In thinking about ‘disablism’, I found myself mulling over again how I faced disablism in sports. After all, I had the opportunity to represent Canada in Paralympic and non-disabled sport so surely I had plenty of opportunities to develop as an athlete, and I did. I consider myself lucky to have had extremely supportive and encouraging parents and a number of coaches who found opportunities for me to participate, but it certainly wasn’t always easy. My physical impairments aren’t immediately obvious to most people, though occasionally someone will ask or comment on something I do or why my hands shake so much. The visibility and recognition, or lack thereof, of my disability was a blessing and a curse when it came to sports as a young person. Being not quite visible, I didn’t face the initial barriers to entry that many young disabled athletes face when trying to participate in sports. The protests of “we don’t know how to coach a disabled athlete” and “we don’t have the facilities to accommodate your needs” never arose, so getting in was easy.

I don’t know how many of my coaches actually knew about my impairments, I certainly wasn’t forthcoming about them at the time, but it must have been clear that my motor skills weren’t developing at the same rate as my peers. I know it was obvious to me as I can remember how frustrating it was that everyone seemed to be able to learn how to perform sport skills quicker and more precisely than I ever could. As a sport obsessed young person who wanted nothing more than to be a good athlete, this was difficult to cope with emotionally. I can remember many an emotional breakdown where my mom or dad would comfort me and remind me to be patient with my body and acknowledge the effort I was putting in after I became frustrated with being less capable. But I always returned and I learned to adapt. I found that coaches liked athletes who gave 100% effort all the time, that most kids didn’t want to play defence in team sports and I could make up for some of my physical deficits by knowing the sport and anticipating where I needed to be or what I needed to do. I used these adaptations to carve out a niche role for myself so that I had the opportunity to play more often. I was allowed to play hockey with kids a year younger than me and I mostly played in ‘House’ leagues where participation was the focus. I also began to realise that team sports might not afford me as many opportunities to play as individual sports.  I’m thankful that I had the support to continue to play sports because it enabled me to develop adaptive skills that were highly valuable within and beyond the sports arena. Sports were a fertile ground for my development because I had a manageable amount of struggle, balanced with opportunity and strong support.

The reality is not the same for most disabled young people wanting to participate in sport. It is tough to get in the game to start. If kids don’t have a chance to play they won’t develop the physical capabilities and more importantly the joy and love of play through sport. The Canadian Long Term Athlete Development Model holds as the primary goal – ‘Active for Life’. In my mind, this is an admirable goal, but it is very difficult to achieve if there aren’t opportunities for children of all abilities to participate and develop early. Too often children’s sport becomes about competition and raising the best, most capable early developers to the top. Those who don’t have the same abilities or experiences struggle to find their place and too often drop out. There are sport organisations that take these type of open approaches, but they are in the minority. I also think there needs to be a more active and creative discussion about how competitive sport can be restructured to facilitate the participation of people with diverse abilities while still enabling meaningful sport development for those who are developing quicker. I think the “All-Comers Track Meet” is a good example of how this can work. People compete in sections based on time rather than age or gender. People race to win their section and results are posted, but the meets are more informal get togethers and the focus tends to be on the personal performance. I’m not sure how this looks for team sports, but I’m sure it could be done, though there may be some need to account for age development. The visibility of your impairments shouldn’t be the determinant of your ability to play. The exclusion that comes with competitive sport is as damaging for its emotional effects on self-perception of ability as it is on the physical development. When I was picked last, or short shifted I came to see myself as a bad athlete, when actually I was developing to be a very good athlete within my physical limitations. I hope as our sport system continues to develop it will be render disablism less visible in the sports arena.

Thank you to Mom, Dad, Bob & Marilyn Dailey, Mr. Geiger & Mr. Abrahamson, Doug Lindores, Brent Clark, Terry Smeltzer, Don Steen and David Howe for seeing my ability, giving me the chance to play and supporting my development.

There are many reasons I like the idea behind BADD and have chosen to participate: (1) it’s a chance for great blogs to find new readers and great readers to find new blogs, (2) it’s a simple and low tech but with huge potential – it ‘leverages’ the affordances of digital technologies, (3) it makes me actually take the time to write a post rather than putting it off for another day.

Here is my contribution to BADD2014. I’m not going to claim it’s my most eloquent writing but it’s a conversation I’ve had a few times in past weeks with various people (and more than a few times in my head) and today seems like a good day to write about it. My thoughts on this matter are still evolving so I encourage you to consider this post as the start of a conversation rather than the final say on the topic.

Does coaching athletes with disabilities require ‘specialized training’?

Premise: I’ve been involved in disability sport (or para-sport or adaptive sport) for six years. Though my involvement has most often been as a guide for nordic skiers who have visual impairments, I have also spent a fair bit of time volunteering and coaching for various ski and rowing programs. I’ve also served on a couple of committees and boards for organizers responsible for ‘para-sport’ development. One of my tasks has been to recruit coaches and volunteers for our programs. One comment I hear frequently is ‘I don’t have the training to coach athletes with a disability or volunteer for a disability sport program.’

My concern: The people I hear this from are often very experienced coaches or sport volunteers. When they say they don’t have the experience or training to work within a disability sport program I don’t think they mean they are unfamiliar with the sport – they mean they are unfamiliar with disability. My concern is that this position makes an assumption that coaching an athlete with a disability requires specialized training or different skills than coaching an able-bodied athlete. It doesn’t.

WAIT! Are you saying that coaching does not require training? Isn’t that endangering athletes?

