FINISH LINE
Talkin’ Bout a Revolution BY BILL MCCOLLOM
Street. A trial run on the lower elevations of Kilimanjaro a year ago left Wad-
dell’s considerable confidence in shambles. “This mountain was kicking my
ass,” said Waddell. “I wasn’t ready for it.”
EARLY THIS YEAR, when I heard that Chris Waddell was planning to
climb Mount Kilimanjaro, I thought that this must be some bizarre web-driven rumor. Mt. Kilimanjaro is the world’s largest freestanding mountain,
an inhospitable pile of rock and lava rubble, soaring 19,340 feet above the
plains of Tanzania. Though many thousands of climbers have scrambled to
the summit, Waddell would have to make the climb in a four-wheel, all-ter-rain cycle, powered entirely by arm strength. Waddell has been paralyzed
from the waist down since 1988 when he was injured in a skiing accident
while a student at Middlebury College. Not being able to come close to conceiving of how such a feat was physically possible, I feared that Waddell was
embarking on a suicide mission.
The solution, of course, was to get ready for it. He lightened his hand-driv-en vehicle, dubbed “Bomba” (meaning cooler than cool in a loose Swahili
translation) by nearly half to 48 pounds, and amped up his training with two
and a half hour laps up and down Deer Valley. By the time September rolled
around, the climb seemed to be moving ahead on its own inertia, and there
was no turning back.
On second thought, I guess I shouldn’t have expected
anything less from Waddell. Ever since his accident,
he has been busy obliterating all preconceptions
of what a paraplegic can and can’t do. As a
result, he has become the most decorated
male ski racer in Paralympic history
with 12 medals over four Games, and
he even took an excursion into track
and field where he won a Paralympic silver medal in the 200-
meter race in the 2000 Games
in Sydney. To even further
pad his résumé, he was voted
one of the 50 most “
beautiful people” in the world by
Since five days is all that is allocated for most able-bodied climbers to reach
the summit, Waddell and his team decided that five days it would be. Like
the tortoise in the race with the hare, it was slow but steady going. Using
all 27 gears, over rocks, across ravines and up steep inclines, where
Waddell would haul himself and “Bomba” up on a winch,
each day would end in exhaustion, only to start all
over again in the morning. Wooden planks were
placed over a few impossibly rough sections,
but Waddell provided the arm-power to
cover every inch of the climb.
People magazine in 1998. He
may cringe at the mention of
People magazine, but he hasn’t
been shy about being an ardent
and articulate spokesman for
the disabled community.
I had met Waddell on several occasions over the years while covering
some World Cup adaptive ski racing
events. So when I met up with Waddell
at Middlebury College on September 12 for
the Kelly Brush Ride (a fund raising event for
her foundation, which is dedicated to making ski
racing safer), I couldn’t help but ask him: “Kilimanjaro?
“The physical part is exhausting,
but the mental part is a whole lot
more exhausting,” said Waddell.
“You’re thinking in five-foot increments, constantly solving
problems much like a combination of trials bike riding and
rock climbing. The only thing
you can think about is one
revolution [of the hand cy-cle], then stop and catch your
breath.” But after five days and
about 528,000 revolutions, on
September 30 — two days after his 41st birthday — Waddell
finally awoke from his trance, jolted back to reality by the view from
19,340 feet. It was then that he realized that this was not the end, but more
of a continuation of what he had set out to
achieve — changing perceptions, something
he had been striving for since 1988, the year of his
accident.
What are you thinking of?”
Waddell laughed and said: “I guess I like the symbolism of it all. You know,
the mountain, the challenge, overcoming obstacles — that kind of thing.”
“Well, you could have gone with something smaller — something like Chip-man Hill, here in Middlebury,” I said.
“It wouldn’t quite be the same now, would it?” said Waddell with a wry grin.
Since retiring from competition five years ago, Waddell has continued to seek
individual challenges, but for this event, he has a larger objective in mind. “I
hope this climb will create social change in the way we all look at ourselves
and others,” said Waddell. “We’re still viewed as if we’re separate, but we all
share shortcomings; only, some are more visible than others.”
Being paralyzed for half of his lifetime has provided Waddell
with no shortage of perspective. “Without the accident I highly doubt I’d be
the best in the world in anything, wouldn’t have met presidents, traveled
extensively, and be able to turn my passions into something I could share
with the world,” said Waddell. “I didn’t ask to join this group. But sometimes
what we are supposed to do, finds us. Hardship will find all of us at one point
or another, but what happens to us isn’t as significant as what we choose to
do with it.”
No part of the planning or execution of the climb was a roll down Easy
Waddell’s choice of name for his web site, “One Revolution,” provides a clue
to his message that is still reverberating from the summit of Kilimanjaro:
“One revolution, one hand-cycle revolution, one earth’s turn, one lifetime,
one opportunity, one moment, one chance, one (revolutionary) change.”
“This is all about committing to living life to the fullest,” said Waddell. “Who
knows where the journey may take us?”
