Freedom To Move: The Beginning

With each step

I seek permission to be free,

Breath,

Survive.

     When I ran for the first time at the Canada Games Center in Halifax, I had no idea what to expect. I put my brave face on and called a cab that morning and headed for the games center by myself. This move was prompted by an email I received from Blind Sports Nova Scotia days before advertising a running clinic for Para-athletes interested in running. I was motivated to run. I had always missed sports growing up and never felt comfortable enough to participate in them myself. Thinking back, I sometimes have regrets about not taking advantage of opportunities that were presented to me. My anxiety and discomfort prevented me from being able to advocate for myself. I could not push myself to be welcomed and accepted in to sport. Not to mention the fact that my severe visual impairment basically excluded me from participating in the majority of organized physical activities and sports. Now though, was the time for change. I had the motivation, the skills and the courage to take a first step towards accomplishing my goal to be involved in sport and to push myself to do things I never thought I could do. I’m not sure where the courage or motivation came from, but I think some of it came from the new independence and strength that I had gained in the previous few months since moving to Halifax.

     On this particular day I was one week away from completing the defense of my master’s thesis which represented the completion of my degree. However, I felt that my academic accomplishments alone could not come close to fulfilling my life.   Each of my accomplishments has come with many struggles and it is the emotional strength that I gained through my challenges that brought me to the center that day. As I got out of the cab I had my cab driver show me to the door. I stood in the lobby at the front desk where I was greeted by a young woman working the desk. I told her I was there for the Para-athletics clinic at the track. She proceeded to point to where I should go to find the track. I reminded her that I could not see and assertively asked her to show me where to go to get to the track. I sensed a bit of discomfort from her (probably for not knowing how to interact or guide me). Surely she had never seen a blind female athlete travelling on her own who expected her to show her where to go! I ignored the insecurities that filled my head and walked with her to the track. When I arrived, I sensed that I was in a big open place and I recognised that there were other individuals who were in a wheelchair around me. In the core of my body I felt comfortably uncomfortable with the uncertainty of what to expect at the competition. Luckily, the coach arrived and his friendly and welcoming voice and mannerisms helped me to feel that my presence had a purpose. I was happy to sit at a bench while I waited for the clinic to begin; sitting often helps me to feel more at ease. The coach had everyone introduce themselves and I soon realized that I was the only visually impaired athlete present and that most of the athletes were in a wheelchair. I could hear the wheelchairs zooming around the track as I listened and waited. When I introduced myself, I mentioned that I had never run before, that I was new and that I would probably be a lot slower than anyone who was there (part of me wondered if this clinic was the right place for me or not). When I began to run with the coach I told him why I wanted to run. Running was an interest of mine but something I never-ever did on my own because for me, as a blind person, running was dangerous and nearly impossible. Running was foreign. I told the coach that I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to be at the clinic because it was the first time I had ever been invited to such an event. In high school, I never even considered joining the high school track team; it had never even occurred to me that it could be a possibility.

     The coach introduced me to Rich, who would be my first guide runner/coach ever. In one sense, I think it was probably a good thing that I could not see just how good some of the wheelchair athletes were, or how fast one of the amputee runners was. It allowed me to focus on myself and my goal of becoming fit and learning to run. I soon learned that naturally incorporating the correct mechanics of running into my exercise would be a journey of its own for me. I have never seen a track runner’s form so to try and understand it in my head and then apply the techniques to my own body is perhaps just as hard as running itself. Rich and I practiced walking in slow motion, moving the left arm out as the right foot goes out. Doing this was difficult and I felt a bit silly completing this activity. Thinking back, Rich had likely never worked with anyone who could not implement such basic running techniques. For many people moving your arms while running is natural, but for me, nothing about running was natural. For me, running represented fear that could be so paralysing that it would stop my arms from moving at all. What running also represented was the ability to move from fear to freedom-a feeling I long to work towards in my running endeavours. I think that if I can learn to run, accept my fear and alleviate my anxiety, I can experience freedom to move.