I recently bought your book and read it straight through—incredible is too mild a word to describe it.

Even knowing a little about you and what happened before I read it, I broke down and wept and continued weeping throughout the book……..some tears of pain, others of joy.

My words could never convey the deepness and darkness of those moments for you. The clarity of the physical and heart wrenching emotional experiences, from page one to the end,  had me  there with you.  I cheered you, I urged you on, I hugged you in my heart.

In my own way I suffered with you.I felt the love of your amazing family and friends.
It was heartbreaking and heartwarming……..it made me angry and sad, ……….it left me feeling astonished and applauding your strength, tenacity and grace.

But most of all, it gave me my own “cycle of hope”. Thank you. I hope our paths cross again.

Sincerely,

Lewie Levy

Santa Barbara, Calif.

But it didn’t start out this way. At the beginning of 2010, I decided I wanted to keep my race schedule simple. Maybe some Olympic distance races and my big goal race of the year, the Duathlon World Championships. I competed at Duathlon Worlds last year and won (OK…I wasn’t really competing against anyone), but the organizers of this year’s race in Scotland, promised a good wheelie field, so I wanted to go and see how I would truly stack up. Therefore, at the end of May, I traveled to the Apple Duathlon in Sartell, Minnesota and qualified for the race. Plus, my year didn’t start off well anyway, with tendonitis in my elbow, which kept me from doing any exercise the whole month of February and a busy spring on the horizon. But there was one little thing that made me start thinking differently. The last week of March a new handcycle arrived at my door, with the help of a grant from the Challenged Athletes Foundation and the first day I took it out, I realized something…I was noticeably faster. I also re-did my seating position in my racing chair due to some blood clots that put me in the hospital in November and caused me not to be able to sit in a kneeling position any longer. That made a big difference in my pushing and I was getting faster in that too. So I decided to start entering road races just for fun and was having a great time hanging out with the other wheelers—traveling to the Salt Lake City Marathon, Bloomsday, Grand Rapids. I was doing well as I was racing myself into shape and the more I thought about it, the more I started considering that with increased speed maybe I could consider more.

I found out that the Buffalo Springs Lake Triathlon (BSLT) was going to be the site of the new 70.3 championships for the wheelies and it sounded a little bit intriguing. But, I was still hesitant to commit to doing the race that has given me the most grief of my wheelchair triathlon career, so I sat on that thought for a long time. I had a lot going on as I had eight out-of-town trips in eight weeks, not a lot of time to train and still that concern over this course that has plagued me. Finally, two weeks before the race, I officially entered, the next week I spent an afternoon on the phone looking for a hotel room and on Friday, June 25^th my friend and swim guide, Diana, and I got in her car and headed to Lubbock, Texas for the big race.

Here’s the thing though. This year was different. There is a new kid on the block and she’s FAST! Her name is Susan Katz and she did BSLT last year with a bike time that beat my 2006 time by an hour! Holy smokes, is all I could think of her when I saw her 2009 times. But, I figured, maybe I could get a lot closer to her on my new bike now that I was so much faster. Still…I was worried. I learned back when I started cycling, to NEVER underestimate a competitor. I can remember vividly the City Park criterium that I did with my regular cat IV competitors one weekend and as we were at the start line, a certain Sarah Conrad pulled up on a ragged brown Bianchi and we all looked at her like, “She’s no threat. Look at that bike.” But the entire field was schooled that day and it was a lesson we would never forget. Sarah kicked our collective ass! The other thing I have learned in my years of competition, is that over-confidence kills. I didn’t want to go into the race over-thinking my abilities. And plus, since I didn’t do the training that this race requires, I decided to work on some of the other things I could control, like my attitude, confidence and mental preparation.

Yesterday (Saturday) we did the usual pre-race stuff, but I had the added challenge of a medical issue. I woke up and felt like complete crap. I knew that in my current state I would not be able to perform as I needed, so I called my favorite nurse practicioner, Cathy Edstrom-Clark, one of my swim teammates from my 8-and-under days and she immediately called in a prescription that literally saved my race!

Then we headed to the lake to meet with our handlers (we had to have our helpers assigned to us this year, so Diana and Steve couldn’t help me at all, once the race started). I had two wonderful gentlemen, who are also local body builders (read: super buff) as my help. We had the opportunity to give them a quick training session of getting us into and out of the water and then to strip our wetsuits and help with T1 and T2. At one point after I did my short swim I told them, “why don’t you guys carry me to my chair and then we can practice getting my pants off.” As soon I as I said that, I realized how it sounded. Diana and I got a big laugh off of that one. But these guys had great senses of humor and were completely at ease from the very beginning. Chris and Sid were great!

After the practice at the lake, Diana picked Steve up at the airport, there was a race briefing, dinner and off to bed for a 3 a.m. wake-up call.

Three a.m. came early as it always does. Steve, Diana and I got up and headed out the door of our hotel and I was feeling much less than confident. I knew this was going to be a difficult race against Susan and I just wasn’t sure how it was going to go. But we blasted a bunch of motivational tunes in the car and I was starting to get ready for the challenge ahead.

Our wave went off at 6:35 and I started right next to Susan. Fortunately, even though we are competitors, I enjoy being around her…she’s super friendly and out-going and a really great person. We wished each other good luck and we were off.

Now I knew by looking at her last year’s times that I could probably get her in the swim, I’d have to hang on for dear life on the bike (and likely get passed) and then it was anybody’s guess who’d have something left in the tank for the run.

Diana guided me off on a perfect swim and for once, I did not have to sit up a single time to see how much further, adjust my goggles or stop for another other reason. In my mind, I had a chant that I went through the whole swim. The right arm coincided with “strong,” and the left arm, “so-strong.” So for 42 minutes, all I said to myself was “strong, so-strong, strong, so-strong” but it must have been the right message to my brain and body because I felt good the whole way.

