Play like a Paralympian
How do you play hockey without ice skates? What does it feel like to sit-ski? How does a blind biathlete shoot the targets? How to you aim stones in wheelchair curling? While I’ve been attempting to answer these questions throughout my Paralympic dispatches as a spectator of the games, beyond simply watching the athletes compete, each venue includes a “Play Like a Paralympian” area whereby the public can try out Paralympic sports equipment and learn in a hands-on manner what skills disabled athletes develop to succeed in their given discipline. Both adults and children are encouraged to participate in these interactive spaces, and line-ups to try out sledges and sit-skis and wheelchair curling are steady throughout the day.
At Whistler, I sat in a mono-ski, the type of ski used by most alpine athletes in the “sitting” categories (those who have injuries or disabilities affected their lower bodies). While I was already amazed by the speeds these skiers execute (sometimes faster than able-bodied Olympians because their weight is so close to the ground), the turning skills required to negotiate downhill and slalom gates, and the way the ski acts as a spring on bumps propelling the athlete through the air, I had no concept of the immense strength required to balance the mono-ski on a flat, let alone a steep downhill, surface, until I was placed in one and would have toppled over if not for the kind woman explaining the equipment to me. The skier must have incredible core strength and acute balancing skills, as those are the only factors holder the skier upright. And the skier is rarely upright during alpine—he/she is always turning—which means that the skier is always in danger of falling over if not for this balance and use of poles. When you see a skier fall, the volunteer told me, now you know what strength it takes for the athlete to push the ski back up and continue down the hill. I couldn’t even get out of the mono-ski by myself. (And I’m glad no one wanted to blindfold me and send me down the slopes to teach me about visually-impaired alpine skiing.)
The sledge hockey equipment available is adjusted to a “floor hockey” version—sledges and the hockey sticks with wheels instead of blades and picks—since ice rinks are not available for demonstrations. But hockey is hockey, and Canadians won’t give up the chance to play hockey whenever the opportunity arises, so the space dedicated to instructing would-be sledge hockey players (able-bodied or not) is usually the most popular at each venue. The volunteers even set-up mini sledge races and two-minute matches for the children. Again, you recognize the arm strength required to propel yourself down the ice. And since sledge hockey teams have fewer players than stand-up hockey, you are propelling yourself down the ice a lot. (This is why sledge hockey periods are fifteen minutes rather than twenty.)
You can try out a laser rifle used by visually-impaired biathletes, a cross-country sit-ski, and the sticks used to slide stones across the ice in wheelchair curling. (I learned wheelchair curling is even more technical than conventional curling because there are no sweepers to help navigate the stones.) It confirmed to me what I’ve been thinking throughout the Paralympics: familiarity builds interest and excitement. The children love the equipment. The adults are fascinated by the technological developments. I love learning the rules of the games and the skills the athletes need to develop to excel at each sport. You just need the opportunity and exposure to trigger the rest.
Sports are, at their core, the triumph over restrictions. In Paralympic sports, human ingenuity and creativity is showcased in amazing ways. Weekday stands are packed with schoolchildren—there’s a great initiative to bring entire grades and schools of children to the games to learn about sports, disability, and international culture, and of course none could afford to do so during the Olympic games—and it’s great to hear them cheer as loudly for Paralympic athletes as they would for any other athlete, and to screech with delight as they try out the equipment.
(Today’s poem relates to a group of schoolchildren attending the sledge hockey 7th and 8th place game: Sweden vs Norway. One boy was waving a flag with Sweden on one side and Italy on the other, and I stole little bits of overheard conversation to construct this poem.)