Not at all – coaches and volunteers should be educated and have training appropriate to the program they intend to work with. This education can take the form of formalized certification, self-directed study, on the job experience, working with other coaches and ideally a combination of all of the above. Being a coach – a good coach – means learning to apply knowledge in order to recognize and meet the needs of athletes. Not every athlete requires the same thing from a coach or can be coached in the same way. If that were the case there would be no need for coaches at all – athletes could download a standardized training program off the web, analyze their own technique using automated software, and listen to a podcast of stock inspirational speeches prior to a big race.

When someone says they can’t coach an athlete with a disability (or equally that their club/program can’t accommodate athletes with disabilities) they are focusing too much on the differences between athletes with impairments and able-bodied athletes and forgetting that what all athletes have in common – the need for a customized program. These coaches are also doing themselves a disservice by failing to recognize the skills they do have. Any coach who can work with a sprinter and a long distance runner, a goalie and a forward, or a 12 year-old and a master athlete already knows how to be adaptable. Working with an athlete with a disability is no different – you start by applying existing knowledge and then you work with the athlete to figure out the rest. It might take a bit of trial and error, but not only will the athlete get the coaching they deserve but the coach will obtain a deeper understanding of the fundamentals of their sport. For example, working with an athlete who has a lower limb impairment or an amputation will force you think differently about balance and weight shift and coaching an athlete with a visual impairment is great way to practice ‘verbalizing technique’ rather than relying on demonstrations.

Being a good coach is not about knowing everything, it’s about about having a deep understanding of a sport and using that understanding to guide your practice. It’s the difference between knowing a piece of music by rote or knowing how to improvise on an instrument. It’s the difference between memorizing a textbook and being able to apply the theory outside the classroom.

Saying ‘I don’t have the training’ is just another way of saying ‘I’m afraid to learn.’

My contribution to BADD2014 To find more BADD posts visit Diary of a Goldfish or check out the hashtag #BADD2014 on Twitter.

Paralympic media coverage has long been a controversial topic for both the games and athletes themselves. Even with the recent move of coverage to online spaces, the increasing incorporation of social media and an increase in coverage of the games by Channel 4 in London 2012, there still seems to be a lack of sponsorship of Paralympic athletes these days (see the struggles of Summer Mortimer here).  And yet, there are a few television ads out there featuring Paralympians, a theme that is growing throughout a variety of types of companies from sporting goods to insurance. So the question for me became, with minimal televised coverage of the games, where are these ads being shown and who is watching them? These questions served to inform a portion of my master’s work, which investigated the narratives circulating with regularity within television ads produced by companies like Nike and Visa, among others; and what I discovered still has me thinking, even after the thesis has been completed.

First, I’ll start with some background info on my thesis. My project looked at four ads released in and around the 2008 Paralympic Games in Beijing. Three commercials were produced by Nike and one by Visa. The advertisements featured Oscar Pistorius, Rohan Murphy, Cheri Blauwet and Matt Scott. What I found was (not surprisingly) all of the athletes were ensconced within the “supercrip” narrative. The “supercrip” is defined as “the presentation of a person, affected by a disability or illness (often in the prime of life), as ‘overcoming’ to succeed as a meaningful member of society and to live a ‘normal’ life” (Smart, 2001 as cited within Hardin & Hardin (2004)). On the upside, the “supercrip” does provide a significant challenge to traditional notions and stereotypes of disabled people as tragic, dependent, inactive and anonymous. It offers an alternative, one that views people with disabilities as active, capable, independent and identifiable.

So, you ask, what is the problem here? Para-athletes are getting the exposure they want right? Not necessarily.

First of all, not all Paralympians make the estimated $1 million dollars a year in endorsements that Pistorius does — many far from it.  Second, we can see through the ads above that only a certain type of athlete is considered a good investment or marketable for companies (a quick search of YouTube can confirm this). But conversely, we cannot entirely let athletes themselves off the hook — they are more than merely passive recipients and transmitters of these narratives — but we cannot deny them the chance to support their athletic endeavors either, and sponsorship is a key aspect of being able to compete for many. Ahh, the politics of representation…

When we look a little closer at the “supercrip” this purportedly positive representation becomes in fact quite problematic in that (most importantly for me) it continues to circulate the discourse of negativity surrounding disability; precisely through the language it uses to appear “positive” (for a great blog on language use click here). It reinforces low societal expectations for people with disabilities and, even worse, it sets the standard that all people with disabilities should be able to attain similar feat as that of the disabled hero; failing to acknowledge the diverse ways that disability is experienced. Moreover, it risks further “othering” people with disabilities through the process of singling them out because of their disabilities (Smith, 2012).

This is compounded by the mediated and homogenous image of disability that the media presents to us in predominately portraying “disability” as amputees and wheelchair users almost exclusively (one which in my opinion serves to gloss over the issues faced by the disability rights movement and which creates an illusion of inclusion).  Further, it risks reducing the successes of these athletes and every day people to one of attitude (for a great blog on this click here). It creates the problem of presenting the image that all people with disabilities can emulate the Pistorius’s of the world “if only they would try hard enough.” This implies that “if they (Paralympians) can do it, why can’t you?” This circulates a narrative of blame for individuals who require assistance or who have vastly different circumstances than those of the Paralympians we are exposed to in the media.

But this isn’t the only troublesome part about the advertisements. We begin to see more issues when we question, who they are made for (marketed at) and what larger societal discourses they are incorporating?

Let’s look at the Matt Scott “No Excuses” advert a little closer here, as it might be a prime example of what we’re discussing here.

It is critical to note before going any further that the vast majority of Nike consumers are able bodied and Nike has just begun to produce athletic gear for “disabled” athletes (such as the Nike Sole in partnership with Ossur). Thus, it appears that Paralympians have been co-opted not only for their access to the disability market, but to inspire the already captured able-bodied market. Charles A. Riley (2006) asserts that many consumers are more likely to patronize companies or stores that utilize people with disabilities within their advertising. So the question again arises, who are these ads for? Companies and profit? Able-bodied fitness enthusiasts? Para-athletes?

