I guess the true beginning of my quest would have to be the very first Hawaii Ironman Triathlon that I watched on TV. I’m not exactly sure which year, but I feel like it was 100 years ago. More than likely, it was probably around 1982 or so. From that moment on, I was drawn to something. It was a very slow and gradual progression for me. I didn’t realize at the time that someday I would actually be doing one of these things, I just knew that I was attracted to it and felt a connection to it that few people understood. From the very beginning, the seed was planted. Over the years, my racing and bike riding began to intensify. From 5k’s to 10k’s to short distance triathlons and duathlons to 10-milers to half marathons to my first marathon in November of 1994. Then it got really ugly. I knew I absolutely needed more.
After years of marathons, short course triathlons and countless century rides, I began talking about the Ironman quest with the enthusiasm of a 7-year-old child on Christmas Eve. Fortunately, my wife took a keen and vested interest in my passion. For a couple of years I found all kinds of reasons to put it off. “I’m not swim ready yet”. Or “That race already filled up”. I would tell myself. Then someone turned me onto the Great Floridian Triathlon.
I immediately registered for the race and began a 10 month lifestyle that must have driven my loved ones nuts. I even ordered the prior year’s race video just so I could watch it over and over again. I became a student of the event, watching, reading, asking questions. I trained and I trained. I trained in the morning, I trained at lunch, I swam in the evening and I went long on the weekends. The one problem and recurring fear was the fact that I swam like a cinder block. No formal training and a very lean but muscular frame made for much anxiety in the water. Sure, I could get through the short course stuff. But 2.4 miles is a beast of a different color. But I persevered. And eventually, it began to come around. As the day drew closer my emotions shifted from panic to excitement, to fright, to confidence and everything in between. I started getting confirmation back from family members and friends that they were planning on making the pilgrimage from Philadelphia to Florida with us.
My personal posse was up to 10 people including my wife and two little iron girls. Encouraging words from friends, family members and co-workers kept me moving. The tension mounted. But it served as motivational training fuel. The more nervous I got, the harder I would train. I began to realize that barring any freak accident, injury or act of God, I was going to be at the start of my first ironman. I would stand among the masses of other iron people, sharing a common thread and even a common existence.
Everyone has his or her reasons for being there. Some more common than others, but everyone has a reason. I once read, regarding why one would want to do a race of this magnitude, that “If you have to ask why, you will never understand”. And that is so true. If you are there, you know why you are there. And if someone needs to ask you why you would want to do such a thing, don’t even waste too much time on your response. They probably won’t get it.
Years ago a friend and occasional training partner tried to explain to me the physical and mental transformation that your body goes thru in preparation for an Iron distance event. Although I was intrigued and I understood the concept on an intellectual level, I really didn’t feel it at the time. I feel it now. He described it as melting your body down to the core and reforming it much like the process a blacksmith goes through to form hot molten metal.
I can’t begin to explain to anyone the chemical, emotional, biological, physiological and mental transformation that has taken place within me. Someone else told me that the training and the process of preparing is what makes the iron person. Not the race. If you train properly, you are an ironman before you even get to the race. I understand that too. You know what the finish will mean to you. But before you are able to enjoy that feeling, a slight 140.6-mile obstacle stands in the way. I had one goal; to finish. I was pretty confident that I had trained sufficiently for that. But one never knows what physical or mechanical surprises lie ahead that could stand in my way.
Prerace:
The prerace festivities were great. I finally got a chance to put faces to many of the names that I conversed with through the race’s on-line discussion forum. I immediately felt a part of something. I felt accepted. Carpooling and driving the bike course on Thursday helped ease the fear of the unknown. Seeing the buoys in the lake on Thursday also eased my mind a little. They didn’t look too far away. Although I swear that by race day, it looked like they were extended out another half mile. I was quite nervous, but I had an underlying calmness about me. I felt an anxiousness to finally begin what I had been preparing for.
Start:
As we gathered around and waded through the shallow waters of the lake, the tension mounted. I couldn’t believe that I had come this far. I was really here, at the start of an Iron distance race. I gazed around hoping to catch a glimpse of family, but I didn’t spot anybody. And it was pretty hard to focus on anything but the water. Finally, the playing of the Star Spangled Banner, the release of the Doves and the cannon’s blast signaling the start of the race. I must admit that the beginning of the swim was a bit rough. The mass start led to a lot of contact. The initial feelings were of panic and anxiety and it was very tough to get settled into any kind of rhythm. But eventually I did. I knew my swim would be slow, but that didn’t matter. I just needed to get through it. I exited the water after lap one in around 38 minutes and was very happy with that. Slight problem as I returned to the water for lap two. I kicked a partially submerged chunk of wood that led to a broken fourth toe on my left foot. Whatever, I’ll deal with that later, I thought. I headed back into the water for lap 2. And low and behold I was free and clear and back on the beach in 1:24. Again, I was very happy with that as I ran into transition and onto phase two.
Bike:
The good thing about exiting the water in 1:24 is that you don’t have to look too hard to find your bike. I grabbed what I needed and was on my way. Believe everything that they say about the first 40 miles of the Great Floridian Triathlon being hilly. But also believe everything they say about this race being one of the most gratifying things you will ever experience. The hills were tough, but manageable. In and out of the saddle, I made my way up and down the scenic roads. As the course flattened out, the afternoon winds prevailed. I followed my plan for eating and drinking, including my electrolyte replacements.
