My Ironman Story
Subaru Ironman Canada 2005
By John Crawford, age 53
The Ironman Triathlon is compromised of a 3.86km (2.4 mile) Swim, a 180.2km (112 mile) bike ride, and finally the full Marathon of 42.4 km (26.2 miles).
People are fascinated as to why anyone would want to do the Ironman. As you learn more about the people who do attempt it, the question of why becomes even greater. Even among the Ironman athletes themselves there is confusion as to why. It is generally agreed that the reasons are different for each person.
In July 2004, I completed the Ironman for the first time. I really still am not certain what drove me to attempt my first Ironman. Doing an Ironman requires a serious time commitment. In my case, I spent 482 hours in exercise workouts in the 52 weeks leading up to Ironman race in Penticton on August 28, 2005. In addition to the workout hours spent, the additional time required in rest and recovery is almost that much again. In order to do the Ironman, sacrifices have to be made in your life. It becomes the most dominant aspect of your life. The debate among Ironman athletes and their families leaves it uncertain as to whether or not it is worth it.
My former wife Debbie often explained that ¡§things happen to us for a reason,¡¨ and even though we may not want some of these things to happen to us, we are meant to learn from these experiences. Sometimes we don¡¦t find out until much later, sometimes never, what exactly we learned from these experiences. It was that kind of wisdom that helped Debbie and I get through some of our most painful experiences, the greatest of which was the accident in 1981 that left my son Adam with permanent brain damage at the age of three.
After completing that first Ironman, I had no idea why I wanted to attempt another a year later. However, using Debbie¡¦s philosophy, I believed that there were still more lessons to be learned, and that maybe later on I would find out what those pearls of wisdom would be. I had to trust that they would be worthwhile.
It¡¦s probably a miracle that I was able to do the Ironman in the first place. To my knowledge, I am the only person known to have finished the Ironman after having recovered from heart bypass surgery. My heart bypass surgery was October 1, 1997. It took me 2 years of training to build up my strength to be able to run 5km. My doctors encouraged me to exercise. I was told I should exercise about 20 minutes a day.
I first attempted a Duathlon in May 2001. I became hooked on the sport, and started to train more. My doctors told me that I could exercise all I wanted, on the strict condition that I ALWAYS stayed within my recommended heart rate range. So, I always wear a heart rate monitor while working out.
What I learned from wearing it is that I can do everything – swim, bike, run, even play hockey, but my pace has to be relatively slow, actually, really slow. When I began doing races, it was difficult to accept that I would be near the rear of the field in every race. However, I told myself that my circumstances were different, and with that, my expectations needed to be different too. I have never met anyone else doing Triathlon who has had a heart bypass. Still, it is truly a humbling experience to attend a Triathlon with 300 people or more and finish dead last. In those first 2 years, it happened to me more than once. I would still attend each awards presentation after every weekend race. After all, my fitness and health goals were being achieved, so why not enjoy the time with people?
In preparation for this year¡¦s Ironman, my training hours had a heavy focus on the bike. Most of my rides were spent on the Niagara escarpment. My favourite rides were in the Forks of the Credit area. To prepare for Ironman Canada you need a lot of time climbing hills on the bike. This year¡¦s training was very difficult because of the extreme heat and humidity that seemed to last all summer long here in Ontario.
The long runs were the most difficult. Many days, I would run to the local pool, shower with my clothes on, run to the next community centre, and repeat. This helped me keep my body temperature cool enough to continue. My coach said that this would help me cope with the hot conditions I would later face at the Ironman in Penticton B.C. in August.
One of my most important preparation races was the Half Ironman race in Peterborough in July. It was 33 degrees Celsius and about 80% humidity that day. I had mechanical problems, went out on the bike too hard, dehydrated, bonked (weakness due lack of nutrition), and finally had to quit without even beginning the run. My coach, Nigel Gray, told me it was a lesson well learned and to use that experience to make sure it didn¡¦t happen to me again in my Ironman. It made me realize my limitations.
I traveled to Penticton later in July to attempt the Ironman bike course as a trial. The trial went so well that I estimated that my Ironman finish would be at 10.56 p.m. this year. That would be a 39 minute improvement compared to my Ironman time a year before of 16 hours 35 minutes. Looking back, I know now that I was too confident. My Ironman Canada bike course trial had led me to believe that I could handle the course easily on race day. This would not be the case.
