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ChiCkN
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Name: Amy "Yolanda"
Birthday: 3/16/1985
Gender: Female
Interests: regulating 6th graders, flipping through the pages of smart money, fully understanding the avant-garde, experimenting with performance art, listening to TRY by Nelly Furtado at 8 am, mastering the art of dragonboating, and just lovin' life
Expertise: I am a both an impressionist and expressionist.
Occupation: Retired
Industry: Art
Message: message me
Member Since:
10/6/2003
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One of the most inspirational stories I've ever read. If you don't like reading it's on youtube.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ryCTIigaloQ
[From Sports Illustrated, By Rick Reilly]
I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay
for their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots.
Compared with Dick Hoyt, I fail.
Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in
marathons. Eight times he's not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a
wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and
pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars--all in the same day.
Dick's also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back
mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. on a bike. Makes
taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?
And what has Rick done for his father? Not much--except save his life.
This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when Rick
was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him
brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs.
``He'll be a vegetable the rest of his life;'' Dick says doctors told
him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. ``Put him in an
institution'
But the Hoyts weren't buying it. They noticed the way Rick's eyes
followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the
engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was
anything to help the boy communicate. ``No way,'' Dick says he was
told. ``There's nothing going on in his brain'
"Tell him a joke,'' Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out
a lot was going on in his brain.
Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by
touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to
communicate. First words? ``Go Bruins!'' And after a high school
classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a
charity run for him, Rick pecked out, ``Dad, I want to do that.''
Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described ``porker'' who never ran
more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still,
he tried. ``Then it was me who was handicapped,'' Dick says. ``I was
sore for two weeks.''
That day changed Rick's life. ``Dad,'' he typed, ``when we were
running, it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!''
And that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving
Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon.
``No way,'' Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't quite
a single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. For a
few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway,
then they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they
ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston
the following year.
Then somebody said, ``Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?''
How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since
he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still,
Dick tried.
Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour
Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud
getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't you
think?
Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your own? ``No way,'' he says.
Dick does it purely for ``the awesome feeling'' he gets seeing Rick
with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.
This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston
Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their
best time'? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992--only 35 minutes off the
world record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things,
happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a
wheelchair at the time.
``No question about it,'' Rick types. ``My dad is the Father of the
Century.''
And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had
a mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his
arteries was 95% clogged. ``If you hadn't been in such great shape,''
one doctor told him, ``you probably would've died 15 years ago.''
So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's life.
Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in
Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland,
Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the
country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend,
including this Father's Day.
That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really
wants to give him is a gift he can never buy.
``The thing I'd most like,'' Rick types, ``is that my dad sit in the
chair and I push him once.'' | | |
| thank you yumyumstrawberries for bringing it to my attention that my last three posts consisted of birthday shout-outs. :oP
i graduate in a year. and like many in the others, i feel unprepared for the real world. i am a coward, so i decided to apply for graduate school. likelihood of acceptance doesn't look so hot, but the worst that can happen is i work instead. ouch. i've tried working... full-time in fact, and it's really not that appealing. haha
currently studying for the gre's. i feel like i'm in high school all over again, except dumber. YES, DUMBER. i don't have a clue in how to find the area of an isosceles triangle nor do i know the meaning of abject. but i can tell you all about the german expressionism, globalization of china, the difference between rapport and report, and the LA public school system involving exceptional learners. i think the states need to adopt europe's system (or italy at least) of oral exams.
*abject: (of a situation or condition) extremely bad.
you're telling me.... | | |
| happy birthday rosanna. <3 | | |
| happy birthday my july babies-- jules, janelle, phi phi, sam, jon! <3 | | |
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