Chisago Kids' Triathlon
Alex, 8, and Lydia, 4, have been anticipating the "big sports day" and it has finally arrived: the Chisago Lake Kids' Triathlon in Chisago City, Minnesota. Peter, my husband, and I roll out of bed and begin preparing for the big day. I make the PB & J toast and encourage the kids to put on their swimming suits, running shoes and sweats.
"It's hot out. I don't want a sweatshirt! Just my swimming suit for the swimming-biking thing," Lydia insists. I explain that she's up earlier than usual and the sun has not warmed the air yet. "No, Mommy. It's hot and we're going to the beach. No sweatshirt," she says. We're on a tight schedule so I give up on the sweatshirt. Lydia agrees to put some shorts on over her suit and starts eating.
Peter is in charge of gear and loading the car. Alex notices a small snag: Because of the training wheels, Lydia's bike will not clip into the roof-top bike rack. A bit of quick rearranging in the hatch of the family Prius, and Lydia's bike is wedged into place. With bikes loaded and bags packed with helmets, goggles, water wings, towels, water bottles and food, breakfast is quickly consumed as the kids excitedly run out the door for the car.
"First one there wins!" The day's competition has begun.
"I'm cold! Where's my sweatshirt?" Lydia cries as she climbs into the car seat. I forego the "I told you so" because I don't want to lock horns with a 4-year-old this early in the morning. We drive about 45 minutes, park on a side street near Chisago City's Paradise Park, and jog to keep up with the kids as they pedal and coast to the packet pick up.
"Do we get numbers? Will they write on our arms and legs?" Alex asks.
"Do we get tattoos? I want to do the number pins myself," Lydia adds.
In the transition area, our challenge is to find each kid's spot, organize their gear and not lose them. We have 10 minutes before the transition area closes. The area is neatly gated, and numbered metal tubes stand ready to support mounted bikes. There are more than 400 kids ages 3 to 12 buzzing around. Surprisingly, it's not chaotic. In fact, the transition area is extremely well-organized. If only we could say as much for ourselves.
"You take Lydia and I'll take Alex." Parenting is a team sport. Looking at our watches, we agree to meet at the "bike out" gate when the transition area closes at 8:45 a.m., just nine minutes away. Peter and Lydia take a right down the first row looking for space No. 18, while Alex and I jog deeper into the transition area and take a left to find spot No. 253. Alex racks his bike, organizes his helmet, shoes and sunglasses.
"Let's take a trial run to see if you can find your bike when you run up from the beach," I suggest.
"Mom, I don't want to do that. I'll just look for the striped balloon at the end of this row," he replies.
I point out signs that mark the transition entrances and exits, reminding him of the patter - swim, run in, bike out, bike in, run out. Although he's gnawing his nails in between demands for a chocolate caffeine Gu packet, I'm confident he knows what to do.
We jog to our meeting spot, dodging other scurrying kids and scrambling parents. Lydia and Peter are waiting for us. Together we follow the signs directing us toward the beach.
Through the trees emerges a fabulous sight, and it becomes clear why this park is named Paradise. We find ourselves on a grassy hill looking down on a wide sandy beach and Chisago Lake, bright and sparkling with the light of the early morning sun. The beauty of this site mesmerizes me for a moment. Then my bouncing kids recapture my attention as does a voice over the loudspeaker calling for kids to get to the starting line.
Peter gets Lydia suited up with water wings and goggles, and heads to the area on the shore for 3- and 4-year-olds. Lydia runs back to me for a high-five and good luck kiss.
Meanwhile, Alex takes off toward the beach to join the 7- and 8-year-old group.
"Hey, Alex!" I yell. He returns and I ask if he's nervous or if he knows where to go.
"I'm fine, Mom! I can't wait to do it!"
"OK, you're on your own," I tell him. "Good luck!" I'm nervous for them but very excited to see how they do.
The swim course is marked by a buoy line 10 feet out and horizontal to the shore. The event starts with the oldest kids whose swim is the longest. I line up with other parents just in time to see the first kids come sprinting out of the water, across the sand and toward their bikes. I see Alex coming out of the lake, working hard to get through the sand and onto the paved path that leads to the transition area. I run to a spot where I can watch him in the transition. He easily finds his bike, throws on his T-shirt and helmet.
I hold back my urge to jump in and help him as he struggles to roll dry socks over wet feet. Sitting in the grass, fighting with his socks, I yell, "Forget the socks!" He tosses the socks, jumps into his shoes and takes off on the bike. Volunteers shout, "Walk bikes to the bike-out gate!" Alex rolls off the bike, jogs to the gate and takes off biking as soon as he crosses the line.
