeks/months leading up to the big event and the joy of riding a bike 100 miles or swimming across a lake or walking 60 miles over three days, you get to — get this — pay! That’s right, you pay for the right to flog yourself silly.

Of course, a short, symbolic walk or daytime 5K isn’t a Herculean undertaking for everybody, but some of the fundraising efforts can be.

I have to admit, I’m kind of a “fundraising minimum” kind of guy.

If it costs 50 bucks to register and get the T-shirt, I’m in for 50. I’ve always wondered if it might just be easier to write a check for $250 for one cause rather than run/walk/ride for $50 for five causes, but my mind’s too puny to figure out a rotation that would benefit each equally over the span of five years.

A couple of years ago, my wife and I did the Susan G. Komen 3-Day For the Cure, a three-day, 60-mile walk for breast-cancer research. That was a tough $2,000 nut — for each of us. We spent more time raising funds — begging, pleading with and shaming relatives, plus garage sales, bake sales and renting our kids out for menial, manual labor — than we did training for the walk.

But among causes, that seems to be among the high end of fundraising minimums.

The prevailing pay-to-play sweet spot seems to be in the $50 to $100 range, sweat equity not included.