day 1

I've decided it's a very good thing that I came to London to see the Paralympics, because it turns out there is far superior television coverage here. BT Channel 4, well done.

So as I sit here in my hotel room, watching a soccer match between Great Britain and the U.S.––U.S. not doing so well––let's talk about my experience thus far...


Dad and I arrived in fair shape last night via plane, express train, and lastly, our legs. That was after we walked past the street our hotel was on, asked some German tourists for directions, arrived at our hotel only to find we'd been moved to another, and finally dragged ourselves into bed.

Our bumpy landing notwithstanding, we hit the town this morning with gusto to...the Museum of London, where I learned the Romans called this place Londinium. Is it me, or does that sound like something from the Periodic Table.

We were in the museum for all of half an hour before we were both too tired and hungry to go on. Luckily a Pret a Manger was around the corner. If you don't know, Pret a Manger is like school lunch for grownups, or brown bagging it when you've forgotten your brown bag. Though Dad reminded me more of a kid in a candy store. I've never seen anyone get so excited about a sandwich.

But speaking of sandwiches, riding second level on a double-decker bus, we passed a pub called the Earl of Sandwich. I laughed, thinking it was a joke. Dad informed me that there was actually an earl who made the original sandwich. I didn't know sticking meat between two pieces of bread had to be invented.

I've decided the best thing about being in London right now is that everywhere I go, people think I'm a Paralympic athlete. People seem to smile and stare with a more admiring curiosity. Or maybe I'm imagining it. Either way, it works. I'm actually starting to feel like a celebrity of sorts. After the kind museum docent smiled shyly at me, I almost believed I'd just finished competing in a world class sporting event. The eye of the beholder is no joke.

Now, what sport would I be competing in? Definitely not what I'm watching presently––sitting volleyball. Ah, if only vaulting were a Paralympic event.
Nevermind, it's probably one of the oldest sports in the world.

Right up there with cow-tipping, I'd wager.

Certainly older than the sandwich.

OneArmGirl

the time has come, the time is now

The time has come, the hour is nigh...for me to start losing some of this belly fat. Oh, yes, and the first day of the Paralympics is today.

But while I wait for my departure on a jet plane, I've been feverishly frequenting all the posh used clothing stores within a ten mile radius of my home. And this is not because I love shopping. Far from it. I really detest it, actually.

But I also detest my current wardrobe, which appears to be about twenty seasons old. And it probably is, considering most of it came from pre-owned clothing stores to begin with. It's a vicious cycle.

I was deeply regretting my life choices yesterday when I found myself in the dressing room of one of the aforementioned stores with no less than ten dresses to try on.

Fitting rooms have always been torturous places for me, for reasons like my lack of left arm and twisted torso, making hopeless most attempts to find clothing that suited me.

Now these seem minor details compared to the tummy and love handles I'm having to hurdle. Walking out with two articles of clothing when you've just tried on fifteen leaves one with a grumpy sense of defeat; wondering if 'fitting room' is really the correct nomenclature. Not fitting rooms, more like. Ladies, I know you feel me. Men, if you're still here, just nod sympathetically.

Meanwhile, across the pond, athletes in much better shape than I, have assembled for top competition. I'm just hoping the ridiculously expensive shoes I recently acquired will hold up while I traipse around the city.

And traipsing there will be aplenty, especially if my father has anything to do with it. I spoke with him on the phone yesterday and he was full of ideas for filling up our rather fluid schedule while in London. I think he said something about Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, but I was daydreaming about pubs.

But alas, pubs are now my enemy. Beer, my once good friend, has grown into a caloric monster right before the fitting room mirror.

I've only got two more days to get things ship shape around here, and I don't think that will include my belly, but much more doable things, like laundry. So I'll toast the Paralympians with a scoop of detergent. And London, I'll see you soon.

OneArmGirl
 

sport doesn't care

another day, another horse

So, most of the tickets to Paralympic events are sold out. At least, it appears so according to the web site of the agency through which we Americans are supposed to order.

This strikes me as odd considering the last time I was at the Games, most of the seats were empty. And I suppose that is why I waited so long to make reservations. Leave it to me to procrastinate on the one thing most crucial to visiting the Paralympics, access to the actual Games.

Not all is lost, however. I have ordered two day passes, which afford access to several different sporting events. Unfortunately, none of these are events that I particularly wanted to see. But who knows, I may really love boccia, whatever that is.

Oddly, this oversight is due, in part, to my sudden preoccupation with getting into better physical shape. I'm not sure if it's sympathy training for the actual athletes preparing for competition or if I'm just nesting for the big event, but I've taken to stretching a lot more, taking daily walks, and last night I did some vaulting.

I haven't been on a vaulting horse in several months at least. I decided to visit an adult class with a different club. Why not change everything in my life at once, eh?

But it felt good to be back. The coach, who is about my age, seems excited to take on my unusual physical situation as a challenge. She led me through some much needed back to basics, like not relying on my one arm for strength and balance. 

If you promise not to laugh, I'll give you a little peek into the highly scientific approach she suggested for getting into the 'box' position, or up on all fours on the back of the horse....

OK, you can laugh if you must. Note, I did not show you the clip of me trying this on the actual horse. That was not going well at all until she reminded me to stop relying on my right arm. Then Poof!, I was up before I knew what was going on.

