The Double Ironman — Racing Through Heat, Grief, and Grit
Huntsville, Alabama — 1989–1992
Some races test your legs.
Some test your lungs.
And some test the deepest corners of your heart.
Huntsville’s Double Ironman — known locally as the “90/90” for its brutal 90-degree heat and 90% humidity — was one of those races.
For Ted, it came at a time when life itself felt heavier than any distance.
Only five months earlier, Ted and Vivian had lost their 23-year-old son, Teddy II. Grief followed them everywhere. For Vivian, tears came daily. For Ted, endurance became a way to keep moving when standing still hurt too much.
So he stepped into the furnace of Alabama.
An Unlikely Team
The race was staged at Redstone Arsenal, a quiet and secure area away from city traffic. Each athlete was assigned volunteers — and Ted’s crew reflected Huntsville’s NASA roots.
One was a physicist who worked on the Hubble Telescope.
Another, a college professor.
Another, a physician.
Yet during the run, the image that stuck with everyone was the physicist jogging beside Ted, squirting him with water from a plastic bottle to keep him cool.
Even in a race of extremes, there was room for humor.
The River
The swim took place in the Tennessee River, its dark water hiding both cold and uncertainty. At the start one athlete stepped on a protruding nail in the dock. Blood poured from his foot. Many thought his race was over.
It wasn’t.
Doctors treated him, wrapped the wound, and he finished.
That spirit — stubborn, determined, unwilling to quit — filled the air that day.
Ted felt it too.
He swam. He biked. He ran.
And he finished.
Year After Year
Ted returned three more times.
The volunteers came back too. What began as race support turned into friendship — a small community formed through shared struggle under relentless sun.
Each year the heat bore down like a physical weight. Each mile demanded more than the last. But Ted kept showing up.
Because sometimes endurance isn’t about chasing a medal.
Sometimes it’s about surviving the things life puts on your shoulders.
The Year the Body Said No
In his final year, Ted wore a wetsuit for the swim — a decision that would nearly cost him everything. The Tennessee River was warmer than before. His body overheated quickly.
He began thrashing. Then retching.
Rescue crews pulled him into a boat. An IV line was started. His body shook violently as it cooled.
For the first time, Ted had to stop.
He was devastated — not because he hadn’t finished, but because his will had been stronger than his body.
Still, his record stood: finishes in 1989, 1990, and 1991 — and a final, courageous attempt in 1992.
More Than a Race
Not long after, the Double Ironman event itself ended when the government stopped allowing use of the Arsenal grounds.
But for Ted, the race had already served its purpose.
In the worst season of his life, he found something to hold onto:
Movement.
Focus.
Community.
And the reminder that even in crushing heat — emotional or physical — the human spirit can keep going.
One step.
One mile.
One breath at a time.
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