My daughter Megan and my son Adam joined me again this year on the trip to Ironman. It was exciting for us all. I had been to Penticton 6 times when I was representing Subaru as the title sponsor, so I know many people. Megan and Adam knew many more people this time too. In a way, it added more pressure to succeed. At least I had already done an Ironman, so if I did have a problem and couldn¡¦t finish, it would not have been as bad as having it happen the first time.
The Swim
When the cannon blasted to signal the start of the race, the sound system pounded out the music from the Rolling Stones classic hit ¡§Start me up¡¨. Some 2250 athletes began to move into the water. The energy was incredible. At least half of the group were doing their first Ironman swim. The chaos of a mass swim start is crazy. There¡¦s nothing like it. The first 5 minutes of the swim are spent just finding some swimming space. Once we all got into rhythm things really started moving.
Very early in the swim, I hooked up with some other swimmers who were about my speed. It seemed that I would be swimming with a swimmer on each side of me, both close enough to touch. That continued for about 10 minutes, and then the group broke up whenever someone collided with another swimmer. Then I would hook up with another group. Often I would find a swimmer to draft on, swimming behind them, each stroke close enough for my hands to brush their feet. The water was clear enough that you could easily see the position of the other athletes under water. The further we swam, the more consistent the swimmers around me became. Those who were less consistent would start falling behind. This reduced the stress of the race considerably as it progressed.
By the time I got near the half-way point of the swim, I was caught up in a good draft. Things were going really well. I came out of the water at about 89 minutes, well ahead of my target of 95 minutes. Later I learned that most athletes found their swim times to be long, so it seemed that I had had a really good swim.
The crowd at the swim exit was loud. I was among a large group coming out of the water. It felt great to be part of such a big group. The announcer, Steve King, recognized me and told the crowd that I had a ¡§great swim¡¨, so I was feeling very proud. Just a few seconds later, he announced the swim finish of Sister Madonna Buder, a now retired nun. She is 75 years old and has done the Ironman many times. She is a triathlon legend. I felt that she probably would have an angel of two with her, so I was in good company.
The change tent was mass chaos, and great fun!
The Bike
I headed out on the bike mixed in with lots of other athletes. Most of them were from younger age groups at first, though later in the day that would change. The first 8 km were in town, with lots of spectators, and I felt really great. Next we rode past Skaha Lake where the scenery is beautiful.
At about 18 km, we turned onto McLean Creek Road, which is a quiet country road. It was there that the trouble began. There were athletes everywhere, stopped at the side of the road changing flat tires. Someone, in an act of sabotage, had scattered thumb tacks on the road. I was lucky because 65% of the field had been on the road ahead of me. Most of the thumb tacks were gone. I had very little extra time versus the cutoffs, so I really needed to avoid the flats.
When I made it into the village of Okanagan Falls, the number of people stuck on the side of the road with flat tires had diminished. I was now riding with a large group. The next 40 km were mostly flat and very fast. I was able to stay with the group of younger cyclists. The race officials were calling drafting penalties. I was warned twice but was not called for a penalty. I have never really been in that situation. In our Ontario Triathlons, we have wave starts, so the bike traffic is more spread out. With 2200+ bikes on the road, there is so much traffic, it is very difficult to keep the legal distance away from the other riders.
When I made the turn at Osoyoos (60 km), drafting was to be the least of my problems. We began the 1200 foot climb to the summit at Richter Pass. It was about 11 km to summit. It would take me about 1 hour. It was hot, but there was a nice breeze. The problems for me (and many others) would begin here. I struggled with the climb. The wind quickly dried my sweat, which masked how much water I was losing. I was working hard, and I was panting. I expect that while I was panting, I was drinking less. This was a formula for dehydration problems.
The next segment was a stretch of about 35 km to reach Keremeos. It included many long rolling hills. For me, the work got very hard. I was surprised and disappointed at how difficult it had become. By this point, I was 25 minutes behind my plan, and I was not feeling great. I was no longer having fun. This was hard work. Then again, we were at the 108 km point, we had the mid-day sun, heat and wind to contend with. I reminded myself that this was the Ironman; it¡¦s not supposed to be easy. I was reminded what many young mothers told me about giving birth the second time; ¡§you suddenly remember how painful it is¡¨.