I must have done something right because I smiled through the entire bike portion of the race. I even began to get emotional at certain points because I knew that my dream was that much closer to becoming a reality. The aid stations were great. The support was exceptional. Each turn was manned with Police. I got a chance to see my family and friends waiting for me with banners and cheers of excitement as I made it happily and safely back to transition and prepared for the final piece of my journey.
Run:
As I cruised into T2, I realized that I could walk/run/crawl an 8-hour marathon and still make the 17-hour cutoff. This translated in my head to “Let the party begin”. I ran into discussion forum buddy Mark Sciallow (a.k.a. “MonkeyBoy”) in the tent. We decided to head out and stick together for as long as we could on the run. If either of us needed to speed up or drop back, so be it. As we ran past family and friends on our way out of the park, we were both running on adrenaline and enthusiasm.
For the next five plus hours, Mark and I hung side by side. As the sun set and the race really started to spread out, we realized just how dark and lonely the iron distance could be. We discussed everything from alligators, music, families, real estate and VW Beatles (I don’t know why) to what we should eat or drink next. Sometimes we just ran or walked in silence. We got to know each other and greatly appreciated each other’s company and support. We reflected on the support crew that had gotten us that far. Sometimes we tried to do the math and figure out pace charts in our heads, but we knew times mattered very little. I can’t say enough positive things about the aid stations and support. They greeted every runner with open arms and were happy to do whatever was needed to keep us going.
At some point that broken toe from my swim started to really bother me, but that didn’t matter either. I was going to be an IRONMAN. I’ll take one broken toe. I have at least 7 or 8 other toes that are fine and functional. With each passing loop of the lake we would come back to our waiting families and friends as they continued to fuel our motivation. Encouraging words greeted us with each pass. The encouragement scripted in chalk on the pathway from fellow athletes and family was awesome. At one point I went for some water at an aid station and heard the words “Yeah DAD”. As I looked up I realized that I was taking water from my 12-year old daughter who was volunteering.
Finish:
Then it was our turn to make that right hand turn and head into downtown Clermont. As we did, the noise picked up. We could hear the cheers and race announcer Brad Rex’s voice echoing through the streets. What a feeling. We were home. Time meant nothing. What mattered was that we were home. Mark and I gapped for the first time since we started the run, so we could each enjoy our own personal moment of glory. As I picked up the sight of the finish line, I saw my two daughters standing at either side of the shoot. Once they saw me, they ran to my side and each grabbed a hand. 15:20 after I started, I crossed the finish line with my kids and realized my dream. The next few hours were a blur. My daughter placed my medal around my neck. I found my wife and friends and we all shared in the victory. I thought that this was something that I needed to do once and get out of my system. I was wrong.
The Todd Crandell Story
Twelve years ago if you told Todd Crandell that someday he would indeed clean up his act and get straight and sober, you probably would have unknowingly invoked a fight. Twelve years ago, if you told Todd Crandell that he would one day hold the keys to change not only his life, but the lives of many others as well, he probably would have laughed as he slammed down another fifth of Jack to chase down a fistful of unidentified pills. Twelve years ago, Todd Crandell was on a complete crash course to nowhere.
His diet consisted of a steady stream of any substance that he could get his hands on. His condition became so bad that if he vomited up anything that wasn’t completed dissolved; he’d sift through his own vomit and re-ingest it.
The Todd Crandell story is an amazing one. Unfortunately, it starts out not that uncommon. Many too many kids have fallen victim to the same temptations that almost ruined Todd’s life. What is uncommon is how he was able to fall to the deepest depths of humanity, only to claw his way back to rise above, realizing a new potential that he never thought possible. Todd made it across to the other side of his journey through hell.
Todd compromised his education, his relationships, a promising career in hockey, and his existence though his reckless lifestyle and severe substance abuse. He cared about nothing except getting wasted. He often woke up in amazement and disappointment that he survived the previous night’s binge only to start it all over again. Drug induced, intoxicated, angry, and broke. Todd wanted to self-destruct.
After nearly destroying himself and everything that was once important to him, Todd had a moment of clarity on April 15th, 1993. On that date, Todd finished his last beer, slammed the empty on the table, and proclaimed, “That’s it. I’m done, I don’t need this anymore”. Although the road back was a difficult one, it’s a path that he has never strayed from.
Any drunk will tell you that their date of sobriety is a date that they will never forget and will celebrate annually – forever. Todd and his wife have another reason to celebrate April 15th. A few years later, on April 15th, the Crandell’s were also blessed with the birth of their daughter.
Todd decided to use his God given athletic ability in a way that could make a difference. He turned his passions, and yes, addictions to the world of multisport racing. Todd discovered the Ironman triathlon and from there a vision was born: a vision to selflessly help others avoid the choices that he made growing up.
Todd founded Racing For Recovery; a non-profit agency dedicated to spreading his story in hopes of preventing substance abuse in adolescents. Todd organizes visits with schools around the country to talk about his life and hopes that by doing so; he can prevent other kids from making the same mistakes he made. Racing For Recovery also puts on 5K races to raise awareness, which Crandell hopes to expand across the nation and beyond.
Todd is lucky. Today, he is able to enjoy a happy and healthy home with his wife and children. Since becoming clean, he has regained control of his life, which he now treasures. He received his college degree, holds down a good job, and is thankful for the ability to spread his word and help others. Todd not only turned his life around, but he is on a mission to try and enlighten countless kids out there in the world. Todd is using his Ironman triathlon racing and his story to make a difference.
Visit www.racingforrecovery.com to learn more about Todd, and his non-profit organization. Todd’s story is also now available on DVD through the website. He is available for speaking engagements and can be reached directly at Racing4Recovery@aol.com