Going downhill fast--on two skis or one.

Ellie forerunning the Super G at the Tri Divisional Championships at Snowbird.

I've been spending a lot of time at ski races this winter, even though I'm not skiing anymore. I'm the racer chaser for granddaughter Ellie, who competes for the Snowbird Race Team in the USSA U-14 division for young ladies under 14. She's barely 12, so she's in with some tough competition.  This year is a learning year, but next year she'll have the experience, size and strength to be a podium threat.  She's a tough, determined competitor.

                

                 Erika and Ellie in Jackson

Racer Chaser Bob with Ellie in Park City.

This year we've been to Park City, Snowbird, Snowbasin and Jackson Hole for three and four day events. This is intense competition, with more than 100 girls and 100 boys vying for the podium as they chase Olympic dreams in Slalom, Giant Slalom and Super G. These kids are expert skiers, running hundreds of gates over the season. They're on the mountain at 6:30 a.m. training two or more days a week and every day over the Christmas break.  It's not for the faint of heart or unmotivated.

The slalom course at Snowbasin.  The gates are barely visible.

They ski long, steep courses in a variety of winter weather conditions--sun, fog, snow, wind, rain...whatever Mother Nature chooses to deliver. There are thrills, smiles, crashes, tears...all the highs and lows that competitive sports can serve up.  But they keep coming back for more.

Paralympic skier Anna Beninati shredding a slalom course. 

There's another side to ski racing that I'm also tuned into in a big way: ski racing for the physically challenged.  I'm on the marketing committee at The National Ability Center in Park City, a key training ground for Paralympic athletes like Anna Beninati. The Paralympics are for physically challenged athletes and are held right after the Olympics at the same venue.

Anna captivated the students at Heartland Elementary

I recently arranged for Anna to speak to students at my wife's school, to inspire them to do their best on upcoming SAGE tests. Anna is a remarkable young woman who is a double amputee from a train accident that severed both of her legs in 2011.  She's training for the 2018 Paralympics in Korea, using a high tech mono-ski. She trains with the National Ability Center Ski Team in Park City, but also teaches mono-skiing at Snowbird.

Anna balance training at the National Ability Center.

Anna is a dedicated, hard-working athlete who has had to overcome seemingly insurmountable odds to excel at a very demanding sport.  Yes, she inspired the students in a way that few could.  They won't soon forget that day. Nor will I.

Celebrating a World Cup medal!

There's more than one way to get down the hill.  But you have to get to the top of the mountain first. Anna has done that in spite of a big tough climb.  To find out more about Anna Beninati check out this You Tube video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=df20npHysCU

The Antidote For Winter Depression: Mountains, Sunshine and Skinny Skis.

Sun and skinny skis: the perfect cure for the blues.

Getting through the Holiday Season was a supreme challenge this year.  On November 30th, while putting up Christmas lights, my daughter Erika fell off a ladder and broke her pelvis in three places. Celebrating the holidays took a back seat to just getting through each day.  Factor in the pressures of daily caregiving, and dark snowy days, followed by the foggy inversion we get every winter, and depression was sure to follow.

No fog allowed on the Mt. Dell cross country track.

Fortunately I discovered the cure.  It's as easy as driving a few miles up into the mountains to get above the murky valley air and taking a few laps on cross country skis. The treatment included clean breathable air, lots of vitamin D and a rush of endorphins as I glided along the groomed trails at Mt. Dell.  Skiing helped reduce mountains of troubles into molehills, while preparing me to cope with daily struggles and keep a smile on my face.  It was also somewhat monumental because I discovered that I can still cross country ski in spite of my diminishing physical capabilities due to my aging spinal cord injury.

Adaptive sit skis make cross country skiing accessible to everyone.

The skiing was thanks to TRAILS (Technology, Recreation, Access, Independence, Lifestyle, and Sports )  a comprehensive outreach program of the Rehabilitation Center at University of Utah Health Care for individuals with spinal cord injury or disease. They provide a safe and supportive way for those of us living with a spinal cord injury to go outside and play year round.