So, back to the advert, there appears there are a few things happening here. First, we have the celebration of the disabled athlete for simply “showing up” in spite of it all, rather than his amazing achievements in the realm of wheelchair basketball. This is done through the presentation of Scott, and others with disabilities as having perhaps the best “excuse” for not participating, yet they have “overcome” this to be the best in their sport. Nike has found the epitome of the “Just Do It” slogan, perhaps in the people who have every reason not to. Second, the commercial elicits guilt from both the able-bodied and disabled viewers. Let us remember though, that majority of Nike’s consumer demographic is able-bodied at this time, so the way I read the commercial is that the company is “using” Para-atheletes as inspiration for a predominately able-bodied sport/fitness demographic. The viewer whether he/she is able bodied or otherwise should want to become active after experiencing this guilt. And of course, the first step to participation is great gear so purchase Nike! Lastly, the “No Excuses” advertisement ties in nicely to the rhetoric of neoliberalism. Nike does this by reiterating the belief that there is in fact no excuse for failure. Within the neoliberal paradigm, failure or an unwillingness to be the best is attributed to the problem of the individual — and a reduction in social services further this individualism. This narrative of blame aligns itself nicely with the negative ethos surrounding disability, as disability under the medical model is the problem of the individual, an abject identity and a problem to be managed/overcome/cured.

So what is the point of studying how Paralympic athletes are represented in advertising and media? Good question. As Douglas Kellner (2001) tells us, media culture shapes our values, perceptions of race, class, gender, ability and sexuality; it shapes our identities and our perceived places in the social world. Following this notion, media also tells us about ability/disability, and consequently things like Parasport, and Paralympic athletes. Thus, it is important to examine and critique these narratives.

Much like my thesis work left me with several questions, I’d like to leave you (the reader) with a few as well. What might a “progressive” advertisement featuring a Paralympian look like? What might be done to create promotional adverts that celebrate athleticism of Para-athletes that doesn’t have a “disability first” ethos of the “supercrip” narrative? How do we begin to create more sponsorship opportunities for Para-athletes, which might in turn give role models to young athletes and encourage grassroots participation? Most importantly, I wanted to share a bit of my research with Athletes First readers to hear what you think of advertisements featuring Paralympians; are these ads as problematic as they come across or do others have/see alternate readings of them? I am very interested to hear your thoughts!

My awareness within the record of ‘Spasticus’ wasn’t a shared awareness amongst ‘walkie-talkies’, so I obviously knew there was a risk that I was going to alienate a lot of people and they were going to get the hump with me, [saying] ‘What’s this fucking spazzer doing moaning?’ Well I wasn’t moaning, I was actually doing the opposite of moaning. I was yelling. – Ian Dury

As Ian Dury’s first single since leaving the independent Stiff Records for the major label Polydor, 1981′s ‘Spasticus Autisiticus’ was a provocative, or even perversely self-destructive, choice. The timing was clear enough: it was a considered public response by a disabled pop star to the United Nations International Year of Disabled Persons. But in fact we can and should go further—to release it as a single (let alone that it was on a new label, and with a new band) was an extraordinary, and brave, if also frankly career-shattering move on Dury’s part. A Sly and Robbie-backed Jamaican dance-rhythm pop song about spastics, released as a single, with a political message and a powerful and discomforting accusation?

In my new book,Shakin’ All Over: Popular Music and Disability(2013, folks), we see that Dury was happy to use language and even to produce music that could make people ‘wince’, not least (though not only) when he wrote songs about disability. Having said that, the lyrics of ‘Spasticus’ are not sprinkled with the swear words so common elsewhere in Dury’s oeuvre; much of their power comes from their startling simplicity, as here describing bodily imperfection and malfunction or mobility difficulties.

I widdle / when I piddle / ‘cos my middle / is a riddle…. / I’m knobbled / on the cobbles / ‘cos I hobble / when I wobble.

Yet the BBC did indeed ban the song (in fact the corporation had previously banned the 1977 Dury single ‘Sex & drugs & rock & roll’, so he did have a track record of controversy), though only until a 6 p.m. watershed, a decision which itself irked Dury. His record label subsequently sought to strike a defiant as well as sophisticated note regarding the record’s failure to chart, releasing a statement which said: ‘Just as nobody bans handicapped people—just makes it difficult for them to function as normal people—so “Spasticus Autisticus” was not banned, it was just made impossible to function’.

There were also protests about the song from the primary British charitable organisation responsible for the support and care of people with cerebral palsy, then known as the Spastics Society. Rather than a musical act of self-empowerment and the reclamation of abject terminology by a high profile disabled artist, the Spastics Society heard a controversial singer confirming by aggressive repetition in the song’s chorus the common playground insult. (It is interesting that the Spastics Society was no more successful than Dury at the time in overcoming the stigmatised meaning of the word ‘spastic’ in everyday parlance; today the organisation has rebranded itself as Scope.)

Further, on an Australian tour in 1982 the authorities in Brisbane threatened to have Dury arrested if he played ‘Spasticus’ live; of course he did it anyway. So a major part of the afterlife of ‘Spasticus’ has been in the context of its (partial) censorship: in the 1990s it appeared variously on a CD included with an Index on Censorship special edition entitled ‘The Book of Banned Music’ (1998), and on a Channel 4 television documentary on the top ten banned records in popular music history.

