An Olympic Experience

Guest post by two-time Paralympic archer and Mobilegs user, Lindsey Carmichael. 


I suppose I could be predictable and say that the most exciting thing about the Paralympic Games was standing on the podium to receive my Bronze Medal. It was certainly one of the best moments of my life. But instead, I have to admit that the most exciting moment was the Opening Ceremonies—both for Athens and Beijing.

Lindsey at Opening Ceremonies of the Beijing Paralympics.
Photo Credit: Kevin J. Stone

To this day, if I tell the full story of what it was like to be a part of the Opening Ceremonies, I will begin to get choked up and my eyes will become teary. I have seen this happen for other people, too, even the coaches and team staff members who were present.

You see, athletes aren’t spectators like everyone else. We are part of the show. So, on the day of the Ceremonies, the officials keep the athletes in the tunnel system of the stadium for hours until just the right moment for the Parade of Nations to begin. Everyone is in full uniform and grouped together by country. The waiting is almost painful, because everyone is so tense and excited. Finally, you can hear the Ceremonies begin with distant rumbles and music. They begin calling the countries out in order, one by one, and the line moves slowly.

I will never forget the moment when Team USA was poised at the entrance to Oaka Stadium in Athens.

Picture hundreds of athletes in red, white, and blue, holding our breaths in the dim light of the tunnel. Just beyond the opening, there is a swirl of brilliant light and color. Then imagine hearing the booming words of the stadium announcer in English, French, and Greek: “Ladies and gentlemen! The United States of America!” We surged out onto the track and into the bright light. The roar of the crowd was stupefyingly loud. I have never felt anything like it—it wasn’t just deafening, it was an avalanche of cheers. Around the bowl of the stadium, tens of thousands of people rose to their feet and snapped photographs, which produced a wave of glittering flashes. I have seldom felt so proud to be an athlete and an American as I did at that moment. The same exact thing happened in China, in the Bird’s Nest Stadium with an even larger crowd.

I am not exaggerating when I say that both times, the Opening Ceremonies changed my life.

Adding to the experience, I was struck by a true sense of community among all of the athletes. I had never seen so many wheelchairs, crutches, and canes all in one place, and all in different styles and sizes—some of them pretty tricked out with fancy paint jobs, too. Wherever you went, all over the Athlete Village and competition venues, there were people from all countries of the world who might have otherwise felt out of place in “normal” society.

And yet, there were so many of us that the usual barriers began toppling almost immediately. Even the most introverted people became comfortable speaking about their disability, their struggles to adapt, and the hundred little ways they had overcome their obstacles each and every day. We even had a professional comedian, one of our Team USA soccer players, give a stand-up routine to a crowd full of athletes—the kinds of jokes that perhaps only a disabled person might be able to laugh at, but good clean fun for us, anyway. It was surprising to discover that a community like that exists at all.

Throughout my Olympic experiences, I felt tremendous freedom to be exactly who I am, regardless of appearance or ability.

Teaching Your Children How To React to People with Disabilities

Guest post by Lindsey Carmichael

Most people are afraid or embarrassed to interact with someone in a wheelchair or on crutches, and I think this is common for two reasons. First, many people have not had the opportunity to interact much with disabled people. That’s the primary reason anyone feels awkward or nervous around someone from a minority group.

The second reason is a scenario I see very often and it is almost tragic. In an effort to be polite, most people will teach their kids to not bother any disabled people they meet. Let’s say for example that I am at the grocery store checkout next to a mother and her son. He is naturally curious about my Mobilegs and will look at me quite openly, trying to figure out why I am different.

Often a kid in his position will ask the obvious question. At this point, the normal reaction of the mother is to turn beet red, scold her son for being rude, apologize to me, and drag her son away. I feel really bad for the parent in this situation since they are only trying to be polite — and are probably just doing the same thing their parents told them.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t teach the child to be polite. This teaches the child that a disabled person is scary, different, and shouldn’t be approached. It is true that nobody likes to be stared at, and when I was young I used to be embarrassed. Think of what it might feel like for a mother to tell her son not to stare at you. Wouldn’t you start feeling different and wishing people wouldn’t approach you, either?