Ellie ready to hit the race hill at 6:30 a.m.

In addition I logged a daily trip to Snowbird to take granddaughter Ellie to ski race camp during the Christmas break.   I basked in the magnificence of our Wasatch Mountains, while spending time with my 12 year old would be Olympian.  Meanwhile, my daughter Erika seems to be well on the way to recovering without surgery, so life is definitely on the upswing.

The Snowbird race hill where Ellie runs gates.

I'm always amazed at the accessibility of our awesome Wasatch Mountains.  I can pick Ellie up at 6 a.m. and we're in the Snowbird parking lot by 6:20 if the road is clear.   It's one big reason why I could never move to another city or state.  I love the mountains and feel privileged to spend time in them.  My goal is to do that as often as possible.

National Ability Center Summit Challenge: Not riding, but still in the saddle.

The National Ability Center, Park City, Utah

Last month I had the opportunity to volunteer at the National Ability Center’s Summit Challenge  Bike Ride.  The event is an annual fund raiser for the Park City based organization that provides recreation for people with disabilities, from autistic children to veterans.

A few of the 800 riders at the start.

 I’ve ridden for the last four years, but this year due to my knee replacement, I was unable to ride.  I figured registering other riders was a good way to be involved.  Plus, I got to spend some quality time with my daughter Erika, who had also signed up to volunteer.

So Friday morning, August 26^th I found myself at the Newpark Hotel at Kimball Junction at 6:30 a.m. with NAC staffers Julia, Kassandra, Heather and Jan, and volunteer (and fellow spin class sufferer) Pat handing out bib numbers and swag bags to a good portion of the 800 riders registered.

   

Cyclists of all abilities hit the road.

Saturday morning, the day of the ride, Erika and I were in the parking lot near the NAC at 5:00 a.m. in the 42 degree darkness, setting up tables, organizing spreadsheets and bib numbers, getting ready for an onslaught of riders who had yet to pick up their numbers. There were three routes: a 102, 52 or 16 mile ride. The 102 milers started at 7, the 52 milers at 9, and the 16 mile riders at 10:30.

 

The Summit Challenge is aptly named.  The 102 mile route features 3000 feet of climbing, as riders navigate through Kamas, Woodland, Frances and Oakley up some insanely steep roads, sometimes in fierce headwinds.   The 52 mile ride isn’t any easier.  I’ve done 38 miles of that route and it beat me up pretty good, especially the nasty headwind in Brown’s Canyon.  Even the 16 mile ride has 900 feet of vertical and it’s no piece of cake. But it’s extremely rewarding, and well worth the effort for such a great cause.

Me at a previous Summit Challenge.

Husband-and-wife team Meeche White and Pete Badewitz founded the NAC in 1985 as a ski school for people with disabilities. White, a recreational therapist with a degree from Florida State University, and Badewitz, a Vietnam veteran and below-the-knee amputee she met while teaching skiing in Colorado, decided Park City would be the place. That first year, with a $5,000 grant from the Veterans Administration, they taught 45 adaptive ski lessons.

At the NAC, skiing is for everyone.

This year, their 30^th Anniversary, the National Ability Center will provide more than 28,000 experiences in alpine and Nordic skiing, snowboarding, aquatics, archery, biathlon, cycling, mountain biking, kayaking, river rafting, camping, hippotherapy—the use of horseback riding for physical and emotional therapy and more. It is considered one of the leading year-round recreation centers in the world for people with disabilities, as well as a center for training world-class Paralympic athletes. Their stated mission was—and still is—to provide opportunities to discover abilities

Good times with Erika.

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I’ve been involved with the NAC since 2006 as a participant and volunteer.  It is an amazing organization staffed with passionate and committed professionals who make life better for thousands of physically and mentally challenged people. They’ve transformed Park City and Utah into one big therapeutic clinic

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This year’s Summit Challenge is the biggest to date.  While it was hard to sit behind the registration table and watch those 800 riders speed by, it was gratifying to know that I was able to be a part of it. Next year, I’ll be back in the saddle, along with my daughter Erika, son-in-law Jason, wife Jayne and granddaughter Ellie.  It’s on the family bucket list. 