Yes! I am excited for him.
Back at the beach, I watch for Lydia to come out of the water. Luckily my kids are four years apart so I can see each participate. Lydia runs across the sand and begins to climb the steep hill toward the bikes. "Go Lydia!" I yell, and a beaming smile and determined eyes look my way.
Back at the bike transition, I watch for Alex to return. The kids are supposed to return their bikes to the rack where they started, but a few dump their bikes just inside the bike-in gate. Soon I notice Alex doing the same. He drops the bike and takes off sprinting after the boy in front of him.
"Go Alex!" I scream.
Around the corner, I see Lydia beginning to ride a loop in the adjacent parking lot. She rounds orange cones and powers back, carefully putting her bike and helmet away. "Come on Dad!" she yells as she starts running.
I'm off to the finish line to catch a glimpse of Alex. I notice the steep incline they have to conquer just before rounding a corner that leads to the chute. I run over to the hilltop curve to see Alex struggling, looking tired, as he runs up, up, up.
"Go Alex! You can do it!" He looks up, smiles and kicks into high gear, rounding the curve and sprinting across the finish line. I run over and give him a great big hug.
"I thought my lungs were going to explode but I kept running," Alex says. He notices kids lining up just past the finish.
"Do we get medals?" he asks. "Sweet! This is the best day of my life!"
Lydia is next. I return to my viewing spot and soon see Lydia and Peter climbing the hill. Lydia crests it and rounds the corner, the finish line in sight. Some observers cheer, "Go girl! Pass the boy in front of you!" She does.
As she crosses the finish line, she drops to the ground and demands "Water!"
After catching her breath, I ask her how she kept going and what she was thinking when she was running up the hill and toward the finish line. "The people said 'pass that boy' and I goed as fast as I could so I could win a prize."
"Great job, Lydia. You did it," I say.
It's so exciting to watch my young kids demonstrate such determination and competitive spirit. Pride ebbs and self-esteem soars when kids finish an event like this.
The Chisago Lake Kids' Triathlon is so well-organized, the location is beautiful, the water and air are warm due to the late July date. Alex and Lydia are already asking when they get to it again this summer. It's become a family tradition for the kids to participate on Saturday then hang out with Grandma Karen on Sunday while Peter and I do the adult race.
This year the Chisago Lake Triathlon falls July 25-26. For more information, go to www.midwestsportsevents.com/chisagotri.html.
"It's hot out. I don't want a sweatshirt! Just my swimming suit for the swimming-biking thing," Lydia insists. I explain that she's up earlier than usual and the sun has not warmed the air yet. "No, Mommy. It's hot and we're going to the beach. No sweatshirt," she says. We're on a tight schedule so I give up on the sweatshirt. Lydia agrees to put some shorts on over her suit and starts eating.
Peter is in charge of gear and loading the car. Alex notices a small snag: Because of the training wheels, Lydia's bike will not clip into the roof-top bike rack. A bit of quick rearranging in the hatch of the family Prius, and Lydia's bike is wedged into place. With bikes loaded and bags packed with helmets, goggles, water wings, towels, water bottles and food, breakfast is quickly consumed as the kids excitedly run out the door for the car.
"First one there wins!" The day's competition has begun.
"I'm cold! Where's my sweatshirt?" Lydia cries as she climbs into the car seat. I forego the "I told you so" because I don't want to lock horns with a 4-year-old this early in the morning. We drive about 45 minutes, park on a side street near Chisago City's Paradise Park, and jog to keep up with the kids as they pedal and coast to the packet pick up.
"Do we get numbers? Will they write on our arms and legs?" Alex asks.
"Do we get tattoos? I want to do the number pins myself," Lydia adds.
In the transition area, our challenge is to find each kid's spot, organize their gear and not lose them. We have 10 minutes before the transition area closes. The area is neatly gated, and numbered metal tubes stand ready to support mounted bikes. There are more than 400 kids ages 3 to 12 buzzing around. Surprisingly, it's not chaotic. In fact, the transition area is extremely well-organized. If only we could say as much for ourselves.
"You take Lydia and I'll take Alex." Parenting is a team sport. Looking at our watches, we agree to meet at the "bike out" gate when the transition area closes at 8:45 a.m., just nine minutes away. Peter and Lydia take a right down the first row looking for space No. 18, while Alex and I jog deeper into the transition area and take a left to find spot No. 253. Alex racks his bike, organizes his helmet, shoes and sunglasses.
