Twas the night before a tri Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a triathlete was stirring, not even their spouse;
The wet suits were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that TriSanta soon would be there;
The running shoes were nestled all snug in their boxes by the beds,
While visions of personal best danced in the triathletes heads;
And the tribike in the garage, and I in my swim cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out of transition there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the pool to see what was the matter.
Away to the run I flew like a flash,
Tore off my clothes and threw on my lucky cycling sash.
The sun sparkled clear and bright and I was ready to go,
All I had to do was clip in down below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a super fast man in red with the speed of eight reindeer,
With an all carbon bike, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be TriSanta; the race favorite pick.
More rapid than eagles on this coursers he came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called all of us by name;
"Now, Ben! now, Danny! now, Ryan and Dave. E!
On, Tawnee! on Zen! on, Luis and Iron P!
Through the second transition now! And right through them all!
Now away! run away! run for the finish all!"
As empty gels that before the wild hurricane fly,
We will meet at the finish, of this Holiday Tri,
He crossed the finish line first, and went straight to his work,
And filled all of the transition bags with presents; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger on the side of his gear shift,
And giving a nod, with a mighty big push his tribike did lift;
He stood up on his bike, to his team raceAthlete gave a whistle,
And away he flew like a red triathlete missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he rode out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all triathletes, and to all a good-night.
Thanks to TriSanta.com for the terrific greeting card images and to Clement Clarke Moore for the poem!