Kayaking at East Canyon Reservoir with TRAILS.

Putting water to good use.

Last week I went kayaking at East Canyon Reservoir with my wife Jayne and my friends from TRAILS (Technology, Recreation, Access, Independence, Lifestyle and Sports). TRAILS is the comprehensive outreach program of the Rehabilitation Center at University of Utah Hospital for individuals with spinal cord injury or disease.

Dr. Jeffrey Rosenbluth healing mind and body.

It’s the brainchild and passion of Dr. Jeffrey Rosenbluth, director of the Spinal Cord Rehabilitation Center. The goal is to get patients reactivated and socially plugged in through recreation, education, and wellness programs. Spinal cord injury or not, everyone needs the opportunity to go outside and play to be healthy in mind and body.  

Tanja Kari in her natural habitat, winning gold at the 2002 Paralympics.

TRAILS, under the daily guidance of  Paralympic gold medal winning nordic skier and Finnish wonder woman Tanja Kari, has put together year round programs and adaptive equipment that make it possible for everyone to get out and go whether on land, in the water or on the snow, regardless of physical ability.

There's a floating craft for everyone regardless of ability.

That’s why they sponsor events like the annual Kayaking and Sailing Camp every summer.  It was mega fun. They have an array of water toys suitable for everyone, from people like  me--mobile quadriplegics who can walk and have full, but impaired use of all their limbs--to true quadriplegics, who cannot use any limbs and rely on technology like sip and puff.

Sip and Puff technology makes sailing accessible to everyone.

Sip and puff is a high tech system that allows someone who can't move any limbs to put things into motion by sipping or puffing air into a straw.  They can control the direction of a sailboat by sipping or puffing, which causes electric motors to move rudders back and forth. With a little help from somebody who can help launch the boat and tend to the sails, they can have the same sailing experience as an able bodied person.  It also works on snow, on a sit-ski.

My wife Jayne paddling in the front seat.

On this day I shared a tandem kayak with my wife Jayne, me in the back seat.  It was a perfect day-- calm water, sunny, not too hot.  Paddling along in the quiet morning with just the sound of the oar slapping the water is one of those times you’d like to bottle and save for a cold wintry day.  It took a while, but we finally got our cadence synchronized and made some good headway.

Adaptive equipment like outriggers make kayaking accessible to everyone.

We were joined by Andy Dahmen, another spinal cord injury survivor, and Wendy, a volunteer with TRAILS, and an expert kayaker.  East Canyon reservoir is only 41 miles from my home, yet we were a million miles from our everyday existence.  Mother Nature has a way of cleansing our souls if we only give her the opportunity.

Removing the wheels from Andy Dahmen's kayak.

I’m fortunate to have fairly good balance, hand and arm strength, so I didn’t need any adaptive equipment, just a stable kayak with a slightly wider hull.   Andy’s injury is more severe than mine, so he needs a bit more help.  No problem.  A kayak with outriggers and paddles with Velcro straps to aid hand strength were readily available.  It also had removable wheels, so he could transfer from his wheelchair into the kayak and then be wheeled into the water.

Andy Dahmen getting underway.

We all paddled together and I can promise Andy's enjoyment matched mine, based on the smile on his face.  Truth is, Andy does a lot of river running and is a true outdoorsman, wheelchair or not. He’s the perfect example of how the strength of the human spirit can overcome just about anything given the right support…the kind that TRAILS provides.

On the water, with Andy and Wendy leading the way.

It didn’t take long for my arms to start feeling the effects of paddling, so we returned to shore after about ninety minutes of gliding across the smooth green waters of East Canyon Reservoir. When we got to shore, we were greeted by Tanja and Dr. Rosenbluth, who dragged our kayak far enough up on shore so I could get out on dry land.  They make it so easy to have fun.

Jayne and me with tired arms and big smiles.  