When we got to the beach, Sid and Chris rushed in and got me and put me in my chair. This year though, there were new rules. We couldn’t be pushed from the swim exit to our equipment. We had to push ourselves. Ugh. That was hard because our stuff was at the back of the transition area. It seemed like a big push, even though it really wasn’t.

I knew I didn’t have a lot of time, but I had a quick transition (mostly because I only wore wetsuit pants, not a whole wetsuit) and I was off on the bike. I figured I had between 10-15 minutes before Susan got out of the water, but I wasn’t sure. As I left, I hit 18mph or more in several spots and my speed rarely went below 13. That’s really good for me, so I was thinking I was making time on Susan. But, in reality at about 1 hour 19 minutes as I was heading one way down the road I saw her pass on the other side. She was headed to the turnaround I had just passed and wasn’t far behind. My immediate thought was “oh S#$T! She’s caught me already.” But I also realized something else. I was going hard but staying right where I needed to be, paying very close attention to my power and speed. I know how important it is to do that when racing 56 miles, and I decided that no matter what, I would do what I needed to, to stay within my ability so that I could last the whole race. As it turns out, over the course of the rest of the bike, I realized that Susan was slowing down and looked to be struggling on the hills (there are a lot of out-and-backs on the course, so you pass other racers a lot). I figured she blew her whole wad trying to catch me and then blew up. Lucky for me. Had the course been flat, I might not have been so lucky. The thing is that lately, I have come to the conclusion that I’m getting pretty strong on hills. If you ever asked my bike racing friends, they would say that “Trish is not, not, not, NOT a hill-climber” but it’s never too late to change, right? It’s becoming more of my strength, so I thought I would use it today. I also felt like I took advantage of some strategy and experience to out race an athlete who is technically probably faster than me.

On the last few hills, I was cooked. So was she. I kept going. So did she. But I did go a little faster. Once I realized I was probably going to beat her, I turned my thoughts to the eight-hour time cut and Kona. Did I really want to actually commit myself to another year of training for an Ironman? I’ve already trained for five and it’s taken a lot out of me. You’ve ready about this or seen if first hand if you’ve followed me through my Ironman drama over the past five years you know that that distance has chewed me up and spit me out. It has caused more stress, disappointment and trauma in my life than is probably necessary. So after I completed the Beach 2 Battleship Iron distance race in 2008 I decided that would be the end. No more. Done. Fini. But today, I started thinking. My first goal in coming to this race was to win. My second goal was to beat eight hours, because I wasn’t able to do that in 2006. But, if I reached both of those, I would be eligible to go to Kona.

On I went.

When I got on the run I had visions of the first hill which gave me such trouble in 2006 and where, incindentally, Susan crashed in her descent last year. We asked the officials if my handler could just walk behind me, should I miss a hand placement and go careening off backwards. Sid was allowed to do that and he talked me through it the whole way. But just before I had hit that hill, I went by a runner who told me he worked with the Achilles Track Club in New York and he said I’m going to tell you what I tell my other runners, “You OWN this shit!”  So that’s what I said to myself during the run. But on that first hill, it was more like, “you…own…this…shit…ugh…you…own…this…shit.” It got me to the top and I hit the flats as hard as I could as Sid drove to the next hill. Again, he walked behind and cheered me up. At the top of that hill, you think the turnaround is right around the corner, but it’s not. I started to feel sick as I hadn’t eaten enough through the bike and only had gels on the run. I thought I was going to throw up. I slowed to 3 and 4 miles per hour. I started to see the eight hours dwindle away. Plus, I didn’t know my actual time because I did not wear a watch and when I went up the big hills at 0 miles per hour, my computer didn’t advance the time. I had no idea where I stood with the time cut. When I finally hit the turnaround I had a slight downhill and just tried to settle into a groove. Then a big downhill and then the last uphill. At this point, Sid was working me pretty hard with his hard-nosed, tough love encouragement. He was supporting me with his words to push up the hill like a bad-ass. At the top, he left me to finish the last four miles or so around the lake that seemed to last forever.

I pushed as hard as I could and was surprised when I didn’t just make the time cut, but I crushed it by 29 minutes. Seven hours, 31 minutes and 26 seconds. Almost a full hour faster than in 2006 and with far less training. It was awesome!

At the awards ceremony tonight, I was awarded a slot to the Hawaii Ironman in October! Does the new bike mean I will definitely make the time cut this time around? No, of course there are no guarantees in the Ironman, but at least this time I feel like I have a fighting chance. The training will be tough as I feel quite burned out on the long-distance training thing, but I think if Rocky can go that one more round (I mean, isn’t he up to Rocky V or X or something), then I can too.

Stay tuned, as the saga continues…

But, before I go, I have HUGE thank yous to my support crew. First of all, my Coach Neal who has helped me build such a great base over the years, Coach Kathy who helped me prepare for this race, Larry Emerson and Jen Bars (www.jenbars.com)  and Mountain Fitness Training Center for sponsoring me with personal training sessions and Bernadette Hunter who helped me get my head straightened out prior to the race.

Thanks goes to my family and friends who are a constant support in all of my athletic endeavors.

I appreciate the support of the Challenged Athletes Foundation for help in getting a new bike. And to Mike and Marti Greer for being awesome hosts to the 70.3 National Wheelchair Championships. I also appreciate having so much support from the other wheelers who were at BSLT this weekend.

Huge thanks to Jill Prichard from the Challenged Athletes Foundation who saved my life not once, but twice today.

Cathy Edstrom-Clark who helped me get my energy and health back.