"Let's take a trial run to see if you can find your bike when you run up from the beach," I suggest.
"Mom, I don't want to do that. I'll just look for the striped balloon at the end of this row," he replies.
I point out signs that mark the transition entrances and exits, reminding him of the patter - swim, run in, bike out, bike in, run out. Although he's gnawing his nails in between demands for a chocolate caffeine Gu packet, I'm confident he knows what to do.
We jog to our meeting spot, dodging other scurrying kids and scrambling parents. Lydia and Peter are waiting for us. Together we follow the signs directing us toward the beach.
Through the trees emerges a fabulous sight, and it becomes clear why this park is named Paradise. We find ourselves on a grassy hill looking down on a wide sandy beach and Chisago Lake, bright and sparkling with the light of the early morning sun. The beauty of this site mesmerizes me for a moment. Then my bouncing kids recapture my attention as does a voice over the loudspeaker calling for kids to get to the starting line.
Peter gets Lydia suited up with water wings and goggles, and heads to the area on the shore for 3- and 4-year-olds. Lydia runs back to me for a high-five and good luck kiss.
Meanwhile, Alex takes off toward the beach to join the 7- and 8-year-old group.
"Hey, Alex!" I yell. He returns and I ask if he's nervous or if he knows where to go.
"I'm fine, Mom! I can't wait to do it!"
"OK, you're on your own," I tell him. "Good luck!" I'm nervous for them but very excited to see how they do.
The swim course is marked by a buoy line 10 feet out and horizontal to the shore. The event starts with the oldest kids whose swim is the longest. I line up with other parents just in time to see the first kids come sprinting out of the water, across the sand and toward their bikes. I see Alex coming out of the lake, working hard to get through the sand and onto the paved path that leads to the transition area. I run to a spot where I can watch him in the transition. He easily finds his bike, throws on his T-shirt and helmet.
I hold back my urge to jump in and help him as he struggles to roll dry socks over wet feet. Sitting in the grass, fighting with his socks, I yell, "Forget the socks!" He tosses the socks, jumps into his shoes and takes off on the bike. Volunteers shout, "Walk bikes to the bike-out gate!" Alex rolls off the bike, jogs to the gate and takes off biking as soon as he crosses the line.
Yes! I am excited for him.
Back at the beach, I watch for Lydia to come out of the water. Luckily my kids are four years apart so I can see each participate. Lydia runs across the sand and begins to climb the steep hill toward the bikes. "Go Lydia!" I yell, and a beaming smile and determined eyes look my way.
Back at the bike transition, I watch for Alex to return. The kids are supposed to return their bikes to the rack where they started, but a few dump their bikes just inside the bike-in gate. Soon I notice Alex doing the same. He drops the bike and takes off sprinting after the boy in front of him.
"Go Alex!" I scream.
Around the corner, I see Lydia beginning to ride a loop in the adjacent parking lot. She rounds orange cones and powers back, carefully putting her bike and helmet away. "Come on Dad!" she yells as she starts running.
I'm off to the finish line to catch a glimpse of Alex. I notice the steep incline they have to conquer just before rounding a corner that leads to the chute. I run over to the hilltop curve to see Alex struggling, looking tired, as he runs up, up, up.
"Go Alex! You can do it!" He looks up, smiles and kicks into high gear, rounding the curve and sprinting across the finish line. I run over and give him a great big hug.
"I thought my lungs were going to explode but I kept running," Alex says. He notices kids lining up just past the finish.
"Do we get medals?" he asks. "Sweet! This is the best day of my life!"
Lydia is next. I return to my viewing spot and soon see Lydia and Peter climbing the hill. Lydia crests it and rounds the corner, the finish line in sight. Some observers cheer, "Go girl! Pass the boy in front of you!" She does.
As she crosses the finish line, she drops to the ground and demands "Water!"
After catching her breath, I ask her how she kept going and what she was thinking when she was running up the hill and toward the finish line. "The people said 'pass that boy' and I goed as fast as I could so I could win a prize."
"Great job, Lydia. You did it," I say.
It's so exciting to watch my young kids demonstrate such determination and competitive spirit. Pride ebbs and self-esteem soars when kids finish an event like this.
The Chisago Lake Kids' Triathlon is so well-organized, the location is beautiful, the water and air are warm due to the late July date. Alex and Lydia are already asking when they get to it again this summer. It's become a family tradition for the kids to participate on Saturday then hang out with Grandma Karen on Sunday while Peter and I do the adult race.
This year the Chisago Lake Triathlon falls July 25-26. For more information, go to www.midwestsportsevents.com/chisagotri.html.