thedrifter
01-29-06, 08:38 AM
Mission: Defeat disability
Wounded veterans from across the nation converge on Wintergreen for some wintry fun.
By Megan Rowe
Daily Progress staff writer
Sunday, January 29, 2006
WINTERGREEN - Saturday morning, 9:15, and Wintergreen's Crawford North Room is abuzz with activity, so full of people that no one can walk around easily.
"She's solid. Yeah, she's solid," says one instructor, helping a woman into her ski boots.
"Where do we launch from?" someone asks.
Conversations carry on throughout the room.
"Whenever we stop, you want to turn yourself perpendicular to the pole."
"To start off, just kind of lean forward into the ski."
"It's going to be warm out on the slopes, too."
"Want to just roll out there?"
None of the more than two dozen people getting ready for a day on the slopes has two legs. At least, not the two legs they were born with. They were brought to Wintergreen by Disabled Sports USA and Wounded Warrior Project, which helps severely injured soldiers and Marines adapt to their new lives as amputees. They hail from such places as California, Kentucky, New Hampshire and New York to learn to ski, to move on, to continue the athletic lifestyles that may have seemed lost when they woke up in hospital beds with missing limbs.
James Stuck, 22, U.S. Army specialist
Stuck's life has been split in two. There's now, while he recovers from his five-week-old injuries at the Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, D.C. Now, as he plans to go to the Super Bowl next week and cheer for his native Pittsburgh team. And then there's before. "Before I got blown up," he says. Before he lost his right leg below the knee.
Before Saturday, he'd never skied, but he used to be an avid soccer player, and athletics in general come easily to him. At 9:45 he starts his lessons. At 10:00 he makes his first right turn on his ski.
"James, it's a mountain," yells instructor Ed Salau as Stuck hesitates before starting down the gradual slope on which he's learning. "Just ski, brother. Let's go."
Nobody can deny Salau his right to give other skiers a hard time. He attended Wintergreen's Wounded Warriors in January 2005, two months after a rocket-propelled grenade ripped through his vehicle in Iraq. Now he's an adaptive ski instructor.
Andrew Butterworth, who attends Saturday's event, was in the vehicle with Salau when it was attacked. Butterworth lost his right leg; Salau lost his left. Since they wear the same size shoe, they split a pair of ski boots.
Stuck is wobbly skiing on his one leg, still weak from the recent surgery that saved it. Even with a pair of outriggers, he falls often, hard falls, but he's always laughing.
His father doesn't laugh or smile as much as he watches his son ski. There's a sadness about Douglas Stuck that isn't easily noticeable in his son. "I told him before he left [for Iraq, less than four months ago], '10 fingers, 10 toes. I want you to come back the same.' I wish I'd never said that."
Leslie Smith, 36, former U.S. Army captain, now retired
It's mostly routine for Smith now. The stuffing of her prosthetic leg into a ski boot, padding it with foam so it doesn't move as she maneuvers along Wintergreen's more difficult blue-square slopes.
"I think today I'll be able to concentrate on new dynamics, really work on my left turn," she says, explaining that making a left turn on a prosthetic left leg is "scary."
Unlike many of the wounded soldiers and Marines, Smith wasn't injured in combat. She was a public affairs officer in Bosnia when she fell victim to an illness that caused a blood clot to develop in her left leg. She was given blood thinner medication, which caused an allergic reaction, and then she was given 24 hours to live.
"They were asking my parents if they wanted to bury me in the Arlington Cemetery or take me home," she says.
A new medication saved her life. Three years later, though, another blood clot developed. As a result she lost vision in her left eye. By then, she was already skiing at Disabled Sports and Wounded Warrior events around the country.
"I'm flying down, and I'm like, I'm skiing, and I'm an amputee and I'm blind in one eye," she says, laughing. "This is nuts. This is crazy. Before, I was scared to ski. It was like, who in the world wants to go flying down the mountain and take the risk of breaking legs?"
Bill Johnston, Vietnam veteran
In 1970, Bill Johnston lost both legs while fighting in Vietnam.
He's been an avid skier for 13 years, using a device that he sits in. He also swims competitively, scuba dives, sails, kayaks, hunts, fishes and plays various sports. It's vital for amputees to keep their bodies in top physical condition, he says
Skiing "is different at first," he says. "The more you keep doing it, the easier it gets."
By mid-morning, Stuck has progressed enough to leave his fenced-off training slope and meander down a slope where faster skiers weave about. From a lift above, other Wounded Warriors cheer as they watch him.
"Hold on, I can't celebrate!" James yells back at them. "I'm going to fall down if I celebrate!"
Contact Megan Rowe at (434) 978-7267 or mrowe@dailyprogress.com.