Chris and Sid for being super awesome handlers, cheerleaders and overall really fun dudes.

Couldn’t have done this trip without my friend and massage therapist Diana, who pitched in, in MANY ways. She drove me to Texas in her car so I wouldn’t have to rent one, swam with me, got the knots out of my back and pretty much took care of me the whole weekend.

And, to my awesome husband Steve who put in over 15 hours of work getting my equipment fixed, tuned and up-to-speed for this race. He puts up with me and my neurosis surrounding sports and competition and everything else I do. I really couldn’t do any of this without his help and support and total buy-in.

And last, I would be remiss if I didn’t give a huge shout-out to my new friend, Johnny G, who gave me the world’s best pep talk and helped me find the 8 minutes (plus) that I never knew I had.

Thanks to all of you!!!

(By the way…if you haven’t read all my other race reports, come to my signing party for my new book Cycle of Hope: A Journey from Paralysis to Possibility at Lala’s Wine Bar and Pizzeria—7^th and Logan Street…Tuesday, June 29^th from 5:30pm-7:30pm).

In addition, on the 15th, I will also launch my new book—Cycle of Hope: A Journey from Paralysis to Possibility. It chronicles my experiences from bike racer, to injury and return to sports as a physically challenged athlete. It will be available on my website and Amazon.com, but you will have the opportunity to purchase a signed copy at the event!

Here are the details:

CAMP DISCOVERY FUNDRAISER

When: Tuesday, June 15^th—5:30 p.m. to 9:00 p.m.

Where: The Melting Pot of Littleton, 2707 W. Main Street, Littleton, CO 80120

What: A romantic evening on the patio, including a four-course fondue dinner (cheese fondue, salad, entrée and chocolate fondue), book signing and silent auction

Cost: $59/person (alcohol not included, + soft drinks, tea and coffee are included)

To Register:

Advance ticket sales only. A limited number of tickets will be available.

Ticket purchases are tax-deductible. 
All donations will be made to Camp Discovery via the 
Challenged Athletes Foundation (CAF)

Visit my CAF Race for a Reason page on the Kintera website (it will prompt you to enter a donation amount. Please enter $59 per ticket you are requesting). I will follow-up with you via email to confirm your donation.

You can also pay by check (made out to CAF)—please contact me if you would like to mail your payment

Questions: Contact—Tricia Downing, ladyterp_td@hotmail.com, 303.358.2768

When I was just out of college and struggling to find a job in my field of study (broadcast journalism), I had a friend who landed a job with the Spokesman Review Newspaper in Spokane. We happened to talk on the phone one night and she told me that I should come to Spokane to look for work with one of the local television stations. It didn’t sound like such a bad idea, since I had no job prospects in Denver, so I sent my resume to a couple of stations and ended up getting invited for an interview at one of them. I flew up to Washington State and my friend, Bonnie, and my cousin Tim (who was also living in Spokane at the time) helped me out by chauffeuring me around town and entertaining me for a couple of days. At the end of my visit, I ended up getting the offer for a position at KREM TV channel 2 as a part-time broadcast technician, for the whopping salary of $6.50/hour. I figured it was as good an offer as any, so in September of 1992, I moved to Spokane, Washington. I lived there for two years and worked for one year as a live studio tech for the nightly news doing camera, teleprompter, floor directing and character generator and another year as a promotions producer. My life revolved around life at KREM, since we worked such weird shifts:  4:30pm-6:30pm and 9:30pm-11:30pm. As a result, we ended spending most of our time with the TV crew. Plus, my roommate was a news producer and my next door neighbor was a director for the newscasts, my closest friends were co-workers and even I even dated a guy from the station. I was the newest young punk on the block and looking back on my days at KREM I was just a kid.

Although, things have changed and only one of my friends still works at the station, it was great knowing I was coming back to Spokane for the race and to see the group. On the shuttle bus from the airport to the hotel, I looked out of the window only to see a big billboard of one of the anchors I used to work with in the nightly newscasts (albeit she is now working for another station), but I immediately thought, “aaaahhhhh, home!”

I got to the hotel and had a couple of hours to relax before I met my KREM friends at one of our old haunts, Azteca restaurant. It was a great night of reminiscing about old times…and it was a BIG reminder about how I am now one of the “old folks” and not that young 22-year-old punk that I used to be.

Saturday was full of more activity race registration and visiting with another KREM friend for lunch. I also went on a course tour that is required for the first year racers—Bloomsday rookies. Even though I am not a rookie (this was my third Bloomsday) I decided to go and was glad I did. There are some real screaming downhills on the course as well as some tough uphills, and I did myself a favor to refresh my memory of the course. Plus, one of the Bloomsday veterans, Craig Blanchette was on the bus and gave some great tips and insight into the course.

When this morning finally rolled around, it was time to race. Now, as a wheelchair racer, you don’t get the full impact of what Bloomsday truly is. And, as a visitor, you really only get part of the story. Bloomsday in Spokane is really big. Huge. When I worked for KREM it was a day that you didn’t dare ask to have off. We covered the race live and everybody had to work. Everybody in town either does the race or stays as far from downtown as possible. This year there were 55,000 people registered for the event. That’s a LOT of people! The race starts on a main street through downtown called Riverside and I remember one year looking down from a highrise building and just seeing streams of people flowing through every street downtown. It truly is a sight. Many of the racers wear old clothing to the start and prior to the race they throw off sweatshirts and jackets into the trees and off on to the road and they are later picked up by race volunteers and donated locally, but the whole street looks like a five-year-old’s bedroom with clothes strewn about.

