thedrifter
01-16-09, 09:28 AM
His spirit rolls
After losing both legs in Iraq, Travis Dodson has a remarkable attitude as he sets out on a quest to become an elite wheelchair racer
By DALE ROBERTSON Copyright 2009 Houston Chronicle
Jan. 15, 2009, 11:11PM
The way Travis Dodson sees it, he’s a very fortunate guy. He still has a great family and lots of good, caring friends. And he’s still driven to live a full and happy life.
In fact, Dodson may harbor dreams and aspirations today that he never would have had if a grenade lobbed through an open window by an Iraqi insurgent hadn’t landed in his lap on Valentine’s Day 2007, blowing off the Marine’s left leg at the hip and his right one below the knee.
However, Dodson prefers not to talk too much about his dreams right now. While he can no longer physically take one step at a time, that’s how he’s approaching his future. Of course he’d like to be able to picture himself winning gold medals as a star paralympian long-distance wheelchair racer. But, he admitted, “I’m real wary of saying I want to do that. I’m just starting out in this sport. I’m still trying to figure out what it’s all about. I haven’t done anything yet.”
This is true. The Chevron Houston Wheelchair Half Marathon on Sunday will be only the second competition the 23-year-old Dodson has attempted. He made his debut in San Antonio’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon in November and finished last. He says of Houston, “I hope I’m ready,” but he fully expects to finish last here, too.
“I’m not going to come in (ahead of) anybody,” Dodson concedes. “I’m the bottom of the barrel right now as far as wheelchair racers go. But I promise I’ll be pushing as hard as I can.”
And that’s the reason Dodson has two extraordinary people in his corner, people who recognize his tremendous potential.
“We saw his work ethic from the beginning,” said Dodson’s trainer, Wendy Gumbert-Mendoza, the U.S. national paralympics track coach. “He has all the tools and the mental state to become an elite athlete. He’s a likeable guy and really fun to work with. He’s very sincere, genuine and honest. But, sure, he’s got a lot to learn.”
Gumbert-Mendoza seems the right person to teach him. Although fully ambulatory herself, she has been mentoring wheelchair athletes for nearly 20 years and is also the former coach of the U.S. Paralympic rugby team.
“Athletes are athletes,” she said. “Paralympians use wheels instead of their feet. That’s the only difference.”
Guidance of a legend
Gumbert-Mendoza switched over to track after she met and subsequently married Saśl Mendoza, a man spectators are sure to recognize Sunday. He has won Houston’s wheelchair marathon several times and, in his prime, was the greatest wheelchair marathoner on the planet, winning gold medals in the Atlanta and Sydney Paralympics.
Such is Mendoza’s stature that he was voted Mexico’s top athlete — not para-athlete — of the 20th century. Even at 42, he remains among the best distance racers in the world. So, if Saśl and Wendy think you’ve got the right stuff to be a champion, then you probably do. All Dodson lacks is a refined technique and experience.
“His stroke development will take time — it’s not something you can just pick up automatically,” Gumbert-Mendoza said. “We recently got him a new chair and, although it’s a better chair for the long haul, it has set him back a little right now. We are having challenges with his seating position.”
That part doesn’t easily translate for Mendoza. He lost the use of his legs after contracting polio as a child, but he still has them. Dodson’s ergonomics are quite different.
Where the soon-to-be-former Marine is making huge strides is with his upper-body strength. An intense weightlifting regimen is sculpting a pair of arms that no longer resemble the ones that belonged to the skinny high school golfer back in Deming, N.M., where he grew up.
“I wasn’t all that athletic,” Dodson said. “I fell in love with physical conditioning when I joined the Marines. I liked the sensation of being tired and pushing through it. Now, I couldn’t be happy if I was just sitting around.”
He crossed paths with Gumbert-Mendoza, who lives in Wimberly with Saśl and their son, in early October. Representing the American Paralympics program and the San Antonio marathon, she visited the Center for the Intrepid, the spectacular new rehab facility at San Antonio’s Brooke Army Medical Center that has become Dodson’s second home.
They clicked for all the aforementioned reasons, but that doesn’t mean he immediately embraced what she was pitching. Gumbert-Mendoza had to do a bit of cajoling.
“I finally gave in,” Dodson said. “The first time in the (racing) chair, it felt awkward, uncomfortable, weird. I asked myself, ‘Why am I doing this?’ But now I’m glad I did it.”
Olympic glory possible
If Dodson stays the course, Gumbert-Mendoza believes he could attempt to qualify for the U.S. Paralympics team for London in 2012 and be a medal contender by 2016.
Ask Dodson where his life might have taken him if he hadn’t been in the wrong place at the wrong time one winter afternoon in deadly Anbar Province and he doesn’t have a ready answer. Like many young men and women, he joined the military to figure out who he was. The experience changed him in every imaginable way — many would say tragically.
Not Dodson, however. No matter how close you listen, you hear no trace of anger or self-pity in his voice. He’ll tell you he wasn’t the unluckiest guy in that house. The grenade, which struck Dodson while he sat on the floor cleaning his rifle, killed fellow Lance Cpl. Daniel Morris, a 19-year-old radio operator.
And, while Dodson’s ordeal has been an arduous, often horrifically painful one, requiring multiple surgeries and countless hours of therapy, he figures he’s a stronger, better man today than he might have become had he left Iraq unharmed.
Next fall he will enroll at the University of Arizona, which offers one of the country’s top disabled sports programs.
“I’m competitive,” Dodson said. “So I’ll try to go for it. I hope to be good enough to make the team.”
All Dodson asks in return — from everybody — is that they don’t feel sorry for him.
