(This blog tells my family's story. To see more, click "blog" at the top of this webpage.)
The Paralympic Trials meet in Minneapolis created anxious uncertainty. Would Beth make the U.S. team going to Greece? If she did, could she leave Athens early to start her freshman year at Harvard? Additional stress: Beth would attend Trials as a member of the Toledo team, yet she had decided to switch to her hometown team. ...And continued to put off telling GTAC. Coaches from both teams would be at Trials. Previous times and records faded to irrelevancy. The only races that counted at Trials would take place in the three days of the meet. This fact put the few swimmers with quadriplegia at a disadvantage, since they had a higher likelihood of health issues that impacted performance. The first year Beth swam competitively, her times varied widely. Three years later, she was stronger with fewer health issues. As a result, her races usually fell into a more consistent range. I updated my list of Beth’s best times and official records. I hoped to add to my list at Trials. However, for an S3 swimmer, new American Records were no guarantee for a spot on the U.S. Paralympic team going to Greece. John, Beth, and I flew to Minneapolis with the help of a Challenged Athletes grant. Airport security glanced in our direction and waved Beth through. She put up with a cumbersome process to help her to an aisle seat in the plane. John and I climbed over her to get to the middle and window seats. At the hotel, Beth twisted nail polish bottles open with her teeth for her pre-meet ritual. Her fingernails shined in red, white, and blue, fitting choices for Trials. She didn’t care about her painted nails looking less than perfect. Beth trusted that more practice would yield better results—like so many other things. Next: A Teenager's First Trip Overseas?
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(This blog tells my family's story. To see more, click "blog" at the top of this webpage.)
I had stayed through my daughter Beth’s first high school swim team practice, in case she needed my help. She didn't. So for all the others, John or I dropped her off at the entrance of the YMCA, left, and returned later in the evening to wait for her after practice. Changing in her wheelchair on her own was time-consuming at first, even loose sweatpants over a wet swimsuit. She usually wheeled out the YMCA door into a nearly empty parking lot. Officials with the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency interrupted a high school practice for one of Beth’s random drug tests, her first outside of a national meet. Her teammates were impressed. We sent in another quarterly report for USADA with her location at all times, as she would for the next five years as a member of the U.S. Paralympics Swimming National Team. Letters arrived periodically to verify she passed the tests. I submitted the extra paperwork and doctor signatures to allow for her one prescription, advair, to keep her asthma symptoms in check. Routine tests in Toledo showed small, but steady gains in lung capacity. “It pushes her to train with us, and it pushes the other kids because it’s taught them that all things are possible,” Coach Peggy said. Peggy met Beth for an additional practice at the YMCA most weeks, so we rarely made it to the Toledo pool. I arranged my work hours at the group home to be available for swim meets. The once-a-year USA Swimming Disability Championships evolved into Can-Am Paralympic meets twice a year, one in the U.S. and one in Canada. The United States also hosted a special Trials meet every four years before the Paralympics. At a Can-Am meet in Indianapolis in November, my daughter earned two American Records in the 100 and 200 freestyle. “Three years ago, the only way I could swim was with two physical therapists holding me in the water,” Beth said. “Since then, swimming has become a significant part of my life.” I made travel plans for the April Trials meet five months ahead, though we didn't know if Beth would qualify for the 2004 Paralympics. Or if September in Athens would be an option with whatever college she would attend. What we did know: women in the S3 classification would be cut to only three events in Greece, the 50 and 100 free, and the 50 back. The reason? The small number of S3 swimmers in the world. It made no sense to me to restrict exceptional athletes who dealt with enough limits from severe disabilities. Beth moved up the International Paralympic Committee World Rankings to tenth or better in several events, including the individual medley. Many S3 swimmers struggled with long races. She pushed herself farther at every swim practice. The greater the race distance, the higher her world ranking. However, the 100 free would be the longest event for S3 swimmers at the ultimate competition held every four years—the Paralympics. “My favorite event is the freestyle,” Beth said, “but fewer people who have (severe) disabilities can do the butterfly and breaststroke, so I’m grateful I can.” The strokes she was grateful for also would not be an option at the Paralympics for S3 swimmers. The unfair cuts frustrated me, while Beth resigned herself to more restrictions and carried on. Next: a monumental change of direction! (This blog tells my family's story. To see more, click "blog" at the top of this webpage.) Summer vacation wound down. At the YMCA, Coach Peggy tackled the difficult details of the freestyle. She moved in the water with the grace of a seasoned swimmer and often joined Beth in the pool to help with technique. Learning how to swim mimicked the physical therapy process. Beth paid close attention to detailed instructions and understood the goal. Small gains and slow progress did not discourage her. She visualized the future goal and put the pieces together bit by bit. Peggy asked Beth to join the Columbian High School swim team for her senior year. I had reservations initially. I knew the team had a great coach. I wondered if Beth’s participation would be mutually beneficial or a token inclusion? A reluctant Athletic Director also needed to be convinced, especially since accessible school buses were rarely available. As a compromise, I agreed to drive with my daughter to away meets. Watching Peggy at more practices, I trusted her instincts on the merits of the high school team. “Coach Ewald was excited to work with me from the first time I met her,” Beth said, “and she’s helped me make all my strokes better.” Soon after the Alberta swim meet, Beth, 17, made the U.S. Paralympic National Swim Team, a milestone achieved much earlier than expected. We celebrated with Maria and John over frozen yogurt sundaes. Beth called Ben first with the news since he followed her progress and understood the complexities of her S3 classification. National Team status included team swimsuits and other gear, as well as stipends for training costs and specific meets. And a big stack of paperwork. Beth’s lung doctors signed a long form to allow her only asthma medication, a maintenance drug. She needed to submit training logs year round. Each practice became an official workout with a coach’s plan written in a swimming shorthand I never learned. Team status also required reports of her daily whereabouts to facilitate random drug testing through USADA, the same agency that tested Olympic athletes. In August, I dropped off Beth and her friend at a John Mayer concert in Columbus. I easily imagined them singing loudly to the invincible lyrics of No Such Thing. The girls wore hipster hats bought for the occasion. Beth donned the same canvas hat with gray stripes during the 'Fishing Without Boundaries' weekend. John and I held hands and watched our talented daughters belt out a song in harmony on the karaoke stage at the hotel. On the boat the next day, Beth caught more Lake Erie perch than her dad for the second year in a row. NEXT! Wrapping up a non-stop summer: Fifteen Notable Firsts! |
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