Being in the wheelchair field is a little bit different of an experience because we start first and never even see the organized chaos happening behind us. But sitting at the start line I know all those people are behind me. I did Bloomsday in 1995 (pre-accident), after having moved away from Spokane, and coming back for the weekend to spend with friends. I ran with my friend, Billy….if you could call it running. There were so many people starting and the roads narrow enough, that we couldn’t even break into a “trot” until almost mile three. Then we ran for a couple of miles and finally hit Doomsday Hill—which is every bit as intimidating as its name implies. But I’ll get back to that.

Anyway…in today’s race there were six women in the open division and 53 wheelers all together. That’s a pretty big field. The Bloomsday folks take good care of us helping us to get here with flights, hotel, race registration, food, etc. It’s a first-class operation. Sizing up the women’s field, there were two shoe-ins for first and second place. Third place was a challenge and the other three of us would duke it out for forth, fifth and sixth. There was one other gal, Sandra, who like me, was double the age of all the rest of the female field. We were the old…um, mature racers—the forty-somethings. It was fun to have someone else in my age and speed range.

As the gun we took off and actually for the first time ever, I could keep an eye on the lead racers beyond the first 10 feet of the race. I think I had my eye on the “fast girls” for almost a half mile. Doesn’t seem like much, but for me it’s an accomplishment. I have a notoriously slow start, but I think my new chair setup is helping with that. I took off and didn’t have Sandra next to me, but I knew she would be my main competition so I didn’t spend much time wondering where she was. The race starts out with about a mile of flat, but then hits a pretty wicked downhill. I’m a wimp on the descents and Sandra had said that she loved them, so I had to try my hardest not to ride the brakes. When I saw my speedometer hit 40mph I had to say over and over in my mind, don’t panic, don’t panic and then you-can-do-it, you-can-do-it. It worked. A couple of years ago I was freaked out when my speedometer hit 27mph. I was so proud of myself, but then at the bottom of the hill, Sandra pulled up right beside me. Fortunately, I learned on the course tour that this was more of a climbers course and I know that if I’m weighing climbing or descending, I’m a much better climber. So I gradually pushed ahead and tried to keep my intensity up on the hills. I passed a couple of the guys and kept going until the second screaming downhill, which really tested my courage. As I was going down I went back to my you-can-do-it mantra, until I looked down and realized I was going 42mph! Then my mantra turned to ho-ly shit, ho-ly shit. I just hung on as long as I could and then had to start feathering the brakes because I was freaking out and there was a sweeping right hand turn coming up. That’s where I hit Doomsday Hill. My speed dropped to 4mph as I climbed this grinding hill. There’s a debate about how long it is…probably ¾ mile climb, but when you get to the top it doesn’t flatten out, it just isn’t as intense. Finally you take a couple of turns and get on a truly flat road that lasts a couple of miles to the finish.

I crossed the line of the 12K race in 45 minutes 50 seconds in forth place. The winner crossed in 35:15 and Sandra behind me in 48:33. Even though I was nowhere near winning, this race is a tough one and everyone who finishes deserves a nice congratulations. So I will count the finish as a victory and move on to the next. My strategy of racing myself into shape is moving along.

More next week when I head to Grand Rapids, Michigan!

Thursday night before I left, I called my mom to tell her where I would be for the weekend and she could tell by my voice on the phone that I had a cold. “Do you ever NOT get sick right before a big race?” she asked. I have to admit she had a point. It does seem to be a trend with me that I get sick before the big events. Don’t know why. I’d sure fix it if I could!

On Friday, I traveled to Salt Lake City for my third crack at the local marathon. I actually really like that race. I find it to be a fast course with pretty scenery and a nice, close trip to Denver. I was fortunate to have the offer to stay with my friend and fellow wheeler, Muffy Davis, who is a Paralympic medalist and skier extrordinaire. She picked me up at the airport and we headed to registration to pick up our numbers. Muffy does the race in a handcycle and I do it in my racing chair so we aren’t in the same category and didn’t race directly against each other. That made our time together very relaxing in that we didn’t have to spend much time worrying about who was going to come in second, but what was also cool, is that both of us have done the race before (this was my third SLC and her fourth) and neither of us has ever placed anywhere but first. So, we were striving to keep the perfect record between the two of us. Friday night my friend Laura, who I met as a race volunteer several years ago, came and took me out for my pre-race dinner.

When I got home from dinner, I was exhausted. My cold was getting me down, I had gone through what seemed like three boxes of Kleenex that afternoon alone, and was coughing up a storm. Not an ideal day for this marathon eve. For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to take some cold medicine at 10 o’clock when I went to bed—I figured it would at least help with decongestion and maybe I’d feel better for the race. But, when I woke up six hours later at 4 a.m., all I felt was that woozy, tired, blah feeling of a cold medicine hangover. My first thoughts were to just back out of the race.

I got ready slowly and finally after an hour was prepared to head out the door. Muffy and I got to the racecourse in about 20 minutes, but then had to park. Unfortunately, where we had planned to park was blocked off by security and it took almost ten minutes to talk our way into that lot; otherwise we would have had to park much further away and we were running out of time. Our start time was 6:10 a.m. Finally, once we were allowed to park, we had to hustle to our staging area, get ready and head to the start line. The stress of having to get my chair and myself ready in less than 15 minutes, helped snap me out of my cold medicine slump. I wasn’t thinking when I packed, about the early start time and how we’d be racing for almost half of the race in the dark. I had only my dark glasses, so from the start to about the half marathon mark, I wore them on the end of my nose like my grandma used to do with her reading glasses.