We might think that the removal of ‘Spasticus’ from what Dury called ‘the polio folio’ to be stored in the censorship file was one more act of making it ‘impossible to function’. Yet its drama can be replayed, and without loss of power. A 2012 musical play based around Dury’s songs, entitled Reasons to be Cheerful, was produced by Graeae, Britain’s leading theatre company for people with disabilities. There is a wonderful frame-breaking moment where one actor explains to the audience that, when he was a youth, John Kelly, one of the lead singers in the play, had been so outraged by the BBC’s response to ‘Spasticus’ that he wrote to the head of the organisation. Prompted, Kelly tells us the contents of the letter: ‘Dear Director-General of the BBC, you’re a cunt’. Following the laughter Kelly continues, with feigned surprise, ‘And I never even got a reply’.

And now, at the Paralympics opening ceremony in east London (where Ian ‘Oi! Oi!’ Dury would have felt at home, though he was actually a sort of middle-class grammar school boy) last night—co-directed by Graeae’s Jenny Sealey—we see in a quite fabulous scene a segue from one wheelchair user with a unique voice, Professor Stephen Hawking, to another, John Kelly, while disability rights activists wave banners around. And Kelly is singing—yes, he really is!—live for the television millions ‘Spasticus’, with its lyrics captioned on screens round the stadium.  So very, very moving and a tremendously powerful musical moment. (Of course, we’d had musical crips at the Olympics opening ceremony too: the deaf percussionist Evelyn Glennie playing live, and punk sneerer Johnny Rotten on record.) Hallo to you out there in Normal Land: possible to function.

We must too remember the important poem, a speech by the character Spasticus, on the back cover of the picture sleeve for Dury’s original single:

SPASTICVS SAYS: / MY TRIBE KNOWS NO NATIONAL BOVNDARIES / AND PAYS NO HEED / TO RACE OR CREED / I COME AMONG YOV AS AN EXAMPLE / SENT BY MY TRIBE TO PORTRAY THEM / AS THEY ARE, AS BEAVTIFVLLY AS I AM, IN ALL MY GLORY / MY TRIBE CAN GENERATE WARMTH AND FEAR IN PEOPLE / FROM OTHER TRIBES: / SOME PEOPLE WOVLD STONE MY TRIBE AND CAST THEM OVT / OTHERS FOSTER AND NVRTVRE WE OF MY TRIBE / THE EXTREME MEMBERS OF MY TRIBE ARE KILLED AT BIRTH / WITHOVT THE AID OF OTHERS MY TRIBE CAN ONLY CRAWL /        S            L            O            W            L            Y        / HALLO TO YOV OVT THERE IN NORMAL LAND / WE TOO ARE DETERMINED TO BE FREE

Are you planning to read about or watch the 2012 Paralympics?  Do you care about media coverage?  If so, read on.

My sample was all 39 Paralympics photos published in three New Zealand newspapers. And yes I know this is a very low number; Olympians got 47 times more photos, despite sending only 6 times as many athletes, and winning fewer medals overall.

To be honest, I was quite surprised to see that New Zealand athletes were treated so differently.  I don’t know of any other research that has looked at this aspect of coverage so I thought I’d share it with the AthletesFirst readers. I’d be interested to know if you’ve noticed these differences in your own countries, and what you think about them.

Photographs of International Athletes: “Them”
In simple terms, the disability of international athletes was hypervisible (Figure 1); most photos highlighted the absence of multiple limbs and showed athletes performing without prosthetic devices.  There were few stories attached to such images (see the Table); it seems their only purpose was to visually mark difference and to present Paralympians as exotic others.  Their results and events were unimportant.  Karen DePauw calls this the Visibility of Disability, where athletes are presented as disabled and inferior to able-bodied competitors.

While some images seemed to indicate universal sporting experiences such as the joy of success, the intense focus of pre-race preparation and the physical effort of competing (see Figure 2), even these reinforced difference. The individual athletes remained anonymous and were presented within traditional discourses of triumph over disadvantage as evident in the one-sentence caption: “Medals make life a lot sweeter for those, like this year’s Paralympians, who overcome physical disadvantage on the road to athletic excellence”.  The placement of “athletic excellence” at the end of the caption and presenting it as a kind of generalized accomplishment of all Paralympians again privileges disability over athleticism.

Photographs of Home Athletes: “Us”
In stark contrast, New Zealand Paralympians appeared in very similar ways to Olympians. Photos focused on success and sporting performance while minimizing or only discreetly highlighting disability. DePauw calls this the Invisibility of Disability and primarily represents Paralympians as athletes (Figure 3).

New Zealand athletes’ disabilities were visible in only 32% of photos, and even these were almost always tied to nationalism; the photos showed athletes winning, with their medals and/or highlighted the black and white colours of the national uniform with its recognizable silver fern symbols (Figure 4).

These competing forms of representation are clearly evident in Figure 5.  The three New Zealanders are presented with no visible disability in images that celebrate national success (two on top row, under the heading Winners are Grinners) or the effects of giving it all (bottom, second from left, under Tough Going).

All three international athletes appear with visible disabilities. Two  appear in images that reflect the exoticization of disability (bottom right, under Against the Odds).  The third, Oscar Pistorius (bottom left) who was arguably the international star of the Games, appeared under his nickname, Blade Runner, with an image that highlighted his high-tech lower limb prostheses.  Media coverage of Pistorius, who received 35% of all international images, diverged notably from other international competitors in that his visibility was not obvious in all photographs, and most of his images were accompanied by a story.

I suspect this is because abled-bodied journalists were able to see Pistorius as (almost) able-bodied.  They would have been familiar with his highly publicized but unsuccessful attempt to compete at the 2008 Olympics.  By seeing Pistorius as like “Us”, they represented him more like Olympians, with an added fascination for his high-tech, lower limb prostheses. [Other studies have also found this media fascination with so-called “supercrips” that continues to highlight difference.]

