Dale Layne came to New York City from his home in Guyana, South America to find a treatment for his congenital glaucoma. He found a treatment but not a cure and at age nineteen lost most of his sight. Today, Dale is twenty-seven and his eyesight has not improved. He’s blind and is among the approximate 21.2 million people who reported experiencing vision loss in the 2006 National Health Interview Survey. (Link)Here in New York, the New York State Commission for the Blind and Visually Handicapped (link) estimates that there are 120,000 blind New Yorkers and nearly 1 million New Yorkers with vision loss. Of those 120,000 blind New Yorkers, I currently know three intimately. When we meet, we're tethered as we run through the park. Today, *Dale and I tethered to together during the Run With Heidi Program where we're training along with four others to run the August 16, 2009 New York City Half-Marathon.
Dale and I met through the Achilles Track Club where he has been running about four to six miles twice per week. Dale said that the idea of running for thirteen miles is exciting and a little scary but since he lost his eyesight he is determined to face new challenges. He hopes that by running thirteen miles he can be an inspiration to others.
Today, Heidi Jones posted to her blog that Dale, "has a quiet, but impressionable demeanor that captivated all of us." After hearing more of Dales' plight I agree and add that a real man came from Guyana to help inspire us all.
*My May 12, 2009 blog post stated that Richard Bernstein would be my blind running partner. Richard has since left the team.
Dare To Dream Really Big
Today's half-marathon training run was glorious! Sunny and cool with the temps in 60's. I was especially inspired after talking earlier with fellow Achilles Guide, Jack M. and listened intently about his first guiding experience.
Jack was one of four guides for a blind runner competing in the NYC marathon a few years ago. With responsibilities that included getting more for his runner, Jack was 'double running'. Meaning that after he had to stop for the water he would than have to run to catch up to the rest of his team. Jack ran like this for 13 miles until his group took off and left him (not intentionally) and Jack ran the rest of the marathon alone and finished exhausted.
I'm looking forward to 'double running' with the Run With Heidi Team under the guidance of two professional coaches. And the best thing is, I won't have to do it alone.
Navigating a bicycle through and over New York City's streets, highways and bridges on a good day is cause for stress. Add on pelting rain, bracing winds, crater sized potholes and the responsibility of a blind cycling partner brings on a bit more anxiety.
Last Sunday along with 38,000 riders we pedaled a tandem bike 42 plus miles through all of NYC five boroughs during the 2009 Five Borough Bike Tour. Imagine riding along the BQE with bay and ocean winds in your face. Or speeding down the center lane of a car-free Varrazano Bridge hooting and hollering with joy and frozen feet. Get the picture? Or should I say, "Feeling"?
As a volunteer with the Achilles Track Club, Sunday's ride was my first on a tandem bike. Partnering with the funny, intelligent, curious, energetic Eliza, we set off to explore and conquer New York City's highways and byways. Eliza had just one request. “I’m relatively new to New York so, would you please "describe where we ride."
Think you have good communication skills? Give them a test while seated in front of a blind athlete on a bicycle through New York and see how you fare. I teach communication skills and I was amazed over how many details I became aware of as I acted as guide. How, for example do you describe the steel, lace lattice work of the Madison Avenue Bridge to someone who's never 'seen' steel lace lattice and may never have the opportunity? "To your left is Roosevelt Island where the remains of the Small Pox Hospital stands like an old man with crumbling bones. And directly in front of us at twelve o'clock, I can just make out the spires of the Williamsburg Bridge peaking through the fog.”
Biking with a visually impaired athlete on a tandem is an exercise in mutual trust and I was especially nervous about the responsibility. But my anxiety began to subside as we rode through the darkened and echoed underpass below New York Hospital where thousands of riders screamed and hooted and Eliza exclaimed, “Wow, this is so incredible!” Incredible indeed.
Without going into a travelogue, the best part of the ride for me came when we sped down the Varazzano Bridge at 35 mph, rain pelted our faces and Eliza screamed, “I feel soooooo Alive!” I too, felt more alive than I have in a very long time.
The event ended at the Staten Island Ferry Station where wet and tired riders sailed back to Manhattan. With other Achilles’ athletes and volunteers splayed across the ferry’s seats, Eliza and I decided that we would pedal from Battery Park back to Central Park instead of taking the subway. “I want the full experience,” she said. “Why not,” I responded. “We are so Alive.”
I volunteered at this year's Hope and Possibility event with the Achilles Track Club. The Achilles' mission to "enable people with all types of disabilities to participate in mainstream athletics, to promote personal achievement, enhanced self esteem, and the lowering of barriers between people."
On June 22nd over 3,500 people, 'abled' and 'disabled' ran 5 miles in New York City's Central Park. Of the 3,500 runners there was a large contingency of disabled military veterans. Some where racing on their hand crank chairs while others competed on their foot or two feet, depending upon their amputations. Of all the veterans I saw and or spoke with the first thing I noticed was their youth. Most where veterans of the current Iraq and Afghanistan operations. None appeared older than twenty-five.
'Bobby' rolled up to me at the sound stage at the end of the race in a traditional wheelchair which, must have been quite cumbersome to have pushed over five hilly miles. This was Bobby's first race and he was excited to see how his time compared to the running competitors."Do you know the first place winner's time for the runners?" He asked me. "No, I don't but I'll find out for you." I found out that the runner who came in first was a full minute ahead of Bobby's finishing wheelchair time as told him as much. His face fell in disappointment. "Really? Wow, I guess I have a lot of work to do on getting faster." I told Bobby that I though that he did a great job for this being his first time racing in the chair.
We chatted for a few more minutes where Bobby told me that he had his leg blown off in Iraq and that he just survived his sixteenth and final operation. I wondered which was worse, the loss of his leg or the 16 operations? Here was this kid who had lost his leg, went through who knows how much unbearable pain and he's smiling telling me his story. I thanked him for his service. He asked if I was in the military. "My only connection to the military," I responded that my father was in D-Day and that I watched the t.v. series Combat when I was a kid. Bobby was pretty impressed with the fact that my father was a part of what Tom Brokow named the "The Greatest Generation."
"I gotta' find my girlfriend now. Thanks for your help." I watched Bobby push himself up a small hill and wondered if he felt that his sacrifice and loss was worth it in the end. I didn't get to ask him but I did ask another maimed Army vet.
Tom was gathered by Tavern On The Green drinking pop and shooting the breeze with several of his friends and fellow disabled vets. He had a carbon leg in place of his left leg. I think that the science and technology is fascinating and I asked him how he liked the carbon fiber. "Well, I can't run on it yet. I used my chair today but I'm getting used to it."
"I'm sorry." I said referring to his leg.
"Don't be, I do it again in a heart beat. I helped my buddy."
"How is your buddy?"
Well, he's been in the hospital for a year and a half but he'll get out eventually."
Tom told me that he had trained to be on a special unit and that he would not be "allowed" to return to the work that he loves so much due to his amputation. "I'll probably get a desk job.
"I'm sorry."
"Hey, I told ya' don't be. I love my country and I'm doing something to protect it."
After we parted I made my way home feeling very sad and...well, just sad. I saw so many 'kids' without arms and legs. Some of them lost all four limbs and it was heart breaking. No matter what your politics are it's just plain heartbreaking.
Dale Layne came to New York City from his home in Guyana, South America to find a treatment for his congenital glaucoma. He found a treatment but not a cure and at age nineteen lost most of his sight. Today, Dale is twenty-seven and his eyesight has not improved. He’s blind and is among the approximate 21.2 million people who reported experiencing vision loss in the 2006 National Health Interview Survey. (Link)