The bike course at Ironman Canada is one loop; most of the time it¡¦s like riding on a train. You only see the people near you and you have no awareness of what is going on ahead of you or behind you. However, the bike course includes an ¡§out and back¡¨. We turn off the highway onto a county road for 11 km, turn around then ride back to rejoin the highway. This segment is very revealing because you get to see many more of the other athletes. The pros and the top performing age groups can see where they are relative to their main competitors. The out and back segment begins and ends in the village of Keremeos.
As I turned onto Becks Road to begin the out and back, I was not feeling wonderful, but I still felt strong. I looked across the landscape and in the distance I could see 5 ambulances coming down from the highway. Then I saw that there were 5 more ambulances already there. I though to myself, ¡§something bad has happened, some sort of terrible car accident¡¨. What I learned as I made my way through was that athletes were dropping like flies. As I headed down the road, the wind was in my face and the heat was wearing me down. Athletes shouted to me that it would be much easier on the way back. Along the way there was a make-shift hospital set up in the apple orchard that looked like something from the MASH TV show. There were Budget Rental vans in use to take athletes and their bikes back to Penticton. I saw a man about 38 years old, perhaps 6¡¦3, and 200 pounds with an extremely muscular body being loaded into the back of an ambulance and he looked very distressed. I may have been feeling miserable, but I was a lot better off than that guy, so I felt I¡¦d better be happy with that.
As we got to the turnaround, many athletes were stopped at the special needs depot. This was a sad looking group, myself included.
The ride out of the out and back was easier with the wind at my back. The next segment was an 18 km climb to Yellow Lake. Most athletes find this section more difficult than the climb to Richter Pass. The Yellow Lake climb comes late in the ride when our strength is declining. This climb takes me more than 1 hour. This time the climb was not under sun and heat. It became cloudy and the wind blew up. This was a good thing for me; I had had more than enough sun for the day. I was working hard but my body was cool. Still, my hydration was falling behind again. I should have been drinking more. My stomach was beginning to get bloated. It was difficult to drink.
After the final climb past Yellow Lake, it was all downhill for about 27km. My speeds on the bike can get as high as 75 kph, so I needed to concentrate to avoid any errors (and falling on my face). I tried to eat and drink as much as I could, but my stomach did not like it.
Upon arriving at transition, I was greeted by Megan. She was happy to see me, but we both knew that I was about 25 minutes behind my schedule. I told her I wasn¡¦t feeling that well, and that I would not finish the race at my estimated time of 10.56 p.m.
The Run
Looking back, I spent too much time in transition. I did not realize the problems I was about to face on the run. At the run entrance, I was greeted by the Subaru people, Cathy Cole and her son Jeff, Geoff Craig, Joe and Sara Dixon, and Dave Cracknell and Lisa Bentley. Seeing as I had a good audience, I decided to play the role of ¡§funny guy¡¨. I stepped through the transition gate and said ¡§I am not running until I am feeling better¡¨. This got a laugh from the group, which helped to lift my spirits. Up until then, I had not been having fun for the last 5 hours. I wanted my Ironman to be fun at least some of the time.
So, it was time to embellish the moment. I started with hugs for everybody. This started more laughs. Then I heard Dave say with laughter in his voice, ¡§You don¡¦t have enough time to hug everybody¡¨. Dave was correct, but I knew that I was about to run a marathon, I felt like crap, it was going to take me more than 6 hours and I was going to spend a long time alone on that road. I figured I had better enjoy my friends while I could.
The run along Lakeshore Drive is beautiful. I wish I could have enjoyed it more. Last year at Ironman USA, this portion of the race was great. It seemed that everyone was full of joy and the athletes were mostly running at a good pace. However, I could see the faces of some athletes who were about to finish their marathons. Most of them were walking, and most of them looked as bad as I felt. At least they were about to finish.
Of those like me, who were just starting their marathon, almost everyone was walking. I understood why I was walking, I but I was very surprised to see that I was not the only person having this trouble. Misery loves company.
My marathon plan is a walk/run strategy. It¡¦s the way I train all year. I run until my heart rate reaches 144 then walk until it drops to below 120. In view of my history of heart disease, this is that same strategy for every race distance, even a 5k. During Triathlon runs, as the distances get longer, the portion of walking gets higher. Some of the athletes with faster bike times can walk the entire marathon and still finish the before the midnight cutoff. I have to run some of it to finish on time.