Driving home, we basked in the calm that descended upon us while on the water.  We both commented on the powerful uplifting we felt from such a brief interlude from our daily routine.  That’s the beauty of living in Salt Lake City, which is literally surrounded by mountains, lakes and rivers.   Mostly, it's the desired result that TRAILS wants for all of its participants: a life changed for the better, regardless of physical ability.  Once again, mission accomplished,

Out Of The Pain Cave, Into The Water

Knee replacements are commonplace these days.  Baby Boomers are taking a number and getting in line so they can get back to running, skiing, playing tennis, pick-up games of hoops, touch football, soccer or any other form of Weekend Warrior nonsense that ruined their knee(s) in the first place. Maybe they didn’t do any of the above and just had crappy knees to begin with. Mine was compliments of a bone-head motorcycle wreck when I was 16.

 If it was only turbocharged.

The fact that they’re commonplace doesn’t make recovery a routine experience. There’s a reason why the medical folks pound into your head the pain scale of 1 to 10.  You get to experience the whole spectrum.  Regardless, my knee had to be fixed.  Going up stairs was torture. Riding a bike was nigh impossible.

Dr. Thomas Rosenberg

So April 14, 2016, I put myself into the extremely capable hands of Dr. Thomas Rosenberg, renowned knee specialist and founder of Rosenberg Cooley Metcalf orthopedic clinic at Park City Medical Center.  He assured me that even with neurological issues from my spinal cord injury, I could still benefit and have a full recovery if I work hard.  Key words: “work hard”.

First steps three hours post op.

Surgery went well. Fast forward past the first two weeks of hell on earth, with muscle spasms, an uncooperative bladder, multiple catheterizations and daily doses of hydrocodone.  Fast forward beyond the home health care physical therapist prodding me to walk into the other bedroom one more time.  Keep going past the grueling therapy sessions at the University of Utah Orthopedic Center to the present, 14 weeks post op.

A special day: swimming with Erika.

Still walking with trekking poles on a weakened right leg, I find myself doing laps with my 36 year- old daughter Erika at Cottonwood Heights Rec Center--me with one good leg and her with one good arm.  Her left arm has virtually no range of motion due to an improperly used post-operative pain pump that destroyed the cartilage in her shoulder after a minor shoulder surgery.  Fourteen unsuccessful attempts to implant an artificial shoulder resulted in nothing more than ghastly staph infections and a railroad track scar from elbow to neck.

              

Me with one good leg.

Erika with one good arm.

Thanks to the magical weightlessness of water, we’re swimming side by side, exulting in the joy of physical exertion as we adapt our minds and our bodies to doing things differently rather than sitting on the sidelines. I’m using “speed fins” with small holes in them to provide some extra propulsion with a minimum of strain on my leg.  She’s holding a kick board under her left arm and swimming only with her right arm, with amazing results.

Adapting mind and body is a quest I’ve been on since breaking my neck in 1972.  Erika's journey began in 2004, when shoulder surgery resulted in the loss an arm and the beginning of a lifelong autoimmune disorder known as CIDP (Chronic Inflammatory Demyelinating Polyneuropathy).  The struggles for both of us are enough to fill the book that I'm working on.

A work in progress. Success ahead!

The final chapter of this post is that I have emerged from the pain cave, there is recovery ahead, and I’m cherishing a special time with my only daughter, as we both say “no way” to our potentially devastating physical challenges. 

Granddaughter Ellie Skis Alta's Baldy Chutes

Alta's Baldy Chutes.  The Main Chute is on the right.

Big Courage In a Small Package.

Ellie contemplating the Baldy Chutes.

In terms of determination and guts, I have some big shoes to fill: those of my 11 year-old granddaughter, Ellie Creech.   This last weekend, she climbed and skied Alta’s intimidating Baldy Main Chute.  This is a supreme accomplishment for any skier…but for an 11 year-old?                     It’s awe inspiring.  

It's a long way up.

To begin with, the hike up is daunting enough.   

It’s a tough slog up and parts of it are near vertical, like climbing a ladder.

Not for the faint of heart.

Slogging it out.

 It takes about an hour to get to the top, which is above 11,000 feet elevation.  

Ellie said the climb up was almost as scary as the first couple of turns down.  

