BREAK TIME

I've been taking it a little easier with my handcycle practice routines because I realize that I have been neglecting Judy and Hope. The other day, Hope fell down our staircase while I was out working on my racing times. She is fine, but I felt really bad, because I barely watch after her anymore. I realize that I've been trying to overcome my inability to walk through my wheelchair racing. It's as if I can see myself being accepted as normal by the people around me if I excel in some sports activity. What I overlook is that they already accept me and my paralysis - I'm the one who need to accept myself.

Hope is now getting ready for school, and I expect her to need guidance and encouragement while she prepares to go through the school system. With all the knowledge I've attained in my life, this may be the greatest race I will ever be a part of. I have already begun sitting down with Hope at night and reading to her (something I hadn't done since she was a baby). I can see that she really appreciates my time with her. She points at the pictures in the books I read to her, and I tell her the name of the object she's pointing to. She then repeats the word until she gets it right. This happens every time we open one of her children's books. I can tell that she is very excited about growing up. I don't want to miss her childhood years by obsessing over my inability to walk. Hope can walk just fine, and she will walk for me where my footsteps ended.

The greatest victory of my life may not be in finishing Sadler’s Alaska Challenge, but in seeing my baby girl achieve her life's dream. Even at her young age, she insists that she wants to be a nurse. I cannot think of a better contribution to my world than helping her win that race.