Confidently cruising through the course at the Chicago marathon, Sandra Dailey was on pace to qualify for the Boston marathon, a goal that she had been working towards for nearly a decade. Suddenly, and without warning at mile 25, her arms seized up. As a competitive wheelchair athlete, this was mission critical.
“It was like someone was holding them,” Dailey recalled. After what felt like an eternity, her arms finally turned over, but it was too late. She missed qualifying for Boston by only a few minutes. This was October of 2012.
The following year, Dailey was watching the Boston marathon on TV. Dailey recanted that when the first bomb went off, there was a person being pushed in adaptive equipment directly across the street from the explosion. She recognized him because she had raced with them before. They had similar paces and would often finish together.
She said, “If I had qualified, I would have been right there when it went off.” She believes her arms stopped working that day for a reason. Lost in thought, she mentioned that they never did that again.
A Life Before this One
Dailey was always active, but not athletic. She liked to paint, lay floors, clean the gutters and putter. She dabbled in racquetball but says, “I couldn’t even run to the mailbox.”
One afternoon, while up on a ladder cleaning the siding of her house, she fell two stories landing directly onto cinder blocks below. She shattered her vertebrae. She couldn’t feel her legs and by the look on the EMT’s face, she knew something catastrophic had happened. At 47 years old, she was paralyzed from the waist down.
Recovery was not easy. Not able to sit up on her own. She was bedriden, imobile and depressed. Thinking back to her days in the hospital, she said, “I felt like a blob. I did not want to live.”
Starting down the path of rehabilitation, she slowly worked towards regaining mobility. She spent time in the pool with aquatics therapy. Her swim coach was also a running coach and introduced her to the track and the concept of wheelchair training.
When she started, she couldn’t make it once around the track without stopping. Her neck would hurt and her arms were sore. But she kept pushing and slowly saw incremental changes. The pain subsided and she was covering more and more distance.
“After a traumatic event you’re like a baby again. You have to relearn all those things you were able to do,” said Dailey. It wasn’t easy, but she was making progress and enjoyed her time on the track.
There was a shift in her mindset, her inner dialogue changed from, “I don’t want to live,” to, “this is fun!”