The course starts on a really fast downhill with a hairpin turn at the bottom, so I’ve learned that it’s safest just to ride my brake down the hill…no sense in crashing in the first half mile. Once I got past that, my only goal was to make it to the finish. I wasn’t feeling 100%, so my only hope was to survive the race. But I was soon reminded of how fast that course is and how much I love that race and I realized I was cruising! When I got the half marathon mark I looked down at my clock and saw that I was on pace for a PR! With that motivation I started to take the race much more serious and I tried to push myself, despite how awful I felt! I remembered Muffy telling me that there were some changes to the course and that there was a hill in the last mile, so I knew I would have to keep my speed up until then, because that would slow me down. Aside from a close call with a sunken down manhole cover and a cat, things went pretty well. When I got to the final two miles I was going up a gradual grade, but keeping my speed up and I was thinking that maybe Muffy exaggerated the final hill, but finally I looked up and saw it. It wasn’t huge by any stretch, but when you see any hill in mile 25, it’s really not encouraging. My speed dropped considerably and my time was ticking away and I saw my PR come and go. Then at the end of the race, the marathon crosses over the 5K course and there is a little people dodging to do, so I knew it wasn’t going to be the day I set any records. But I did cross the line in two hours and eighteen minutes, only three minutes off my best marathon time! I was pretty happy with the finish, mostly because I actually made it, even though I felt like crap. And I was lucky…all the other female competitors raced in handcycles, so I was the first (and only) female racer in my division. Muffy won her race too, so as we left the finish line we were both in smiles, keeping our streaks alive and having had a great day! Not bad for a sick girl with only a few workouts under her belt. Now I can’t wait for the next workout/race…

I am excited to announce today that Camp Discovery is back! This program, which I began last year with the help of a generous grant from AVON, is really a dream for me. When I sustained a spinal cord injury (SCI) in 2000 and was at Craig Hospital doing my rehabilitation, I realized I was only one of two women going through rehab at the time. When I was discharged and went out into the real world and also began doing sports, I realized that there still weren’t very many women in chairs with SCIs. This made it difficult for me when I had personal questions that I needed addressed about spinal cord injury and life as a wheelchair user. Although I made do for many years, I decided it was time to figure out a way to bring other women together who had experienced the same situation.

I applied for a grant from AVON to put together an adventure camp for women in chairs and as luck would have it, my application was accepted! I put together a group of volunteers to coordinate the camp and it was a huge success. We recruited 15 women to take part in activities from tennis to golf, to handcycling and scuba. It was so much fun!

This year, thanks to the efforts of the Challenged Athletes Foundation and Craig Hospital, I am able to bring the camp together again. It is open to any woman who has experienced an injury or disorder of the spinal cord (SCI, M.S., spina bifida, etc.) and who primarily uses a wheelchair.

I found that this camp is a necessity in this population. The women who participated got so much out of being able to form a support group and to meet others in their situation.

I thank our current sponsors and hope that if you are reading this, you will consider making a donation to Camp Discovery! Please fill out the contact form on this website and I will be in touch with you promptly.

There were fifteen campers (it seems strange at the age of 49 to refer to myself as a “camper”, but I’ll try). Most had spinal cord injuries or spina bifida. As far as I know, I was the only participant with MS. Campers’ ages ranged from twenties to sixties. Trish and her committee (which included handcyclists Kim Prussia and Sherry Schulz (Sadler’s Alaska Challenge, Ride the Rockies)) did an amazing job pulling together the grants, volunteers and resources necessary to make the weekend fun, comfortable, and educational. Trish recounted her own early years in wheelchair sports, and the fact that there were so few female athletes to learn from. She hopes that the shared information and contacts provided by Camp Discovery will help budding female competitors figure things out quickly.

The weekend included both introductions to a variety of sports activities (golf, tennis, handcycling, SCUBA, weights, Pilates) and a taste of life coaching and meditation techniques. Trish also threw in some fun, pampering activities, rounding up a bunch of friends to provide massages, facials, and spa treatments to campers.

Since I’m training for my first triathlon, I was excited to have the opportunity to ask Trish about the logistics of doing triathlon, and it was fun to hear her mention that in her opening remarks: “Maybe all you want to know is how to pee during a long event-in that case, I’m happy to tell you about it.” So let’s get the peeing over with right away. The choices basically boil down to 1) indwelling catheter and leg bag; 2) intermittent catheterization; 3) somebody having your chair or crutches or whatever mobility aid you need available when you need to make a stop, and 4) peeing on yourself (“that’s what the men do”). Which one you pick depends on your disability (is this really the time to learn how to do intermittent catheterization?) and what kind of activity it is (is this a competitive event in which you cannot afford the 15-20 minutes to get to a restroom and back on the bike?). Luckily, the triathlon I’m planning is a sprint distance event, so the peeing question shouldn’t arise.

My swim coach has been telling me that I’m going to wear a wetsuit in the swim leg, and I’ve been resisting that advice (“wetsuit? in an indoor pool? for a 525 yard swim?”). But I talked to several wheelchair using swimmers at the camp, and you know what? They use wetsuits, or at least wetsuit bottoms, to keep their legs from dragging. This improves their swim times and saves energy. They talked me into it. One of the things I came away from was that you’re not necessarily going to be able to do your sport exactly the way you think you “should”; instead, you’re going to do what you’ve got to do. And if that means peeing into a bottle, learning to cath, or wearing a wetsuit even if nobody else is, that’s how it is. I also learned (or am trying to learn) to accept more help. A camp volunteer, who doesn’t live far from me, offered to be my triathlon support person, to help me get in and out of my wetsuit, fetch my chair, help with transfers, and so on. What a great offer! The staff to student ratio for the SCUBA lessons was approximately 4 to 1, and it was hard for me to accept that it took that many people to get me underwater blowing pretty bubbles and playing with toys. But it was great fun, and I’m grateful to all those people for being willing to do it (and doing it so well).

