My own “Aha!” moment of recognizing the person before the disability came a couple of years ago, when I was cross-country skiing at Jackson Ski Touring Center in New Hampshire. As I was walking toward the center carrying my skis, a duo came flying past in nearby tracks. In the lead was a man, stretched out in a classic kick-and-glide stride, clearly skiing for all he was worth. Hard on his heels was a woman displaying exquisite form as she pressured him forward.
“What great skiers!,” I thought to myself as I headed in to buy my ticket—where I discovered that this pair was part of a large contingent from Ski For Light, an organization providing opportunities for skiers who are blind or have other physical disabilities. The man in the lead was a volunteer guide, the woman matching him stride for stride was blind and, I learned later, following the sound of his skis in the track (and, no doubt, his breathing as he struggled to stay ahead of her). Noting her first as a great skier and only later realizing she was blind was probably just how she wanted to be perceived. Like anyone else, she was doing what it took to get outdoors, achieve personal goals, and have fun.
NEEDS AND OPPORTUNITIES
The U.S. Census Bureau estimates that, in 2000, 49.7 million people age 5 and over in the civilian, noninstitutionalized population had at least one disability. That’s nearly 1 in 5 residents. They included 9.3 million people with loss of sight or hearing; 21.2 million with a condition limiting basic physical activities; and 12.4 million with a physical, mental, or emotional condition causing difficulty in learning, remembering, or concentrating.
More than two dozen organizations based in the Northeast, many associated with ski resorts and schools, are focused on creating opportunities for people with disabilities who want to get outdoors. Since adaptive sports equipment is often custom-made and very expensive, these groups are necessary to provide the starter opportunities that most of us take for granted. Once people with disabilities get started, they are less willing to let barriers stand in their way.
“It’s amazing how much difference adaptive technology can make,” says Dr. Susan Murray, 44, who lives in Maine and practices medicine in Newington, N.H. “I’d been a basketball player in high school and thought of myself as very athletic. I lost my leg above the knee trying to jump onto a moving train when I was 20 and invincible, and it took a while to get over the ‘poor me’ attitude. But then I discovered whitewater kayaking was possible with some adaptation.”
Murray found bicycling to be more of a challenge. She started out pedaling with both legs using her full prosthesis, but said that “glued me to the bike seat. Besides, when I got pedaling really hard and worked up a sweat, it would loosen the suction attachment and my leg would fall off.” She recently had a platform welded to her bike frame so she can remove the lower section of her prosthesis, brace that side of herself against the platform, and pedal with her other leg. She carries the prosthesis with her so she can walk when she gets off the bike.
“I love riding again,” she says. “I’m on the board of directors for the Three Notch Century 100-mile bike ride, and I’ll be riding it again this year.”
Training ride. Photo by Ken Watson Media Tell LLC