So what do I think is going on?  The results seem to indicate that the more an athlete is seen as being like ‘Us’, the more likely he or she is to receive in-depth coverage marked by nuance and complexity and fitting within journalistic norms.  The further away — the closer to “Them” — the more likely athletes are to be narrowly stereotyped or exoticized in ways that highlight difference.

The photographs of most international athletes highlight the challenges the mainstream media face in reconciling their beliefs about elite sport and about disability.  It seems that nationalism trumps disability — for “our” athletes at least.  On the other hand, even the most visible global disability sport event does not on its own mean that Paralympians will be treated as real athletes.

I’ll be gathering New Zealand images again in 2012.  I’m happy to share them with others, and would love to see what appears in your newspapers as well.Toni Bruce is an Associate Professor at the University of Auckland.  She is interested in how the sports media represent different groups, particularly those who are not historically seen as part of the elite, male, white, heterosexual, able-bodied ‘norm’.

I have been a diehard fan of the Olympics for years. The first time I became aware that there was another elite sporting event happening in the world called the Paralympics was during the Sydney Olympics in 2000. I was intrigued, but unfortunately, the Paralympics hardly merited a mention on the evening news. From that point on, I always wondered what went on there and if it was anything like the Olympics. Did they have Opening and Closing ceremonies? How many countries participated? What sports programs were there for people with disabilities and which ones would be included in Paralympic competition? And most importantly, who were these people and what were their stories? The best part about living in the host city of the 2010 Games was that I was finally able to unravel the mystery.

I was lucky enough to be given tickets to attend the Opening Ceremonies which turned out to be the highlight of the Paralympics for me. When I arrived at the stadium, the crowd of spectators was still riding the high of a fantastic Olympic Games and after a two week break, ready to show their national pride once again.

What happened in that building that night was unforgettable. From the moment the very first team marched and rolled onto the field of play for the Parade of Athletes, a roar went up and everyone was on their feet clapping, cheering and waving their pompoms. This incredible level of enthusiasm was sustained until the very last team had made its way onto the field. It did not matter what country the athletes were from. From the second we welcomed them into the stadium, they were ours, each and every one of them. The outpouring of acceptance and goodwill that I witnessed moved me deeply.

Lelainia holds high the torch as part of the 2010 Paralympic torch relay. She had the honour of carrying it on one of the last legs of the journey – right through downtown Vancouver!

The Opening Ceremonies was a joyous celebration of what is possible. It honoured not only those who had come to compete, but also those whose legacy has helped to shape attitudes towards disability in Canada and the world at large. There were beautiful tributes to both Terry Fox (which brought me to tears) and Rick Hansen and an amazing show which included many performers with physical challenges. All of this was a powerful reminder how much people with disabilities contribute to the world.

During the course of the Games, I learned the answers to so many of the questions I’d had about the Paralympics. Little did I know that by the time the Games were held in my own backyard, I would have one foot in the able-bodied world and one foot in the disabled world, thanks to a diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis, (an incurable, life altering neurological disease) in March 2008.

The 2010 Olympics and Paralympics came just as I was recovering from a series of aggressive treatments to try and get my MS under control and struggling to adjust to a body that was betraying me. When it comes to the Games, there’s a lot of talk about what the lasting legacy will be. Even with all the experts weighing and measure things, I don’t think they can ever really know how far reaching the impact will be. It’s a difficult thing to quantify. For me personally, it was a ray of hope at a time when I most needed one. Seeing Paralympians overcoming adversity and in some cases, seemingly insurmountable odds to live their dreams on a world stage helped me to believe that no matter what happened, I could be okay. 

I walked away from the Games with a clearer understanding of disability, accessibility and inclusion and a different perspective on my own future. From there, I began volunteering with the UBC Medical Program, granting interviews with first year medical students to help them have a better understanding of what it’s like to live with chronic illness and disability. I applied to serve on my city’s Universal Access-Ability Advisory Committee, which advises the Mayor and City council on matters of access and inclusion and was accepted. I’ve joined the MS Society’s Peer Support Program through which I help those who are newly diagnosed with MS. I was also recently accepted into a new program at UBC as a Health Mentor where I will be working with future doctors, dentists, social workers, nutritionists, physiotherapists and pharmacists over a period of 16 months, sharing my personal experience on a number of issues related to chronic illness and disability.

The theme of the 2010 Paralympic was “One Inspires Many”. I believe this to be true. The inspiration I gained through the Games changed my life. The fact that I am doing all of these things is a direct result of my Paralympic experience. While I know I will likely never be an athlete, I was inspired to find a way to reframe my MS diagnosed and strive to have it result in something positive. Paralympians, are ordinary people doing extraordinary things. They made me realize that the best way to challenge attitudes of what is possible for people with disabilities is to just get out there and show them. Living with a disability doesn’t mean your life is less valuable or meaningful and it certainly doesn’t mean your life is over.

I think that as a country and a host city, we set the bar really high with the example we set for equality and inclusion. I believe our challenge now is to continue that work with the same energy and enthusiasm we showed the world. The goal is to create communities where opportunities to contribute in meaningful ways exist for everyone. My hope is that the momentum achieved here will carry over to London 2012 and beyond and that Para Sport gains the media exposure that it so richly deserves. The world will be watching.

More than two decades of training and it’s all coming down to a few fractions of a second for Stuart McGregor. The three-time veteran of the Canadian Paralympic team has a time of 1:58.66 in the 800m but he needs a 1:57.98 to guarantee his spot at the London 2012 Paralympic Games. That’s the ‘elite’ time standard set by Athletics Canada for the Men’s T13 event (athletes with a visual impairment) — and with only 14 spots for men up for grabs (and only 6 spots for women!) — athletes are going to need to make those elite standards if they want to wear the maple leaf. (See which athletes have made the elite standards here.)