Early on in the marathon, I was surprised that every time I ran at my regular pace, I became dizzy. So dizzy that, if I didn¡¦t back off the pace, I was afraid I would fall down. This was the result of dehydration; I had gotten it so bad at the Half Ironman Peterborough that I had to quit. This time I could still run, but not very fast. At a coaching clinic a few days earlier, coach Fiona Whitby (Nigel¡¦s sister), told me that it is possible to recover from dehydration in an Ironman race because time allows. However, it¡¦s difficult and it¡¦s no fun.
I run with a digital cooking clock in my hands. The numbers and buttons are large enough for me to read and operate. Last year, at Ironman USA the system worked really well. I worked on a 13 minute mile plan. At Ironman Canada, my plan was to run 9 minute kilometers. I assumed the run course would be marked in kilometers and not miles because this was Canada. Those assumptions caused problems for me. Very early on I became frantic because my calculations indicated that my race pace was too slow to complete the marathon before the cutoff.
As I continued on the run, I began to feel worse, and I became more frantic. Even though I was feeling terrible, my run pace was actually ok. In my frantic and dizzy state, I did not realize that the mile markers were in fact mile markers and not the kilometer markers I am used to in the Ontario triathlon runs.
In my frantic and dizzy state, I had visitors. First off, my friends from Subaru came by. Cathy and son Jeff Cole, Joe and Sara Dixon and Geoff Craig. It was so nice of them to come out on the course and support me. It was embarrassing too, because I was struggling and I sure wasn¡¦t pleasant company. Geoff ran with me for a while. He had recently completed a few marathons and knew about the problems I was having. We talked about my pace. He helped to calm me down.
Later on my first triathlon coach, Steve Bentley, visited me. He was riding his bike and was on the course to support the athletes that he coached. He encouraged me to continue what I was doing. Keep moving as best you can, drink everything you can, keep taking salt tabs. He assured me that it was indeed possible to recover from dehydration if I kept up with what I doing. Steve didn¡¦t have time to stop and spend time with me, he had is own people to support, but his timing was great and it was a big help.
By now I had reached about mile 10 of 26.2. I was only about 3 miles from the turnaround at OK Falls. Steve and I did the time calculations again. It is so difficult to do math calculations in your head when you¡¦re 13 hours into a triathlon. You¡¦re dizzy from dehydration and mentally stressed out. The math was easy for Steve. The conclusion went like this: if I could make it to the turn around at OK Falls by 8.30 p.m. and then manage to run 15 minute miles for the rest of the night, I would be able to make it to the finish line by 11.45 p.m., 15 minutes before the midnight cutoff. Easier said, than done!
As Steve left me, I began to settle down. Over the last few miles, I was running at better than a 15 minute pace. I still felt terrible but I wasn¡¦t feeling as bad as before. The dehydration problem had eased up; I had started to make contributions at the porta-potty. The sun was about to set. The previous year at Ironman USA my run pace had improved after sunset. A volunteer came by on a motorcycle and handed me a glowstick. Mentally, this was a turning point for me. The guy that handed me that glowstick believed I was going to need it for the next 3.5 hours for safety in the darkness. I though to myself, I am ready for the darkest part of the Ironman. Me and my glowstick, let¡¦s go!
I arrived at the turnaround in OK Falls at 8.29 p.m., just 1 minute ahead of the new plan. It was dark now. A small group of spectators wished us well as I crossed over the timing mats. I felt good as I had crossed the timing mats and heard the beep. I knew that this information would be relayed to the finish line, and later onto the internet. Family and friends would now know that I had made it to the halfway point of the marathon and that I still had another 3 and half hours before the midnight cutoff. Still, I had a long way (13.1 miles) to go. I knew it was not going to be easy. It¡¦s not supposed to be easy, it¡¦s the Ironman. The next 3.5 hours would be when my mental toughness would be pushed to the limit. I knew my fitness was adequate. I was not feeling as ill as earlier in the run. Last year, I had a run partner for the second half of the marathon and it was a great help. This time, there were lots of other runners nearby that I could have teamed up with. From a distance, I used them to monitor my pace. However this time, I only would engage in very brief conversations. I sure wasn¡¦t in a conversational mood. Even when I passed the aid stations, I wasn¡¦t as polite as I would like to be. Usually, I laugh and joke with aid station volunteers. There was very little of that this time. It was all business. Get food and drink, get it into your body, and move on.