“A lot of people want to,” he said. “But I always try to tell them my life’s not worse because of what happened. It’s just different.”
dale.robertson@chron.com
Ellie
After losing both legs in Iraq, Travis Dodson has a remarkable attitude as he sets out on a quest to become an elite wheelchair racer
By DALE ROBERTSON Copyright 2009 Houston Chronicle
Jan. 15, 2009, 11:11PM
The way Travis Dodson sees it, he’s a very fortunate guy. He still has a great family and lots of good, caring friends. And he’s still driven to live a full and happy life.
In fact, Dodson may harbor dreams and aspirations today that he never would have had if a grenade lobbed through an open window by an Iraqi insurgent hadn’t landed in his lap on Valentine’s Day 2007, blowing off the Marine’s left leg at the hip and his right one below the knee.
However, Dodson prefers not to talk too much about his dreams right now. While he can no longer physically take one step at a time, that’s how he’s approaching his future. Of course he’d like to be able to picture himself winning gold medals as a star paralympian long-distance wheelchair racer. But, he admitted, “I’m real wary of saying I want to do that. I’m just starting out in this sport. I’m still trying to figure out what it’s all about. I haven’t done anything yet.”
This is true. The Chevron Houston Wheelchair Half Marathon on Sunday will be only the second competition the 23-year-old Dodson has attempted. He made his debut in San Antonio’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon in November and finished last. He says of Houston, “I hope I’m ready,” but he fully expects to finish last here, too.
“I’m not going to come in (ahead of) anybody,” Dodson concedes. “I’m the bottom of the barrel right now as far as wheelchair racers go. But I promise I’ll be pushing as hard as I can.”
And that’s the reason Dodson has two extraordinary people in his corner, people who recognize his tremendous potential.
“We saw his work ethic from the beginning,” said Dodson’s trainer, Wendy Gumbert-Mendoza, the U.S. national paralympics track coach. “He has all the tools and the mental state to become an elite athlete. He’s a likeable guy and really fun to work with. He’s very sincere, genuine and honest. But, sure, he’s got a lot to learn.”
Gumbert-Mendoza seems the right person to teach him. Although fully ambulatory herself, she has been mentoring wheelchair athletes for nearly 20 years and is also the former coach of the U.S. Paralympic rugby team.
“Athletes are athletes,” she said. “Paralympians use wheels instead of their feet. That’s the only difference.”
Guidance of a legend
Gumbert-Mendoza switched over to track after she met and subsequently married Saśl Mendoza, a man spectators are sure to recognize Sunday. He has won Houston’s wheelchair marathon several times and, in his prime, was the greatest wheelchair marathoner on the planet, winning gold medals in the Atlanta and Sydney Paralympics.
Such is Mendoza’s stature that he was voted Mexico’s top athlete — not para-athlete — of the 20th century. Even at 42, he remains among the best distance racers in the world. So, if Saśl and Wendy think you’ve got the right stuff to be a champion, then you probably do. All Dodson lacks is a refined technique and experience.
“His stroke development will take time — it’s not something you can just pick up automatically,” Gumbert-Mendoza said. “We recently got him a new chair and, although it’s a better chair for the long haul, it has set him back a little right now. We are having challenges with his seating position.”
That part doesn’t easily translate for Mendoza. He lost the use of his legs after contracting polio as a child, but he still has them. Dodson’s ergonomics are quite different.
Where the soon-to-be-former Marine is making huge strides is with his upper-body strength. An intense weightlifting regimen is sculpting a pair of arms that no longer resemble the ones that belonged to the skinny high school golfer back in Deming, N.M., where he grew up.
“I wasn’t all that athletic,” Dodson said. “I fell in love with physical conditioning when I joined the Marines. I liked the sensation of being tired and pushing through it. Now, I couldn’t be happy if I was just sitting around.”
He crossed paths with Gumbert-Mendoza, who lives in Wimberly with Saśl and their son, in early October. Representing the American Paralympics program and the San Antonio marathon, she visited the Center for the Intrepid, the spectacular new rehab facility at San Antonio’s Brooke Army Medical Center that has become Dodson’s second home.
They clicked for all the aforementioned reasons, but that doesn’t mean he immediately embraced what she was pitching. Gumbert-Mendoza had to do a bit of cajoling.
“I finally gave in,” Dodson said. “The first time in the (racing) chair, it felt awkward, uncomfortable, weird. I asked myself, ‘Why am I doing this?’ But now I’m glad I did it.”
Olympic glory possible
If Dodson stays the course, Gumbert-Mendoza believes he could attempt to qualify for the U.S. Paralympics team for London in 2012 and be a medal contender by 2016.
Ask Dodson where his life might have taken him if he hadn’t been in the wrong place at the wrong time one winter afternoon in deadly Anbar Province and he doesn’t have a ready answer. Like many young men and women, he joined the military to figure out who he was. The experience changed him in every imaginable way — many would say tragically.
Not Dodson, however. No matter how close you listen, you hear no trace of anger or self-pity in his voice. He’ll tell you he wasn’t the unluckiest guy in that house. The grenade, which struck Dodson while he sat on the floor cleaning his rifle, killed fellow Lance Cpl. Daniel Morris, a 19-year-old radio operator.
And, while Dodson’s ordeal has been an arduous, often horrifically painful one, requiring multiple surgeries and countless hours of therapy, he figures he’s a stronger, better man today than he might have become had he left Iraq unharmed.
Next fall he will enroll at the University of Arizona, which offers one of the country’s top disabled sports programs.
“I’m competitive,” Dodson said. “So I’ll try to go for it. I hope to be good enough to make the team.”
All Dodson asks in return — from everybody — is that they don’t feel sorry for him.
“A lot of people want to,” he said. “But I always try to tell them my life’s not worse because of what happened. It’s just different.”
dale.robertson@chron.com
Ellie