Stuart back on the podium at the 2011 Canadian Track and Field Championships.

The good news? Stuart’s done it before — at the 2000 Paralympic Games he ran a 1:56.62 to win a bronze in the 800m and, in 2004, he repeated the feat with a time of 1:56.93. He also won a silver medal in the 1500m in 1996 and he holds the Canadian records in the 400m, 800m and 1500m. But all those feats were before he was hit by a car in 2005 and his leg was shattered. It’s been a long long road back to peak form.

Stuart was out for run with fellow Paralympian Jason Dunkerley (read Jason’s blog WinningTrack) when, as he describes it, “It went from a pretty nice day to a very bad day very quickly. It was freezing cold and pouring rain and we were just running and trying to get to some shelter.” The pair were crossing a road when a large SUV came around the corner and hit them hard enough to send both runners flying — and total the car! Both runners were injured but Stuart took the brunt of the hit and the car bumper shattered his leg in 12 or 13 spots.

That was the start of a pretty dark time for Stuart. This was the injury that just wouldn’t heal — it took a total of 5 surgeries (including one to put a metal rod into his leg and another to take that same rod out), months on medication delivered by an intravenous drip to combat a bone infection and nearly a year on crutches. It was pretty depressing for an athlete who typically runs 50 to 70 miles a week. Stuart was bored, frustrated and desperate for even the least bit of physical activity. Thinking back to that time he recalls a friend stopping by his house and finding him lifting weights with the IV still hooked up, “I was doing bicep curls and bench press because the only thing that would make me even start to feel better was just doing the tiniest bits of exercise.”

But Stuart took those same skills that had served him so well as an athlete and applied them to his rehab. “Physio was one of the things I looked forward to because it was getting out of the house and seeing those small improvements — tiny little improvements. First it was a bit of range of motion back in my ankle, then in my knee and then just being able to move a little bit side to side and frontwards and backwards.”

It literally took years for Stuart to return to racing form — in 2008 when the team was being picked for Beijing he was still experiencing extreme pain and wasn’t able to compete. Eventually though, there was a turning point, a time when running didn’t hurt quite so much and he was able to start putting in the kind of miles and speed work required to be one of the top visually impaired runners in the world. By 2010, he was ready to make a comeback. But this time around he was doing it with all the experience and maturity that comes with being a veteran athlete. He’s learned what works and what doesn’t work for him and, with the support of his wife, he has created an optimal training environment. These days, Stuart works one day a week as a teacher at the Ottawa Christian School and spends four days at home with his two children — when they head off to school or take a nap that’s his window to train. “At home I’ve got a good little set up — I have a weight room and I have a treadmill. I love being home taking care of my kids and then having the freedom to run or do weights during the day.” As far as Stuart’s concerned this is far more productive training environment than what he had leading into previous Paralympic Games when he was balancing training with full-time studies and heading to his workouts already exhausted from a day at school. “This really is about the best environment I’ve ever had actually. I don’t know if I could be as good as I am right now or have comeback as far as I have come back if I didn’t have the support from my wife and this set-up.”

In addition to his family, Stuart’s long time coach Ray Elrick is the other key figure in his attempt to make the London squad. Stuart has been training with the Ottawa Lions under the direction of Ray since 1993. It’s a point of pride with him that he’s stuck with the same coach all this while, noting that some athletes are too quick to look elsewhere when the going gets tough. That being said, Stuart has learned over the years to take help where he can find it and he says he’s not shy about asking questions of other coaches or borrowing a method that seems to be working for another athlete. “Realizing who is out there and looking for different opinions — that’s one thing I have done a lot more of as a veteran athlete. Realizing who the good coaches are and what their expertise is and then just asking.”

Stuart admits that in many ways making this fourth Paralympic team will be his biggest challenge yet. “I’m so close to something. It’s something I probably took for granted before. I’ve always worked hard as an athlete but since my accident I’ve worked a 100 times harder and I’m not where I was at before but even to get where I am now is just incredible. But it sure would be nice to have that ‘elite’ standard.”

I had a conversation recently with someone whose sister has been competing internationally in Special Olympics. I found myself becoming a little defensive and angry because she kept saying that it would be really good if the Special Olympics and the Paralympic and Olympic Games were held at the same time as Paralympians and Olympians could really learn a lot from Special Olympic athletes. She went on to say that Special Olympic athletes are not focused on winning but on the process and on relationships with other athletes. I found this conversation quite unsettling because I have always been offended when someone mistakenly introduces me as an athlete who is trying to qualify for the Special Olympics. I realize that this sounds very disrespectful to Special Olympic athletes. That is not my intent. I believe that both types of athletes are to be respected but I think the focus of each athlete is different.

I am a paraplegic athlete who has just qualified to go to the Paralympic Games in London this fall. I have worked very hard to get to this point and I plan to continue to work very hard to do well and hopefully come home from the London games with a medal. That is my goal; to do well and be the best that I can be. So the Paralympic goal could be summed up as wanting to achieve athletic excellence. Correct me if I am wrong, but the marketing for Special Olympics gives the impression that the goal of Special Olympic athletes is more about participation and socializing and achieving a feeling of accomplishment by way of participating. Quotes from the Special Olympics Canada website back this idea up. It states:

The powerful social benefits of sport are of particular importance to people with an intellectual disability because one of the first effects of their disability is social isolation. For many Special Olympic athletes, training sessions become the source and the nourishment of their deepest friendships.

And another quote,

For many, Special Olympics is the only place where they find an opportunity to participate in their communities, develop belief in themselves, and feel like champions.

There is nothing wrong with having this kind of focus — just as there is nothing wrong with me wanting my focus to be perhaps more ego driven. But don’t confuse me with an athlete who is driven by a desire for inclusion when my goal is completely different.