On one occasion, a medic was a passenger on a motorcycle. He had a clipboard in his hand. As he drove up to me, he asked, ¡§What is your name?¡¨, then ¡§How old are you?¡¨, and then finally, ¡§What day of week is it¡¨? As he drove off, I thought to myself, ¡§Good then, I got all 3 questions correct, I must be ok. I have passed their little brain test, and have been deemed coherent enough to continue¡¨. However, it does make you wonder about how bad off some the others must get.
Between 9 and 11 p.m. was a very lonely time. The road was very dark. So dark, that you could not see if your feet were near the edge of the pavement. I had learned that on some portions of that road, the rattlesnakes come out of the mountain cliffs and cross the road to drink the water in Lake Skaha. I had also heard the same about the black bears of the area. At times, I would hold my glowstick low to see if I could see the mile markers, or rattlesnakes.
I had a brief reprieve from the darkness when I was visited by my friends. This time it was Joe and Sara Dixon with Dave Cracknell and 9 time Ironman Champion Lisa Bentley. The lights on their Subaru provided a break from the darkness. They pulled alongside to chat. Lisa was standing on the front seat with her head and shoulders out of the sun roof. They were offering words of encouragement. When I began the run 5 hours earlier I had exchanged hugs, laughs and jokes with this same group. The mood was quite different now. I was somewhat ¡§in the zone¡¨. I remember thinking that I could have been nicer to them, or how good it would have been to laugh and make funny comments.
Lisa has been such a great inspiration to me, not just by her achievements, but with specific coaching on the mental side of Ironman racing. I have had numerous long conversations with her on these subjects. Lisa had helped me a great deal with my self talk and specifically my self doubt. Last year she wrote to me in an email the following ¡§You¡¦re subconscious is a Liar. It will tell you that you can¡¦t do things that you actually can do. Do not listen to your subconscious unless you have fed it positive thoughts.¡¨ I printed that quote and made into a little sign that now hangs in my hallway. Lisa has such a positive and polite demeanor. I, on the hand, am somewhat brasher. On this day, when I heard my subconscious inner voice telling negative stuff, I responded with something like ¡§How about you shut up, and keep shutin¡¦ up¡¨. Sometimes, you¡¦ve got to take a good idea and adapt it to your own style.
Lisa¡¦s visit during the second half of my marathon run was a great gift. During their visit, I was working very hard with walk and run segments. Even though I wasn¡¦t socially pleasant, I also knew that everyone in that car had done the Ironman and they all knew exactly what I was up against at that very moment.
Still standing with her head out the sun roof, Lisa called Megan with her cell phone. I heard her leave a message that said, ¡§Megan, I am out here on the run course with your father. He is working hard, and he is doing great! He said he will see you at the finish line¡¨. I though to myself, if an 9 time Ironman Champion says ¡§You are doing great¡¨ when you have completed 85% of your Ironman, then you really must be doing ok.
As they drove off, the road was dark again. I could see the city lights of Penticton off in the distance. The time between miles 15 and 23 is extremely difficult. Pain and misery. The only way for me to cope was to focus on the moment – Nigel¡¦s advice. If I was on mile 20, I would only think about mile 20. You can¡¦t be thinking about how you are going to continue for another 6 miles. You can think about mile 21 when you get there, and not until. I reminded myself of the sign I had hanging in my hotel room, ¡§Pain is temporary, and Ironman glory is forever.¡¨
Just as the city lights of Penticton seemed like they would never get close, I was out of the darkness and under the street lights of the first homes along Skaha. One of the spectators said to me, ¡§Welcome back to civilization¡¨. It is amazing how light can lift your spirits.
As I got into town, I remembered that I had agreed to call my kids to let them know what time I would be at the finish line. I decided I was not going to do that. I had to continue my 15 minute mile pace in order to finish before midnight. I got myself into a ¡§zone¡¨. It was like a mental trance. I felt that if I stopped at a phone booth I would disrupt the trance and who knows what would happen. I later learned that Adam was really frantic with worry that I would not make it to the finish line before the midnight cutoff.
The Finish
My first Ironman finish a year ago was one of the most joyful experiences of my life. There is nothing like the first time. This year, the last 7 hours of my Ironman were tough. I wasn¡¦t having as much fun as I would have liked.
As I neared the finish line, I wondered if I could muster up any enthusiasm. There were many other athletes also about to finish. In the last 30 minutes before the midnight cutoff, 65 athletes poured across the finish line. In my last 2 miles, I was not very excited about my achievement. Mostly, I just wanted this race to be over.