Ellie
Wounded veterans from across the nation converge on Wintergreen for some wintry fun.
By Megan Rowe
Daily Progress staff writer
Sunday, January 29, 2006
WINTERGREEN - Saturday morning, 9:15, and Wintergreen's Crawford North Room is abuzz with activity, so full of people that no one can walk around easily.
"She's solid. Yeah, she's solid," says one instructor, helping a woman into her ski boots.
"Where do we launch from?" someone asks.
Conversations carry on throughout the room.
"Whenever we stop, you want to turn yourself perpendicular to the pole."
"To start off, just kind of lean forward into the ski."
"It's going to be warm out on the slopes, too."
"Want to just roll out there?"
None of the more than two dozen people getting ready for a day on the slopes has two legs. At least, not the two legs they were born with. They were brought to Wintergreen by Disabled Sports USA and Wounded Warrior Project, which helps severely injured soldiers and Marines adapt to their new lives as amputees. They hail from such places as California, Kentucky, New Hampshire and New York to learn to ski, to move on, to continue the athletic lifestyles that may have seemed lost when they woke up in hospital beds with missing limbs.
James Stuck, 22, U.S. Army specialist
Stuck's life has been split in two. There's now, while he recovers from his five-week-old injuries at the Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, D.C. Now, as he plans to go to the Super Bowl next week and cheer for his native Pittsburgh team. And then there's before. "Before I got blown up," he says. Before he lost his right leg below the knee.
Before Saturday, he'd never skied, but he used to be an avid soccer player, and athletics in general come easily to him. At 9:45 he starts his lessons. At 10:00 he makes his first right turn on his ski.
"James, it's a mountain," yells instructor Ed Salau as Stuck hesitates before starting down the gradual slope on which he's learning. "Just ski, brother. Let's go."
Nobody can deny Salau his right to give other skiers a hard time. He attended Wintergreen's Wounded Warriors in January 2005, two months after a rocket-propelled grenade ripped through his vehicle in Iraq. Now he's an adaptive ski instructor.
Andrew Butterworth, who attends Saturday's event, was in the vehicle with Salau when it was attacked. Butterworth lost his right leg; Salau lost his left. Since they wear the same size shoe, they split a pair of ski boots.
Stuck is wobbly skiing on his one leg, still weak from the recent surgery that saved it. Even with a pair of outriggers, he falls often, hard falls, but he's always laughing.
His father doesn't laugh or smile as much as he watches his son ski. There's a sadness about Douglas Stuck that isn't easily noticeable in his son. "I told him before he left [for Iraq, less than four months ago], '10 fingers, 10 toes. I want you to come back the same.' I wish I'd never said that."
Leslie Smith, 36, former U.S. Army captain, now retired
It's mostly routine for Smith now. The stuffing of her prosthetic leg into a ski boot, padding it with foam so it doesn't move as she maneuvers along Wintergreen's more difficult blue-square slopes.
"I think today I'll be able to concentrate on new dynamics, really work on my left turn," she says, explaining that making a left turn on a prosthetic left leg is "scary."
Unlike many of the wounded soldiers and Marines, Smith wasn't injured in combat. She was a public affairs officer in Bosnia when she fell victim to an illness that caused a blood clot to develop in her left leg. She was given blood thinner medication, which caused an allergic reaction, and then she was given 24 hours to live.
"They were asking my parents if they wanted to bury me in the Arlington Cemetery or take me home," she says.
A new medication saved her life. Three years later, though, another blood clot developed. As a result she lost vision in her left eye. By then, she was already skiing at Disabled Sports and Wounded Warrior events around the country.
"I'm flying down, and I'm like, I'm skiing, and I'm an amputee and I'm blind in one eye," she says, laughing. "This is nuts. This is crazy. Before, I was scared to ski. It was like, who in the world wants to go flying down the mountain and take the risk of breaking legs?"
Bill Johnston, Vietnam veteran
In 1970, Bill Johnston lost both legs while fighting in Vietnam.
He's been an avid skier for 13 years, using a device that he sits in. He also swims competitively, scuba dives, sails, kayaks, hunts, fishes and plays various sports. It's vital for amputees to keep their bodies in top physical condition, he says
Skiing "is different at first," he says. "The more you keep doing it, the easier it gets."
By mid-morning, Stuck has progressed enough to leave his fenced-off training slope and meander down a slope where faster skiers weave about. From a lift above, other Wounded Warriors cheer as they watch him.
"Hold on, I can't celebrate!" James yells back at them. "I'm going to fall down if I celebrate!"
Contact Megan Rowe at (434) 978-7267 or mrowe@dailyprogress.com.
Ellie