Joan training hard on Swan Lake near Vernon, BC.

I always feel like I am being condescended too when someone thinks that I am going to the Special Olympics. And I have always felt bad about that because I then felt that I was also being condescending. But I am working hard because I have a goal of winning a medal. There is nothing wrong with having that goal just as there is nothing wrong with a Special Olympic athlete having a goal of cultivating relationships and being able to participate in sport. When someone calls me a Special Olympian, I feel as if they are down playing the fact that I take my sport very seriously and have put the rest of my life on hold while I attempt to achieve my goal. It sounds like they are saying “good for you” with a pat on the head, without really considering how much effort has gone into this pursuit. I am not racing to get a participation ribbon. I want to achieve a medal because I worked hard to be the best that I could possibly be.

This brings another point into play. As long as I have had a disability, there have been people who see me as disabled first and then as a person. And along with that there has been the misconception that there must also be something wrong with me cognitively as well. I have no idea why some people make that leap but never-the-less, the leap gets made over and over. So maybe I am a bit defensive to start with.

My previously mentioned friend thinks that sport is very ego driven and much could be learned from Special Olympic athletes. I believe this is true. But I also don’t feel it is wrong to be involved in sport because my ego might be driving me to be the best I can possibly be. Everyone has their own reason for what they do. The nature of each disability and the respective goals for participation makes each organization different.  That does not mean that one is greater than the other. Not at all! It just means we are different and neither one of us wants to be mistaken for the other.

Competition/sport is good. There is so much to be learned from sport. Sport helps to socialize us. It helps us learn coordination in our bodies. It helps us stay healthy. It keeps our minds healthy and more positive. Every person should have the right to participate on their own terms and each person deserves to be respected.

May 1^st is the 7^th Annual Blogging Against Disablism Day. I know what you’re thinking — ‘Why is that not marked on my calendar?’ It’s okay — you’re forgiven if you’ve never heard of BADD before. I have to admit it only came to my attention last year. But the concept is intriguing and I thought it was an excellent opportunity to reflect upon why we started the AthletesFirst blog (and maybe encourage others to share why they blog about disability sport and what other blogs they enjoy reading or writing for).

Blogging Against Disablism Day is the brainchild (as far as I can tell — my source is a Google search) of a blogger that goes by the name of ‘Goldfish.’ The concept behind BADD is to encourage people to make a post on May 1^st on a topic related to disablism, ableism, disability equality or another related issue and to share the link to their post. The Goldfish (and a few helpers) categorize the links (employment, education, accessibility, personal stories, etc.) and share them on various websites and on Twitter (@BADDtweets or #BADD2012). It’s a way of raising awareness around disability related issues, introducing people to blogs they might otherwise not encounter and to create a sense of community among disability bloggers (and I would hazard to add blog readers). It’s a model that has been used to raise awareness and combat various forms of discrimination — there’s also a Blogging Against Racism Day and a Blogging Against Sexism Day.

Back to AthletesFirst — those of you who’ve clicked the ‘About this blog’ link at the top of the page will have read that this blog is part of a graduate student project at the University of British Columbia — more specifically it’s part of my PhD project. But you may also have noticed the ‘Meet the blog team’ link and regular readers will know this blog is certainly a team effort with everyone taking a turn at writing posts and joining in the conversations. That’s because this blog is a direct response to a ‘gap’ Courtney and I identified a few years back when we were watching some teammates at a training camp sit around a table updating their personal blogs — a lot of athletes blogging but weren’t necessarily connecting. That is to say they were writing great and interesting posts for their friends, family and fans but they weren’t necessarily using their blogs to share stories, resources, or ideas with other athletes. I think this is what internet theorist Jodi Dean meant when she said “Each voice must be heard (but they don’t combine into a chorus)” (pg. 82 of Blog Theory). Athletes have perfected the art of blogging but, for the most part, we still haven’t quite figured out how to harness the power of our blogs to create something of value to a broader network of athletes.

Even as Courtney and I identified the gap, we also saw some indication of how things could be different. A teammate of ours, Meyrick (he’s a guest blogger here on AthletesFirst and a frequent commentor in the discussions) had a fantastic blog that he used in a rather unique way. Rather than just posting about his latest competitions and how his training was going (although he did do some of that) – he also wrote posts that he thought would be useful to other athletes with a disability. For example, he wrote many posts (and a series of short videos) explaining some of the issues he encountered as an amputee taking up the sport of triathlon — what adjustments to make to a prosthetic leg to make cycling more efficient, adaptations to the swimming stroke, tips for other lower leg amputees when trail running. The result? He got an enormous response from athletes with a disability worldwide thanking him for his suggestions and sharing some of their own. His posts about encountering discriminatory policies when entering races also attracted a lot of readers and a lot of comments. He was obviously onto something.

That’s how this project started. It was a little slow to get off the ground (coursework, comprehensive exams and — oh yeah — the 2010 Paralympics! consumed me for a couple of years). But when I asked Courtney if she was still interested in co-authoring a blog about disability sport she said yes (for which I am forever grateful). She then helped me recruit Blair, Jason, Josh and Stuart — the amazing blog team. Together we try to come up with posts that we think will be interesting to others (athletes with and without disabilities, coaches, volunteers, spectators and general lovers of sport).  Sometimes I think we succeed — AthletesFirst has been up for 5 months now and has attracted over 2,500 readers from 61 countries. The link to our blog has been circulated by email, posted on Facebook and tweeted about on Twitter. Each week the readership grows and a new voice joins the conversation.