As I entered Lakeshore Road, the crowd was loud and exciting. I did finally start to feel like I was having fun. Last year, I had mostly walked the last mile and joked with the spectators. This time, the best I could do was smile occasionally, and I kept up my same pace.
Just before the finish line, I saw Megan waiting with Adam. They joined me and we headed towards the finish line pushing Adam in his wheelchair. Last year, I had pushed Adam over the finish line in his wheelchair. Adam has been having even more difficulty walking this year. I said to him, ¡§This time I want you to stand and walk with me over the finish line¡¨. At first he said ¡§No,¡¨ but just a few seconds later, I heard him shout over the roar of the crowd, ¡§Yes, yes, I want to…¡¨
It excited the crowd to see Adam stand up out of the wheelchair to walk. Adam¡¦s balance is poor, so I tried to stabilize him. However, my legs had become rubbery now that I had slowed down my pace. In watching the video afterwards, it was difficult to determine who was holding who up. As we crossed the finish line, we stopped and Adam raised his hat to the crowd¡¦s roar. I pulled him in for a hug, but the two of us nearly fell over we were so wobbly. Then I pulled Megan into the hug. With her included we were able to stand straight. The tears began to well up in my eyes. Within seconds my legs became so stiff I could hardly move. The staff from Subaru was busy hanging medals on the steady stream of finishers. Geoff Craig gave a medal to Adam to hang on me. Then I heard the announcer say that Sister Madonna had finished just seconds behind me again.
My good friend Cathy Cole grabbed me and walked me towards the exit. Then my coach Nigel Gray grabbed me in a hug and hung on for so long. He had the race of his life earlier today, finishing 3rd overall, but at this moment he was bursting with joy just to see me finish. As I moved through transition, I was greeted by many of the people I have come to know in Penticton. It felt great! For all those lonely hours spent out on the course, the warm welcome at the finish line made it all worthwhile.
I began this Ironman not knowing what it was that motivated me to do another. I simply trusted in the belief that there would be some valuable lessons learned. We don¡¦t always get to find out what all of those lessons learned will be.
I am writing this story less than 17 days after the race, so not all the lessons I learned have not become evident yet, but some have, and here they are.
Lessons learned.
„X Lack of self confidence can destroy your chances to succeed.
„X Too much courage leads to problems, like lack of proper attention to details.
„X During the Ironman, drink more. Eat more.
„X Listen to your coach.
„X Seek out many mentors. Technical, practical, inspirational, spiritual. Do not expect to get everything you need from one mentor.
„X Pay more respect to the mountains, heat and wind.
„X Sometimes it is easy and fun. Sometimes it¡¦s not.
„X Expect the unexpected. Like thumb tacks.
„X The Ironman should scare you!
„X To try is to succeed!
„X Fear is bad and good. Fear can protect you. It can motivate you to prepare properly.
„X When the Ironman was invented, nobody believed it was possible for anyone to do it. Now more than 10,000 people a year, of all ages, do it in North America. Sometimes, what seems completely impossible is in fact possible. Like 75 year old Sister Maddona, 70 year old Gord Brockie and me!
„X We don¡¦t always have to understand ¡§why¡¨.
„X Proper preparation does not guarantee success for difficult challenges. Success is only possible with proper preparation. Seldom will too much preparation hurt you.
„X During extremely difficult tasks, stay within the moment (thanks Nigel). Once you have done your proper preparation, you can only mange your present moment.
„X Your subconscious is a liar! Sometimes you have to tell your subconscious inner voice to ¡§shut up, and keep shutin¡¦ up.¡¨ (thanks Lisa)
„X Don¡¦t linger too long in transition; you may need the time later.
„X Trust in your training and preparation. Believe in yourself!
„X Use the energy of the people around you to help you through the rough times. Hug them when you need to.
„X The Ironman is a self inflicted supreme personal life crisis. The skills learned in doing the race and preparing for the race are the same skills you will require to face the supreme life crisis that you don¡¦t choose for yourself, or that are forced upon you.
„X Remember the lessons learned from prior difficult experiences to get you through your current challenges.
„X The achievement of doing an Ironman will provide you with a lifetime of confidence that you can face the great difficulties of life and still succeed.
„X Don¡¦t be afraid to ask for God¡¦s help.
John Crawford
September 2005
P.S. Photo¡¦s of my event can be found on the internet at;
http://www.johncrawford.ca/Ironman_Photos_2005_1.html