By Glenda Reynolds
I am blessed to have a family who has loved me from the beginning, even after learning that I was severely handicapped with spastic quadriplegia and cerebral palsy. What is that? You may ask. Fill your coffee mug and sit a spell while I tell you my story.
My handicap means that I can't move anything from the neck down, normally that is. I can't speak either. I can spastically wave my arms and nod my head, but my muscles are constantly tensed. My illness was caused when the umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck in the womb. The doctors tried to talk my parents into institutionalizing me for life since they saw me as a vegetable. My parents saw life and intelligence in my eyes. They refused to follow through with the doctor's suggestion. Instead, they gave me a life of a normal child as much as possible.
It may seem strange to you to know that when I was a kid, I played hockey in the street with my friends, all the while unable to really move for myself. I was pushed around in my wheelchair in the street; my helper would guide the hockey stick. I would swim with my family, although it was more like I would sink to the bottom. When I was brought to the surface, I would laugh. My father was convinced more than ever that he had made the right decision for me and my quality of life.
When I was 12 year old, my parents discovered a machine that I could finally communicate with that they dubbed the "Hope Machine". I used this by tapping letters on a console. I was now able to attend school with my peers. When I was 15, I used this machine to ask my father if we could participate in a charity race for a paralyzed teenager in a 5-mile race. At the time, my father wasn't a runner. That soon changed. He loved it when I told him when we ran together, meaning when he pushed me in my wheelchair, it was as if my disability was gone.
My dad didn't hesitate for a minute saying, "This is something you need to do, and I need to do it for you."
For many years thereafter my father and I participated in the Boston Marathon as well as the Ironman Triathlon. He ran behind me, pushing my 3-wheeled custom racing wheelchair. The road was very rough and winding, but he endured it for my sake. He did this without complaining, forcing his body to go the distance. At the water's edge, he secured a towing rope around his shoulder and arm while he swam with me as I lay in an inflatable boat. I know that things seem lighter in the water. Still, I did weigh 110 pounds; it must not have been easy for him to do. I inhaled the scent of the ocean as I watched seagulls beat the air with their wings above me. I felt the gentle rhythmic motions of my father's strokes through the water for 2.4 miles. When we arrived at the shore, he picked me up, lovingly secured my helmet on my head, strapped me to the front of his bicycle, and he peddled for 112 miles. The last phase of the Ironman Triathlon was a marathon run of 26.2 miles in which he pushed my wheelchair. As we got closer to the finish line, hundreds of people lined the streets to cheer us on. I raised my arms the best that I could, urging us forward towards the finish and felt triumphant.
On April 22, 2014, the Boston Globe news piece read, "Dick and Rick Hoyt Run 32nd and Last Marathon". That was our last Boston Marathon as a team. You see, my father was 73 at the time; I was 52. My dad's body let him know that he couldn't continue these races. The year before this was the terrorist bombing which stopped the marathon. Like a malevolent storm, this act of terrorism left victims in its ugly wake. My father was determined to come back and complete the race the next year which became our last race together. The article went on to credit Team Hoyt for running more than 1,000 races in marathons and triathlons 32 of those races were Boston marathons.
Although my father and I are no longer a running team, a close friend has taken his place as we continue to run in the Boston Marathons. I have lived a life that only few people dream about. I am forever thankful to the many people who loved and supported me throughout my life. I am looking forward to what life holds for me in the future.
Author Bio
Glenda Reynolds was born in Johnson City, TN and has lived on the East Coast of the U.S. She started writing in 2010 when vampires took over the silver screen and TV; this inspired her to write a paranormal romance, "Mayan World of Vampires". She does her best writing looking out at her sunny Florida garden while her husband begs her to make dinner. She's an occasional book cover maker and UFC lover. She has been a contributing author of several Giant Tales anthologies as well as spearheaded "The Power of Forgiveness: a Collection of Short Stories" and "31 Days of October, Vol. 1". Glenda currently resides in the Florida Panhandle with her husband Bob and two cats Opie and Fiona.
Please visit her author page at Weebly ~
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Team Hoyt
Non-FictionThe story of a severely handicapped son and a father that took them both through many marathons and triathlons for the love of his son. Based on true events and told as first person point of view even though Rick Hoyt cannot speak.