There’s a vibrant and amazing community of volunteers in this area to support adaptive athletes, and this is probably not a complete list of all the organizations I saw providing resources and help this weekend:

Craig Hospital – Craig provided the super wheelchair bus (at one point I counted 8 riders in wheelchairs), and the lift always worked. Craig therapists and nurses helped out at the handcycling session, and gave a talk on wellness and our senses.

Denver Parks and Rec – Denver Parks and Rec provided the bus on which the lift didn’t work, but that showed me how a group of determined people can work around obstacles. Campers got themselves into a variety of private cars, and all the wheelchairs and some handcycles were loaded onto the bus. Kelly and Jim also helped out handcyclists.

Adaptive Adventures – I’ve seen Mau and Mark from Adaptive Adventures roll up at a number of events and just start unloading handcycles, fitting handcycles, fixing handcycles, teaching shifting and steering. They’re always friendly, supportive and incredibly helpful.

National Sports Center for the Disabled – Also brought a truck load of handcycles and got campers fitted up and out on the road.

A-1 Scuba – The instructors and volunteers here were professional, kind and patient. They clearly love what they do, and have lots of experience assisting disabled divers.

A lot of these organizations focus primarily on the person with spinal cord injury, and if you’ve done rehab at Craig Hospital, you’ve been exposed to an incredible number of opportunities and resources for fitness and wellness. If you haven’t had a traumatic injury, and your disability has come on slowly and sneakily, you may need to be more proactive in searching out those opportunities. Don’t be put off thinking that a particular program is just for SCI, or just for vets, or just for senior citizens. Pick up the phone, or send and email, and talk to the organizer about whether it would work for you as well.

Trish hopes to make Camp Discovery an annual event. Keep an eye out for the next camp, because it’s a great opportunity to try out sports you may have been missing, learn about what’s out there, and meet other women who are trying to get and stay fit and active.

That’s exactly how Camp Discovery was born. Ever since I was discharged from Craig Hospital I have traipsed through the trials and errors, ups and downs and positives and negatives of being in a chair, but I have always felt a sort of a lonliness and a lack of female companions who could truly understand what I was going through. Sure, I have a whole list of life-long able-bodied friends, who are empathetic and understanding and unfailingly patient, but when it came to other people I knew in chairs, it was always guys. Not that this is a bad thing, but there are so many questions, logistics, and issues, involved in having a spinal cord injury and sometimes you just need someone you can really TALK to. This is something, that with the exception of one or two people, I have not found much of in my nine-year journey. And I figured that if I was having a hard time, there were bound to be other women with disabilities, specifically those in chairs, who have experienced the transition from able-bodied to disabled, who feel the same way. So, it came to my mind that starting a support group might help build a community of women who could come together and share experiences. The only thing about that is that “support group” didn’t sound empowering. I wanted a group of women who could, by sharing, begin to feel stronger, bolder and braver in their lives, not just vent to each other or create a pity party. In my mind, that meant adventure and excitement; opportunities to expand and challenge. My desires were answered when I learned about the AVON Hello Tomorrow Fund, which provides grants to individuals to contribute to their community by developing or sustaining programs for women. I applied to develop an adventure camp for women in wheelchairs to be able to improve their fitness, create support systems and learn about body image and self-esteem. Following are the words of the AVON press release, which announced my successful application.

“Tricia’s winning application to the Avon Hello Tomorrow Fund met the criteria of clearly presenting unique and achievable objectives to empower women or girls and ultimately improve society. It was selected from a pool of strong contenders by an expert panel of judges, including personal finance expert Suze Orman, actress Phylicia Rashad, Sarah Ferguson, The Duchess of York, and experts in business and grantmaking.

“This is a great way to create a community-based fellowship for wheelchair-bound women through an uplifting shared adventure/experience,” commented Sarah Ferguson on Tricia’s proposal.

Every week since April 17, 2007, the U.S. Avon Hello Tomorrow Fund has awarded $5,000 to an individual who has submitted a compelling application to help realize a program, project, or idea that empowers women and ultimately improves society. Tricia is one of thirteen weekly winners to be selected from more than 1,200 applicants from across the U.S. who applied in the current quarterly application cycle.”

Excellent! I got the grant. But this was one case of me deciding what I wanted to do first, and then figuring out how to do it later. So my initial reaction was panic! Oh my…I’ve really committed myself now. But I knew in my mind what I wanted and that this would become a labor of love.

I gathered a group of fundraisers, recreational therapists, medical personnel, fellow wheelchair athletes, a life coach and representative from the Challenged Athletes Foundation, and got started. We started meeting over lunches, dinners, and coffee making a plan. We developed a great schedule that included tennis, golf, scuba, Pilates, weights, spa time and more. We found so many people who were interested in volunteering their time and expertise to make each activity happen. All we needed were campers. At first, we thought it was going to be hard to find ten willing women, but when the applications began to flow in, we realized that ten slots wasn’t going to be nearly enough. As we raised more money we added five camper slots and prepared for October 1^st when the camp would have its kick off.

I had no idea what to expect when the campers came rolling in. They ranged in age from 20s-60s with disabilities spanning from spinal cord injuries to spina bifida to M.S. I had no idea what, if anything, they would have in common…if they would bond…if we had planned a weekend of activities they would enjoy. But in less than the first hour of our Thursday evening program, I new we had hit the nail on the head. Alissa Crowley, an organizing committee member did an icebreaker. She asked each woman to look around the room and write down ten things that EVERYONE in the room had in common. Seems hard to guess when you don’t know anyone else in the room. The list started slowly, but quickly gained momentum. “We are all women.” It began. “We all laugh and cry.” Then, “we all have dreams.” A moment of silence. “We all have boobs!” Laughter. “We’re all sitting…we have dealt with some shit in our lives…we all need friends and supporters…we’ve all had good things in our lives…we all have bad hair days…we all want to try new things…” The list went on and on. And by the end, I think we all realized what we were doing in that same room, ready to experience Camp Discovery.