Leave it to me to make something harder than it has to be. Like with most things, I had learned to rely on my right arm so much, I didn't even know that's what I was doing anymore. I was stuck in a brain rut.

I had to mentally let go of my right arm, reconnect with my core, balance, and use the momentum of the horse. And just like that, I was up.

Sometimes I'm astonished at how inept I am at using my own body. What potential we have, and how little we use to get by. Makes me wonder how many other situations in my life I am strong-arming my way through, focusing only on the end result.

No amount of brute force is going to get me into the 2012 Paralympic Games. I'm hoping London will decide to be nice and open up some seats as the days get closer. Poor access to an event promoting the inclusion of persons with disabilities in world class sport is kinda bad PR if you ask me.

But I have to wonder what might happen if I just reconnect with my core, balance, and let the momentum take me...

OneArmGirl   

are you ready?

back in the pony saddle

I would like to preface this post by saying this one-handed-ponytail thing has gotten a lot bigger than I ever anticipated.

Several weeks back, I received an email from a woman who is a certified hand therapist. That title, in and of itself, was certainly enough to peak my interest.

The hand therapist said she had created a one-handed-ponytail device and wondered if I wanted to try it out. Of course, I said yes, and several days later I found it in my mailbox.

It is an elastic hair tie with a wooden bead strung on, knotted at the end to keep the bead from slipping off. After several practice runs on the yarn "hair" that was thoughtfully sent along in the package, I decided to give it a go.

Step 1: With tie in hand, push wooden bead to knotted end and gather hair.

Step 2: Wrap hand around hair and pull hair through tie with thumb, holding tie in place with other fingers.

Step 3: Push wooden bead with two fingers while resisting with thumb at knotted end of the elastic, thus cinching the tail.

Step 4: Repeat pony pull-through...

Tadaa! ponytail.

Firstly, I would like to say that, yes, I do always style my hair out-of-doors; I find it invigorating.

Secondly, I would like to congratulate Sara, the hand therapist, on a very simple design. As you may imagine, this pony-tail-putter-upper can come in various colors and bead types, all easily packed up for on-the-go ponies.

However, I can achieve nearly the same effect with the rubbery hair ties that I bought at Target, and with slightly less effort. That is not to deny that I could practice my technique a bit more, but I think some things need to be addressed.

For example, gathering the hair (especially curly hair) with one hand is not easy to begin with, much less while trying to keep a hair tie from flying off your fingers.

I also found it quite difficult to pull all of my hair through (granted, I have a lot of it) without losing the position of the elastic.

And lastly, I was able to assemble a low pony, but it was difficult to move the pony higher without loosening the tail or creating bumps. My hair (though thick) is also very fine, so it slips easily.

If you've completely lost me at this point, not to worry. I am aware this sort of thing is well beyond the average layperson pony-putter-upper's ability to process. Believe me, I could hardly understand the directions that came with the device.

I've actually decided to submit this article to the International Limb Deficiency Cosmetology Journal. If only there were such a thing.

But kudos to Sara the Hand Therapist for her design. You can check out her web site and order your own pony kit here.

Happy trails...and tails.

OneArmGirl

going

Some time ago, I began to form a plan to attend the London 2012 Paralympic Games.

In the mean time, as one never seems to plan, life happened. At the beginning of this summer, everything was tentative, London 2012 included. I didn't know if I would have a job come Fall, my romantic relationship was on the rocks, and I wish there was a third thing to complete this triad, but in life, that was enough to turn future travel plans into just one spinning plate.

Interviewing fans, Athens 2004

But the plates have come down. Fortunately, I am no longer employed, not romantically attached, and if I had a dog, I'm sure it would be dead. And what does one do when one's life is reduced to a pile of rubble? Travel, of course.

And so, I'm going. London 2012 or bust.

I spent a semester in London when I was in college, and I covered the 2004 Paralympics in Greece as a broadcast journalist, so attending the Paralympics in London seems fitting.

I also experienced two of my worst episodes of illness in London and as a result of working the Paralympics, so I feel attending the London Games will be a small triumph. Of course, if I get sick again, not so much.

But my odds are good. I will not be working this time, aside from promoting OneArmGirl, which tends to happen much more naturally than any other work I've done. Mostly, I will be a spectator. Or, one may say, a writer.

The first time I experienced the Paralympics, it changed my life. And exactly what are the Paralympics you may be wondering halfway through this post? Kudos if you've hung in there.

The Paralympics immediately follow the Olympic Games, thus "para" or alongside the Olympics, and showcase top athletes from around the world with physical disabilities.

The real question is how I ever ended up there, being neither an athlete to speak of nor very much into sports in general. But I'm certainly glad I did. Attending the Athens Games started a journey of self-actualization for me. I've learned that just as I have a 'non-traditional' body type, I am a non-traditional athlete [true, this is mostly because I am into horseback acrobatics and dancing on hanging fabrics].

But that is only the beginning. It could even be argued that this very blog is a result of my coming into contact with the Paralympics.

So, what is the plan? Ha, ha, good one. As has become my custom of late, I have none. What I know is that I have a plane ticket to London at the beginning of September. What happens once I arrive remains to be seen. But I will be sure to keep you abreast of any developments.

OneArmGirl