Few Medals Given in Parent Marathon

We have a friend who is building himself up to compete in the Ironman triathlon. This event consists of running a long way, riding a bike and even longer way, and then swimming a couple miles in the ocean.
He had tried to convince John and me that this is something we should do. I expressed doubt at my ability to do this. I know I don't have the desire to do it, but my friend insists I would like it if I were to start training.
Lucky for me I won't have to consider it, because John and I have already done the Ironman. We just returned from taking our eight children on a Colorado ski trip.
I'd be surprised if a triathlon required more mental endurance and physical stamina that our trip. We had a great time, at least that is what I kept telling myself while I was there, and it was an adventure, at least that's how I've described the trip since we returned home.
The buildup for this trip lasted seven years.
Each year since late 19080 we have traveled to Colorado for a ski trip with our friends from Denver, Kam and Mike Martin and their children. The first year, John and our oldest two children went.
I stayed home because Johnny was a baby. The next year I went along because it was what the Martins started calling a nonpregnant year.
The next year I didn't go. John took the oldest two children, plus Maureen, right after Mike's birth.
We have pretty much followed this pattern. Each year that we added a skier to the party- they had to be at least kindergarten age - we also would add a baby to the family. This was the year to add Johnny and also the year of Matthew's arrival.
I suggested that I stay home with the three little guys, but the Martins and John thought otherwise. They said "It won't be any fun without you." I could understand that logic since I am so much fun. So we all went.
The three parts of our Ironman- or Ironwoman- included the trip out (we drove), the time spent at the mountain and the trip back. It rained and snowed all the way and I left my purse with John's wallet inside it in a Bonanza restaurant in York, NE.
"You know this sport has to be a lot of fun to make us go to this much trouble to get organized," Mike Martin said to John as they equipped the young skiers.
Several times during the trip we discussed what we should do, or what we should have done. Most of our "should" conversations revolved around money.
Since the cost of skiing can escalate in a hurry, I was interested in deals and coupons. I made John stop at a Vickers gas station in Denver to buy a coupon book with discounts for ski school and lift tickets. We only bought one book. We should have bought several. We also should have purchased our under-12 lift tickets there because they were cheaper than at the resort. Next year we will!
Getting everyone dressed in long underwear, ski socks, turtleneck sweaters, ski jackets and pants, hats, mitten liners and mittens, finding the sunglasses or goggles, putting on the sunblock, putting on the ski boots and then hauling the little ones who can't walk in the ski boots, and carrying their skis and poles plus our own to the chairlift lines is the ultimate test of inner, outer and any other kind of strength you can think of.
I didn't ski much because I didn't want to leave the little ones, Pete and Matt, in a nursery. What if they cried? John finally convinced me that I should and Pete did cry- but he got over it. He says now he loved the Belly Button Bakery, the resort's day-care center, but he doesn't want to go back because they make you take a nap.
Mike and Johnny went to ski school. Johnny did great and Mike said he liked skiing except he couldn't stop.
Patrick, Colleen, Maureen, Machaela, and the Martin kids won medals in NASTAR, a timed downhill ski race.
John and I didn't enter. We're holding out for that big medal you get in the sky. After this trip we surely qualify.
April 8, 1987