The best solution for this that I have seen is for the parent to allow the child to look and ask their question, then to answer calmly. Even if you feel weird, just pretend that everything is normal — and it will be. I love it when the parent suggests to the child that maybe they could ask me politely why I am on crutches. This has the added benefit of giving the child full permission to interact with me, and to become comfortable with speaking to someone different.

I am always sure to take the question seriously and to give an honest answer, even if it’s just as simple as “I get sore sometimes and these help me get around.” When a parent responds instead of overreacting, he or she will help the child and the disabled person so much more than if they simply tried to be “polite” in the first place.

Lindsey Carmichael is a two-time Paralympic archer and Mobilegs user.

Meet Lindsey Carmichael, Two-Time Paralympic Archer

The following is an excerpt from our interview with Lindsey Carmichael, two-time paralympic archer and user of Mobilegs crutches. Watch for her future guest posts here on the Mobilegs blog.

I was born with a rare bone condition called McCune Albright Syndrome. Basically, it amounts to lots of broken bones in my adolescent years, and as I like to reassure people, “rockstar parking.” It isn’t the kind of condition that really lends itself to sports, because even in something gentle like swimming there is the chance of slipping and falling.

When I was in middle school, a teacher suggested that my friend and I go take an archery class, and I stuck with it. Archery woke up my competitive nature. As much as I enjoyed practice with friends, I began to look forward to each new tournament, where I might have a chance to prove my abilities and determination. Little did we know at the time that my teacher's suggestion coupled with my enthusiasm and determination would pave my way to Athens and Beijing.

Photo Credit: Marsha Miller 

Archery is a sport that is open to just about everyone—whether you are short, tall, male, female, six years old or ninety-six, able bodied, on crutches, in a wheelchair, one-armed, or even blind. I fit into some of those categories (short, female, and on crutches) but I have seen all kinds of people find joy in the sport of archery, which really does try to level the playing field for everyone.

I upgraded to a pair of Mobilegs in February of 2011 at the suggestion of my dad, who is also my primary archery coach. My old pair of crutches had once seemed cutting edge, but over a decade of use had strained the nerves in my wrists enough to give me carpal and radial tunnel syndrome. This is bad news for someone who relies on her arms and hands all the time!

My crutches were causing me pain during archery practice and made me dread the days where I knew I would have to cover a lot of territory on foot. Sometimes I would have to ice my forearms before going to evening archery practice. So clearly, even though I had grown very attached to my crutches—enough to joke about them as extra limbs—they were doing me more harm than good.

I feel silly admitting this, but I actually put off trying Mobilegs because I was so attached to my old crutches. When you rely on something so much that it’s nearly impossible to imagine life without it. But once we took them out of the box and adjusted them for my short height and my unusually long arms, I was beginning to consider using them — you know, maybe as backups to my normal crutches.

Then, I noticed how similar the grip of the Mobilegs was to my archery bow grip – so much so, that when I first had the honor of talking to Jeff Weber, the designer of Mobilegs, I asked if he had used an archery bow grip as his inspiration. (He hadn’t—he just has the good sense to make an adaptive product that conforms to a moving human body, instead of the other way around.)

Mobilegs have become far more than I guessed they would. I use them all the time and can barely stand to be on my old pair of crutches. I took Mobilegs with me everywhere throughout my final semester at the University of Texas, with all its staircases, steep hills, crowded hallways, and slippery linoleum. I even used them to walk in my commencement ceremonies when I went to receive my diploma and more recently, out dancing with my boyfriend.

Additionally, I really like that Mobilegs look cool. My old crutches were things I went out of my way to hide, to the point that I would photoshop them out of photographs. Mobilegs feel more like big accessories. I get compliments on them just as much as I would from a nice purse or pretty pair of earrings. That may seem like a small consideration… but when you have to keep something with you 24/7, you want it to look good.

Most importantly, though, at the end of a day spent on Mobilegs, I can shoot archery without pain. I can type, and write, and swim laps, and chop vegetables, and do all the things that used to make my wrists ache after a day spent bearing my full body weight at the worst possible angle.