So that’s the story of AthletesFirst and why I personally choose to blog about disability sport. What’s your story? Do you blog? Or maybe there’s a blog about (disability) sport you think is just awesome and others should be reading? Or maybe you want to tell us why you read AthletesFirst? Post your story and/or links in the comment section for others to see. 

When injuries occur to an athlete a lot of things go through their mind. “How bad is it?” “Is my career over?” “Will re-hab take long?” “What happens if I can’t race again?” Whether you’re national team or a backyard enthusiast, that nagging question of “What if…?” is an annoyance you must accept and ignore if you want to play the game.

I thought “What if…?” had found me a few years ago during a training session with my bobsled teammate Don Osmond (yes, Donny’s son) when after warm-ups we engaged in 50-meter speed drills that led to my short-term demise.

After a great start I began to extend my stride when I felt that dreaded pop in my right hamstring. I went down like a sack of potatoes and hugged my leg to my chest. It wasn’t the pain (that came about two minutes later), but rather the “Oh God, don’t let it be bad.”

I wasn’t ready to exit the field of competition just yet. We all want to do something with our lives, something that says, “I was here” and echoes for decades to come. As athletes and coaches we want to leave our marks not just in our sport but also on it. We want to leave something behind that contributes to the growth and history of our chosen pursuit.

That’s part of the reason I started The Athlete Outreach Project and help lead The Utah Olympian Association; to make a difference through sport and service. No athlete should ever doubt their ability to positively influence others, especially when excellence and compassion are combined. That being said, it wasn’t until I started coaching a fledging group of daredevil adventures that I really discovered the power a lofty sport-related idea can have in the world.

And I learned very quickly not to “dis” their “abilities.

“Why Don’t You Come Coach Adaptive Bobsled?”

Fate usually cracks the door of opportunity without disclosing the challenges and prospects that lie on the other side and when I entered the world of adaptive bobsled I found plenty of both.

What do I mean by adaptive? Although bobsled has been around since the 1870’s, (I started sliding in 1997) the idea of opening the activity to athletes with physical disabilities has only recently flourished through pioneering efforts of programs at the Calgary, AB, Canada and Park City, Utah, USA tracks.

I admit that I was relatively naïve when it came to athletes with physical disabilities. I knew about the Paralympics, but in the fall of 2010 I began the task of physically and mentally developing some of the world’s first adaptive bobsled athletes for international competition and (fingers crossed) the Paralympic Games. I quickly learned that most adaptive athletes are very open about their situations and that it is the “able-bodied” that create the quasi-uneasiness surrounding someone with a disability.

Working with the inspiring competitors found within The National Adaptive Sliding Sport Association (NASSA) I studied the differences between the various types of disabilities, prosthetics and the few limitations they possess. Together NASSA’s members and I have developed specific workout routines to help our seated wheelchair athletes grow faster and stronger while we continue to experiment with sled push-techniques to decrease their times and increase speed, an experience that stretched my sport knowledge as together we discovered what worked and what didn’t. An above-knee amputee may push slightly different than a below-knee, etc.

That being said, there have been plenty of concerns and obstacles to overcome in regards to adaptive bobsled. Programs had to be organized, funding had to be gathered, athletes had to be recruited and many safety-based fears had to be systematically dealt with. While the initial setbacks have been courageously conquered, some details still remain to be worked out. For now adaptive bobsled has two fields: standing driver and seated driver. Standing driver teams (amputees) use a normal bobsled while a seated driver sled has a roll-cage and a special seat designed to keep a wheelchair athlete safe in the event of a crash.

The National Adaptive Sliding Sport Association

NASSA’s founding group of athletes, coaches, directors and volunteers created the organization to provide the guidance, equipment, financial support and physical, mental, and emotional training that competitive and recreational adaptive athletes deserve.

And they deserve a lot. With all the sacrifices they’ve given for their sliding dreams and to make Paralympic bobsled happen, they’re gold medalists in my book.

Our director, Cody Reese, is a talented sled pilot who brings tremendous leadership to our team and organization. His father, Howard, is a faithful supporter and sled mechanic who helps me keep our equipment in order. Our additional athletes include pilots Koloa Wolfgramm (remember this kid’s name, folks), Marianne Page (two-time gold medalist at the US Open Wheelchair Championships and the world’s first seated female bobsled pilot) and Brandon Larson (also the fastest adaptive brakemen I’ve ever seen). NASSA has is lucky to have powerful and quick adaptive brakemen like Brandon, Devin Ward, Tom Seibert, Damond English and Geoff Turner (our token Brit).

The NASSA team

As a team we constantly push the envelope for ways to further our sport, find and develop adaptive bobsled athletes and locate the funding we need to make our dreams of Paralympic inclusion possible. It’s an expensive pursuit when you consider our sleds are priced like luxury cars and shipping them all over the world costs and arm and a leg (no pun intended).

“In NASSA the only thing holding an athlete back is themselves,” NASSA Director Cody Reese says. “If they are willing to work, accept the coaching and training, support each other and bring a positive attitude to the program, we will help them reach the highest level they can personally achieve.”

We are extremely fortunate to have the full support of our national governing body, the United States Bobsled and Skeleton Federation, as well as our international governing body, the International Bobsleigh and Skeleton Federation, not to mention the Utah Olympic Park and the Calgary Olympic Park. Without their support and encouragement our chances to create an international competition circuit and make it into the Paralympic Games would be nil. We’re lucky to have them onboard and express our gratitude.

Since its inception, the National Adaptive Sliding Sport Association has worked to establish a powerful record of professionalism, quality and dedication of its athletes and staff as they prepare for the first circuit of international adaptive bobsled racing in winter of 2012. Interested in joining us? Please contact us here for ways to participate.

Like its world-renowned namesake of NASA, NASSA will continue to make history. I’m just lucky to be along for the ride.

At over eighty-miles per hour.