Watching the Paralympics!

Me, the bf, and the girl packed up early on Sunday morning and headed to Whistler. The sun was shining. The air was crisp. We we eager with anticipation. By the time we reached Squamish, our coffee cups were empty and the landscape was changing. Huge mountains in the distance were solid white with snow. The sky was pale blue. We could feel possibility on our fingertips.

We arrived in Whistler and parked in the general parking. A bus on hand kindly drove us free of charge to Whistler Creekside, where the Men's and Women's Vision Impaired Alpine and Men's and Women's Sit-Ski Alpine events were taking place. We were bundled up in needless scarves , mittens, and hats -- all of which we ditched by the time we walked to the ski lift.

"It's so warm and bright" I said.

Then we hopped on the chairlift -- a first for the girl. Her eyes lit up with equal parts amazement and terror. It was awesome to watch. The higher we got, the colder it became (of course! THank you Grade 10 Science Class). And by the time we hopped off the chairlift, we were bundled up again in entirety and snowflakes began to fall gradually.

We grabbed some hot chocolates and our seats in the grandstand. We amused ourselves watched the volunteer crew manicure the hill. We watched the big screen for Olympic updates. A canadian had just won silver in cross country. Woo! The crowd cheered. We watched news crews interview the families of atheletes about to compete and then attempted shamelessly to get into the screen so we could wave and be silly. This worked twice until the cameraman latched on to our plan and moved slightly to keep us out of focus.

There were children trying out sit-skis to much fun and much frustration. There were disabled athletes all around but they were heroes. The strongest people we've ever seen.

The women's Vision Impaired Alpine race went first. Each athlete has a guide in front of them guiding them through the gates. They have microphones in their helmets so the guide can help them navigate the course.

It's nothing short of miraculous to watch them.

Blind athlete after blind athlete skiied through the gates and down the hill with an ease that was inspirational. Determination and sheer guts were on display all the time. When athletes missed a gate, they climbed the hill to go through it again rather than quit.

It was phenomenal.

Vivienne Frost from Canada earned a Silver and we high-fived with pride.

The snow fell harder. We shivered harder. We munched on homemade trailmix to stay warm and huddled while the visually impaired men tackled the hill. Then the women in sit-skis. Then the men again.

It was 4 hours of myth-busting awesomeness and raw courage.

The crowds may not have been as big as Olympic crowds. But the spirit was certainly large.
And as we descended the hill, we overheard a thousand people each with they're own "did you see that?" or "That was amazing!" memory.

It was a spectacle that demonstrated the power of the human syrup.
And, for me, a girl with a bad back who admittedly pities myself every now and again, it was a kick in the ass and a fire in the belly reminding me that anything is possible, and that sometimes it is adversity that inspires champions.

A life-changing day.

Paralympic Opening Ceremonies

We were fortunate enough to be two of 60,000 humble spectators at the 2010 Paralympic Opening Ceremonies on Friday.
Though the city was quiet, the TV networks seemed disinterested, and the entire excitement from the Olympics seemed to have waned, you wouldn't have known it if you were there with us at BC Place.

We received a spectator kit upon arrival and immediately donned our white ponchos, which it would turn out, made us a part of 60,000-person Paralympic logo. It was fascinatingly beautiful. A feat of great planning or choreography.

The ceremony itself doused us in humility and inspiration.
A little sister to the Olympic Opening Ceremonies, what it lacked in budget, it made up for in spirit.

Every performer: dancers, singers, violinists, and more were "disabled" in one way, shape, or form. And we didn't even know it. We had to read it in the paper the next day. They were the strongest most talented human beings.


When the athletes wheeled, limped, and walked in, the ceremony ditched pomp and circumstance for fun, excitement, and unity. We stood on our feet as they all marched in. We waved our hands. We did the wave. We Woohooed and Yayed. We stomped our feet. We screamed madly. We high-fived our neighbours. And the athletes went wild. They smiled bigger than their faces, waved generously, and waved their flags with the utmost pride.


When Rick Hansen rolled in, the crowd lost its mind. Screams for the Man in Motion were heartfelt and pure. He took centre stage and gave an inspiring speech and encourage the audience of "able-bodied" people to use the performances of these Paralympic athletes as an opportunity to realize that nothing is impossible. That everything is achievable. And that dreams are meant to be captured, no matter your challenge.

I clapped so hard my hands hurt.
I pumped my fist skyward. Yes!

And then, Lloyd Robertson, showed up on stage and in his familiar baritone said something to the effect of "30 years ago, a young man decided to raise money for cancer research..." and before he could say the name of the "young man" the crowd was on its feet, hollering, gasping, crying (me). He was talking about Terry Fox.

What followed was an emotional tribute to Terry, his life, his mission, his legacy. Then, with a picture of Terry on the stadium floor the Paralympic flame entered the building and 60,000 people collectively held their breath -- and when it was obvious that the torch was being carried by Terry Fox's parents, 60,000 people broke down in tears, clapped, hollered, and brought the place down.

It was the right choice.
It was the right people.
It was the right time to bring Terry home.

And it was one of the single most inspiring moments in my life.
I looked at mIke, tears streaming down my face, a toothy-grin wide on my face, and whispered: "It's his parents. It's his parents." and we clenched hands hard, as if Terry was out brother and these were out parents. And it was a moment of wonder.

The Fox's lit a circle of torches around the cauldron, then lit the torch of a young boy inspired by Terry with dreams of competing in the Paralympic Games one day. And the cauldron lit up. As did the spirits of the audience. And we got up and danced and clapped and smiled.

It was 3 hours of mad inspiration, myth-busting awesomeness, and shocking beauty.
And for CTV not to televise it across the nation was a shame.




Go athletes go!

Dear Dad

CONGRATULATIONS on kicking some serious butt in at the Chilly Half Marathon!
27 out of 250 at 60. Amazing!

You are the coolest dad around.
And I am SO proud of you.

Cheers to you!