Jason and Ellie at the top.

The drop into the Main Chute is near vertical too.   A fall could be very dangerous.
Fortunately, Ellie has an excellent instructor, mentor and guide--her father Jason.

Ready to drop in.

Ellie in the Main Chute.

Jason is a world class skier who lived in Aspen for more than a decade with Chris Davenport, a World Extreme Ski Champion and well known mountaineer/back country skier.  

Jason can flat out ski.   

So can Ellie. Three years on the Alta Race Team have molded her into a confident and 

strong skier who doesn’t flinch at the steep and deep.

An Epic day!

Jason and Erika chillin'.

Jason, Ellie and my daughter Erika are season pass holders at Alta, and ski 30 plus days a year.  Gratefully Erika, who was a Snowbird ski racer and expert skier herself, is back on the slopes again.  It makes my heart sing to see them on the hill together.

I hope to join them next year on my sit-ski…though I won’t be doing the Baldy Chutes.  I’ll be happy carving some nice turns on Sugarloaf or Collins. I’ll be the guy on a sit-ski with extra long legs and a big smile.  If you see me, wave and look for a hotshot redhead nearby.  That will be Ellie.

To see a POV video of Jason skiing the Baldy Main Chute in a previous outing, click here.

Paying for my stupidity one knee at a time.

More painful than tax day…guaranteed.

Is there anything more brainless than a testosterone driven 16-year-old male?  In my case, no.

This April 14, I will undergo right knee replacement surgery largely due to one Bonehead Moment in 1966.  In some ways it seems like yesterday.  This year will be the 50^th Anniversary of my Bonehead Moment, so it’s even more fitting.

Here’s my Bonehead Moment:

My Honda 160 Scrambler

It was a warm summer day. I can’t remember the exact date.  David Bickmore (my frequent partner in crime) and I were in front of his house, messing around on my motorcycle, a Honda 160 Scrambler, which was the 60’s version of an off-road bike. Translation: messing around means having too much time on our hands, which spells trouble.

 

Here’s the Bonehead part: the throttle cable, which hooks into the twist grip on the right handlebar, had broken.  It was just hanging loose unconnected, so to rev the engine, you had to pull on the cable with a pair of plyers.  That would have been enough for anyone of average intelligence to put the bike away and get it repaired before driving it one foot.

   

Not this 16-year-old testosterone-soaked idiot.  I figured I could drive it home with a pair of plyers in one hand and steer with my left hand on the handlebars.  But there’s more.  I also figured that before I drove home, I would go over the homemade jump that David and I rigged up on the street in front of his house.   It was very highly engineered....a ramp made of plywood with one end on a cinderblock. 

Evel Knievel used better judgement

With Evel Knievel in my head (and not much else) I took a run at the jump.  Predictably, the motorcycle went up the jump, the piece of wood teeter-tottered and I came down on the other side front wheel first.  Also predictably, with only one hand on the handlebars, I lost total control of the bike and crashed, jamming my straight right leg into the pavement, and ripping my knee to shreds.  

My 1966 Surgeon

I was sure I had broken my leg…which in the long run would have been better.  I succeeded in tearing my ACL and MCL, requiring major surgery, which in 1966 was performed with a chainsaw rather than an arthroscope.

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That little episode effectively ended my high school athletic career (and motorcycle jumping), requiring a good two years to rehab.  However, the knee held up pretty well until the last few years.  

Dr. Thomas Rosenberg 

Now 50 years later, it needs replacing, so on April 14, I’ll be in the Park City Hospital as Dr. Thomas Rosenberg attempts to repair the damage caused by my Bonehead Moment of 1966.   Any pain coming my way is entirely deserved and expected.

 

 I also expect that I’ll survive and do well in the long run.  He’s an excellent surgeon and I’m no stranger to physical therapy and rehab.   Dr. Rosenberg says that in terms of pain in my knee, it will be at least a year before I forget that I’ve had the surgery.  In this case, I think he’s wrong.  This surgery was 50 years in the making.  While the pain may subside, the memory of it will likely be with me for my remaining days.