My husband and brother-in-law trained the past 14 weeks for the Kansas City Triathlon. This past weekend was when all their hard work would pay off – race day.
They worked out twice a day, swam so many laps in the pool I’m surprised they didn’t grow fins, and biked whenever the insane weather made it possible. To say they were dedicated is an understatement. Of course, I supported them by trying to hide when I ate Little Debbie snack cakes and pretend my gin and tonics were really seltzer water.
On race day weekend, we traveled with both sets of kids to the big event. My amazing mother-in-law offered to watch our youngest child, as well as my brother and sister-in-law’s youngest so the two older cousins could watch their dads compete. Together we drove the 3 hours with a 3- and 4-year-old in tow watching too many episodes of “Doc McStuffins”. (How many times can an ailment really end with “o-tosis”?)
We checked into the hotel and took the kiddos to the pool to burn some energy. However, our niece proceeded to inhale most of the pool with each swim and often gulped large amounts of chlorine water. Then, off to dinner we went.
In the car, my niece started to complain that her stomach hurt. Her face had gone completely white. I was reminded of all the gummy bears we let her eat and the excessive amount of chlorine water she drank earlier. Luckily, we made it to the restaurant. But unfortunately, she didn’t make it to the bathroom in time. In the middle of a random Italian restaurant, she vomited.
After cleaning her up, she happily said to her mother, “Mommy, let’s hurry up, I don’t want to miss dinner.”
It was like watching a first-trimester pregnant woman. She puked and was then perfectly ready to eat.
After dinner, we headed back to the hotel to rest. Of course, when your child is sleeping in the same room as you, sleep is really not the appropriate word. It’s more like closing your eyes for an extended period of time, hoping that you’ll have at least one hour to actually rest.
At 6 a.m., we woke and realized it was raining.
The guys had already left for their race.
We could have just stayed at the hotel and waited for them to finish, however, the text message I had received from my husband saying, “Uhm…I forgot my socks,” wasn’t going to make that possible. So there we were – parking the car ½ mile from the race, kids in a wagon with an umbrella over their heads, and two moms racing to get a loved one their socks. When we finally arrived at the starting line, thunder was clapping.
Would they still have a race?
We waited patiently in the rain while race officials decided our husband’s fate – as well as ours.
The coordinator eventually cancelled the Kansas City Triathlon.
All that hard work, all that training, and we were left standing in the rain in a sea of wetsuits and bicycles. My heart broke for not only our husbands, but for all the people who trained.
As we returned to the car, feeling sad and defeated, we couldn’t help but laugh when my niece said, “I’m hungry, can I have something to eat?”
The insanity of the past 24 hours became abundantly clear.
They might not have run the race, but we sure did have a weekend we will never forget.
Danielle Herzog is married and a mother to two children. Read her every Wednesday on momaha.
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