Now that both children were sleeping through the night I could retreat to the basement a few nights a week to pedal or run out the stressors of parenting, snow removal, idiot governors, what have you. And while the weight gain continued, I found myself building back a base long gone from a disappointing 2010 tri season.

So what will 2011 have to offer? The Devil's Challenge tradition in September was set in stone, but beyond that we were stymied by the newfound challenge of our two now-totally-mobile toddlers. Triathlons are the types of events where there's lots to look at but very little of it interests small children. This leaves them to entertain themselves by running out into Bike traffic, throwing sand, or having a meltdown. Because races start at the ass-crack of dawn.

Not wishing the task of solo toddler management on my lobster, we decided it best for the time being to stick to relays; thankfully my good friends Ben and Liz were more than willing to comply. We excitedly agreed to relay Lake Mills first.

The night before a tri is a breeze when you're only doing the run. Lay out running outfit, watch, shoes, and number belt. Done.

That morning we pulled ourselves together, threw our diaper bag, snacks and wagon in the back, scooped up the sleeping children and took off. At the race I calmly discussed with Lydie what those people in black rubber eel outfits were doing in the middle of the Lake while Ben set up his bike and accessories and Liz climbed into her own wetsuit.



During the swim I gave a kid a piggy back ride. During the bike I took one to the porta potty. I could get used to this relay thing. When Ben came back I was standing there in T2, vibrating with energy and ready for my turn. Bend over, rip off the timing chip, reapply to my ankle, take off. My run time was the second-fastest I've ever had in a race. (I guess it helps when you don't do the first two legs.) I longed a little for the whole experience, but cherished the relaxation and calm of this event. It was a stress-free entry to the next tri season.

Shortly after Lake Mills we three were itching to do another one. We settled on Pewaukee for its proximity to home, but Liz and I switched legs (of the race, not on our bodies) this time. This meant donning my wetsuit for the first time in months. After a gain in baby weight I can't even blame on pregnancy, it didn't go well.

This race had a first. I'd heard of people getting punched in the face, dunked, elbowed, etc. during the swim, but touch wood had never experienced more severe violence than incidental invasion of personal space. Not so this time. Twice in one minute and clearly by the same person I was grabbed in the ankle, and on the third time literally pulled backward. I was pissed. I doubt he heard me as a yelled back at him to knock it off (I considered but refrained from a kick to the face to get my point across), but the rest of the swim I seethed: What is the point of grabbing someone else's ankle and pulling them back? Does he honestly think it will give him the thrust he needs to make it the last 300 yards? A-hole.

On top of it, this race is not spectator-friendly. From our parking spot to the beach to the finish line we had trouble maneuvering the wagon; spectators blocked our little one's views with an air of entitlement; we even lost touch with the other 2/3 of the relay for a while. The playground near the finish line was a welcome site, for by this time both the girls and the lobsters were tired of wheeling them around Pewaukee in the wagon looking for a place we could be.




Lydie and I did manage to see Ben's bike finish and Liz's start, and it reminded me of how much I enjoy the triathlon experience--the whole experience. I know it made sense logistically to stick to relays this year, but damn did I miss doing the whole race.

As before it was fun spending time with Ben and Liz and much easier being together with the girls. We don't think we'll do Pewaukee again. But what's next?