The rest of the weekend was filled with an exhausting list of activities and I had the fortune of watching each woman step out of her shell, out of her comfort zone, crack a smile and let out a laugh. I can’t speak for anyone else, but it was just what I needed. To see that there were other women just like me; who have triumphs and disappointments, questions, answers and who need support from others in similar situations.

I can’t say enough about the great group of women who attended the first Camp Discovery. I hope that my camp creation helped them dream a little bigger because I know they all helped me realize a dream of my own. I didn’t realize how big an impact the weekend made until I started hearing the women talk about “next year.” Panic! I had been so busy thinking about THIS year, I never even imagined a next year. Guess I better get busy…

****

THANKS TO OUR VERY GENEROUS SPONSORS:

AVON Hello Tomorrow Fund

Challenged Athletes Foundation

The Sporting Woman Community Fund

St. Anthony Hospital

Craig Hospital

Mountain Fitness Training Center

I went to Camp Discovery on October 1-4,2009, founded by Tricia Downing.

She is a woman who had an accident ning years ago, has completed marathons and has a  definite drive to help other women with spinal cord injuries to challenge themselves to be the best they can be.

The first night was dinner and getting to know the fellow female campers as well as the many volunteers.  On Friday morning, some of the campers went to scuba, while everyone else traded off golfing and tennis.  I went to golf. There was a stationary seat that when the lever was pushed, it propped me up so that I could swing the golf club from a higher position. There was also an adaptable golf cart, when I transferred to that seat, I had an definite advantage from just golfing in my own chair.  Surprisingly, I did so well that our instructor and I had a distance competition!!

I played tennis also.  I transferred into a “sport” wheelchair that had slanted wheels. I guess I had exhausted my “hand-eye” coordination  because I didn’t do well in tennis.  I need to practice because I needed to maneuver around the court AND hold my tennis racket.

Late afternoon we went to the gym/bike shop. We did chair pilates and talked with Tricia’s personal trainer. That evening, we had a spa night, at the gym.  I was pampered to a massage, facial, and Bubble Goddess (www.bubblegoddessbathco.com) products, manicure with dinner and drinks.

Our life coach, Linda, wanted us to do “future boards,” where we were to cut out images, words, and meanings for what I would like to see in my future.
Saturday morning, some people stayed at the hotel for jewelry  making, and some people went hand cycling. We went hand cycling at Cherry Creek Reservoir.  We had many more volunteers from, NSCD (www.nscd.org), Adaptive Adventures (www.adaptiveadventures.org), along with Challenged Athletes Foundation (www.challengedathletes.org).  I went with an “able bodied” biker, on about a three mile bike ride.  Challenged Athletes Foundation has a grant process every year for people to apply to get a hand cycle.

Saturday afternoon we went ton a “psyche hike,” (www.psychehike.net)where we went on a hike to take in the sights, sounds and smells.  We stopped and had a mediation, wrote down our thoughts, worries, fears and wants. This hike in the day, was very uplifting. Saturday night, we all came together to regroup and share our thoughts on the weekend.  Sunday was just to pack, unwind and leave the hotel.

I LOVED this camp, I learned so much about myself, both physically and mentally, as a woman who has Spina Bifida. I made many friends that we will keep in touch and hopefully we will see each other next year at Camp Discovery!!

–Amber Gersch

When I started this season, I knew I didn’t have it in me to do a huge quantity of racing, so I went for quality. I wanted to compete in the Triathlon World Championships in Gold Coast, Australia, but I also knew that would be a long shot financially, so when I found out that duathlon would have a ParaTri (formerly known as AWAD-Athletes with a Disability, and more formerly known as PC-Physically Challenged) division, I jumped at the chance to qualify. My VISA card could handle a trip to the east coast better than halfway around the world. Therefore, Steve and I traveled to the Apple Du in Sartell, Minn., in May where I qualified for Duathlon Worlds. Since then my season has consisted of four time trials, a sprint triathlon and a super sprint tri. Much less than I normally do in a year.

We arrived in Charlotte, N.C. on Thursday night and were fortunate to have the offer to stay with a friend, Mike Savicki who lives just about 35 minutes from the racecourse. The great thing about staying at Mike’s house is that it is totally accessible (he’s in a chair too), it’s right on the lake (BEAUTIFUL), he has all the spare equipment I could have needed and tonight he took us out on his boat. Not only that, but his pantry is stocked better than the shelves at Safeway and he’s very “motherly” for a guy…he would not let us leave the house yesterday without raincoats, an umbrella, enough food and Gatorade…we were definitely prepared!

On to the race! The event took place at Lowe’s Motor Speedway, home to the two of the biggest races on the NASCAR circuit. And even part of the race took place on the apron of the track. Looking at the map the course was anyone’s guess as it was so confusing, but by the time we got my equipment to the transition area (which was in the infield by all the car garages) and took the Team USA picture, we didn’t have time or the means to travel the course. I had no idea what I was in for. Good and bad, looking back.

Yesterday we had a leisurely morning, which is rare in racing, but my division didn’t go off until 3:30pm, so we didn’t even leave Mike’s place until 12:30 or so. I liked not having to get up early, but I don’t think afternoon is my ultimate time for racing. As we backed out of the driveway, the sky was overcast and misting rain. It didn’t seem like such a big deal as it helped cool things down a bit, but as we approached the track, the mist had turned into a light rain. We got there as the elite men were on the bike course and seeing them go downhill through the tunnel and make tight turns, in a group, on wet, painted roads made me flinch every time. We could see a couple of racers had already gone down and once we got into the infield we saw a one guy crash just feet away from us. Things were starting to get real slippery and the age group race hadn’t even started yet.

Once that race was over, they had the elite and junior award ceremonies and then it was on to the age groupers. We all lined up at the start line with the PC athletes in front and racers from 18-years-old to 84, behind us.

Since this was the first time for a ParaTri division in the duathlon it was SMALL. Just five of us to be exact and I was the only female and the only wheelchair. There were fours Americans and one Italian. I was feeling pretty good about things. I figured that I would be able to take off on the run and get a gap on the field, then hold steady on the bike and then catch back up on the second run. Funny how I always have great plans and they almost never work out. The horn sounded and off we went.

The beginning of the run was only about 200 meters on the apron, then went into the infield, curved around like a snake through some grassy areas at the end of the track and out through the tunnel that leads you from the track to the outside world. Before I even got to the tunnel I heard my tire go “pssssssssssss” and I thought, “oh crap!” I don’t know how I already had a hole in my tire since we had checked them and filled them up earlier, but I kept pushing hoping that Steve had put some Stan’s in the tire. I headed for the tunnel and went full speed down the hill into the tunnel and as I hit the bottom, I hit a grate in the ground full force and it sounded like my disk wheels were going to crack and then the “pssssss” turned into “PSSSSSSSSSSSSS” and I was now facing a hill that went straight up. I started up forward and immediately knew that this was a backward climbing hill. In the meantime, my sunglasses were fogging up, I was breaking out in a massive downpour of sweat because of the humidity, so I threw off my favorite pink Rudy sunglasses, hoping I wasn’t saying goodbye to them forever (but knowing I would never get them back), turned around and started pulling up the hill. I finally made it and turned around only to have another hill staring me in the face. The course wrapped through the concourses of the track, to a bridge that went over the highway and came back over another bridge. As I pushed through the first lap (which was only 3.1 miles per lap), the rain started FOR REAL. Even though I had a huge supply of Klister on my chair, I kept coating my gloves and they’d grip for a while, but it was just too wet to keep them tacky for long. The hills were so steep and hundreds of runners had caught me and my gloves were so slippery, I had to go up everything backwards. That was FIVE hills per 5K lap that I had to turn around and pull up. It took me 1 hour and 11 minutes to go 10K, when I was planning for 38 minutes or less. The good news, the Stan’s sealed up the hole in my tire and though the air was low it was enough to keep me going. When I pulled up in transition, I was soaked! Steve helped me out of my chair and on to the bike. I grabbed my short-sleeved cycling raincoat, some gels and was off. The bike course was two 20K laps and I was wishing for more food. Based on my time at the Apple Du, I was going for 2:55 to three hours for this race, but it was obvious after the run, that I was way off my time. In the first 10K of the race, I went from chasing a PR to survival mode.

As I rode off to the bike course, I was surrounded with other racers, which was good for support, but bad for splash back. It was raining steadily and my front wheel, being exactly the height of my face, was throwing gallons of water and dirt directly into my eyes. Now I really wished for my Rudy’s, but they probably wouldn’t have helped. There were a couple of screaming downhills where I was going over 30 mph, but not being able to see a thing with all the water in my face and at the bottom, a sharp turn to the right. I’d go back and forth squinting one eye and then the other trying to keep at least some sort of sight on the course and hoping not to take out any cyclists.

After the first lap outside of the complex, we came back into the speedway and rode almost all the way around on the track. At one point the wind was behind my back and I was cruising. But as soon as I passed by transition and headed back out of the complex for my second lap, it began to POUR. And at this point, I was all alone on the racecourse. I was thankful for my jacket as I started to shiver and get very cold. The water was getting deep along the course and I was thinking to myself, “if I had wanted to get wet, I would have done a TRIATHLON.”

Finally I could hear a vehicle behind me and I kept waiting for them to pass, but then I realized that someone had sent a follow vehicle out for me. That was nice…maybe they could save me from drowning.

When I got back into transition to get ready for the final 5K, Steve told me to hurry up. He said the ITU officials wanted to pull me from the course (for “safety reasons” … it was getting dark and was VERY wet), but the USAT folks were sticking up for me to stay in the race. He helped me get in the chair and I told him to follow me over to the tunnel so he could be there in case of disaster. He jumped in a golf cart with Casey, a gal from USAT. As the sky got dark and all the street lights came on, they followed me through the whole course. I kept seeing racers leaving with their bikes in hand-most had already left. At that point, all I wanted was to finish.

When we pulled back into the track, they were taking down fencing and bike racks, but there was still an announcer, a finish line and a couple of straggling athletes. It felt like the two Ironman races I have finished late into the night, and it felt almost as difficult.

For a race that I was expecting to go three hours, fighting through to 4:10 was a killer both mentally and physically. The entire time, I kept telling myself that I had to finish no matter what. The last time I went to Worlds was in 2003 in New Zealand when I was pulled from the water with hypothermia and didn’t get to finish. It didn’t matter this time that I was the Lanterne Rouge or as Mike says, “DFL.” I finished and for that, I am the World Champion in my division.

As Steve and I walked to the car, the guy who had been following me on the bike, drove up, got out of the car and said, “I can’t give you a medal for your race, but I want to give you this.” He gave me a commemorative gold coin from one of the events at the track. He said, “you inspired us tonight. All the EMT and security staff enjoyed watching you and your determination. You are amazing.”

The things that made it all worthwhile, were wearing the read and blue, being cheered on by all of my USA teammates and the standing ovation I received at this morning’s award ceremony. No, it wasn’t the athletic performance of a lifetime, but I had to dig deep for this one. And maybe sometimes it’s just as well to inspire as to be fast.