Some things I’ll never forget. Like the day we had the senior barbecue out at the pool in high school. It was 19 years ago this Sunday and I remember the details like it was yesterday. For me, it’s the day I use as the primary reference point in my life. Everything I’ve done was either before or after November 7, 1991 — the day I broke my neck.
I was a senior in high school and it was homecoming week. The school had a function called the senior barbecue. If you paid a small fee, you got to get out of fifth period and go for the lunch. That was a no-brainer. I had PE fifth period and I hated P.E. My teacher, Ms. Rubestick, hated me because I was such a slacker. She’d always catch me cheating on the mile test. We had to complete it in 8:30, but I couldn’t hack it. So I’d run the first lap, walk the second, then run the third as if I was completing it. Sometimes, I pulled it off. Sometimes, she’d catch me and make me finish it up while the rest of the class sat there, cooling down, watching me.
November 7 was a Thursday and Thursdays are when we ran the mile. Why wouldn’t I pay to get out of running it and eat chicken instead? I told her with a grin on Wednesday that I’d be missing class — and the mile! — for the barbecue. She was annoyed by my gloating and told me that I’d better have proof I went. That would definitely end up not being a problem.
I went and sat with my friends, eating my lunch. After a little while, lots of folks started getting in the pool. I didn’t, because I felt uncomfortable with my body to take my shirt off in front of all my classmates. I used a sixth-period (after lunch) presentation I had as an excuse. While others were in the pool, I went to move my car to a better parking spot, then went through the lunch line to buy a Dr. Pepper. For whatever reason, I made a life-altering decision to walk back over to the pool to ask a friend of mine if he wanted to use a towel I’d brought to school that day.
Before leaving for school, I was thinking about going in the pool. But I chickened out and didn’t. I had a clean towel from home in my P.E. locker, though, so, I went to ask my friend if he needed it. I saw him, but couldn’t get his attention. It all happened really quick, but I saw a guy I knew, who was really a pretty nice guy, looking at me with a grin on his face, like he wanted to push me in the pool. I instantly tried to run the six feet to the pool so I could go in under my own control.
The next thing I know, I hit my head on the bottom of the pool, 3 1/2 feet deep. There’s about three seconds in the middle I don’t remember, but apparently, I got thrown in the pool. There was a guy on each arm, a guy on each leg and a guy on my back. They didn’t mean to hurt me. I hold no animosity towards them. They were just trying to have fun. To this day, I only know who two of the five were.
It doesn’t matter at this point, though. I wasn’t paralyzed, thank God. And I mean that — I don’t just say that as a cliché. I was spared. My C-7 broke. It compressed, fractured and chipped. I also got a pretty severe concussion from hitting my head so hard. Nearly 19 years later, my neck still hurts every day, although I don’t really worry about it. That’s just life. That’s the bad part.
The good part is that I have the use of my legs. I celebrate November 7 as a birthday for my legs. It’s a bigger deal to me than my actual birthday. I get emotional throughout the day, because I think back to what could have been. I could have so easily been paralyzed. If I was, I might well have drowned in the bottom of that pool.
I certainly never would have met or married Tiff. There would be no Ben, Jack and Ava. I’d be in a wheelchair in a home somewhere, using a mouthstick to get around. My legs never did anything special — they couldn’t even get me through the mile. But they were spared and I’ve always been grateful for that.
So I celebrate at 1:05 p.m. every year with a lunch at McDonald’s. That’s what time I went in the pool, and that’s what my dad always brought me in the hospital. Chicken McNuggets with barbecue sauce, large fries, a large coke and a hot fudge sundae with nuts. My dad brought me burgers, but I have the chicken nuggets with barbecue sauce because I had barbecue chicken for lunch that day. I couldn’t have caffeine or chocolate for a year, so when I had my first McDonalds meal on the first anniversary, I added those on as a treat. I was sick of Sprite!
November 7 is a big day for me. It’s the day my legs were spared. 15 years to the day after the swimming pool accident, we had an appointment at a pediatric neurologist with Jack. We weren’t surprised at the result of that visit — a diagnosis of severe autism for our middle child — but we were sad to hear it confirmed. The doctor told us Jack was so totally in his own world, we could leave him in that room we were in for 48 hours and he wouldn’t even know we were gone.
It was such a hard thing to hear as parents. Tiff was sobbing uncontrollably. I’m more of an inward person, but I found it really hard to come to terms with the fact that my own 3-year-old possibly didn’t even know I was his dad. He knows who I am now. I think that’s been the case for at least two years or so. But up until a couple of years ago, I wasn’t really sure that we were more than just moving trees in his world.
So with our November 7s and my recent success using my legs running, I knew I had to figure out a way to take my marathoning and make a difference in the autism world. If you’ve never been here before, I’m attempting to run 61 marathons this year to raise money for a charity I’m a part of called Train 4 Autism. I named my endeavor Operation Jack after my little superstar.
This weekend, I’m running marathon No. 53 of the year in Fresno, Calif. — the Eye Q Two Cities Marathon. First, I’m going to go to my oldest son Benjamin’s soccer game on Saturday morning before driving up with my brother. After the race on Sunday, I’ll be driving back to make it home just in time for my daughter Ava’s birthday party. She turns 5 today.
It’s going to be a great weekend. Lucky me —I was thisclose to spending it in a wheelchair somewhere. But I’ll get to spend it with my wife and children and I’ll run a marathon. Little did I know when I woke up on November 7, 1991 that it would be one of the best days of my life.
Jay @Tri2Thrive says
God bless you, your family, and your wonderful life! Thank you for sharing this.
Christina Lee says
Happy birthday, Ava!
Your story is so moving! I am in awe that you’re able to see the good through your obstacles. I’ve been feeling blessed and lucky but now am THAT much more grateful of everything I have.
Thanks Sam!
Megan Storms says
So inspiring! I’ll hope to see you on course on Sunday! Enjoy!
Karen @rnrgirl says
Thanks so much for sharing your story. Life is full of obstacles, but you are managing them with grace and passion! Have a fantastic birthday on Sunday, and a great race!
Jen Morgan says
Dang it Sam stop making me cry with your posts! Happy Legs-iversary and Happy Birthday to Miss Ava! Have a joyous weekend using those legs and celebrating success in life, love and happiness!
Brandon Wood says
That’s an awesome story Sam, and certainly a great reason to celebrate November 7th every year! I think it’s great that you’re able to look back at it all in such a positive light, and to not hold any animosity towards the guys that threw you in the pool that day.
Keep doing what you do best, you’re a huge inspiration as always! Hopefully I’ll catch up with you again in Vegas.
mac smith says
Sam. You inspire me to be better than I am. Sitting in Starbucks, after my run, waiting to pick up a babysitter and pretty much crying right now. You’re a stud and a badass dad. Can’t wait to meet you in december. Mac
Alicia Verburg says
Wow. Amazing story. Thanks for sharing. Love how you turned this anniversary into something positive!
Donna D says
I’ll be thinking of you on Sunday Sam – we often have roast chicken on Sundays (sorry not nuggets!) and this weekend I’ll raise a toast to you at dinner.
Audrey Price says
That is an incredible story. God had a plan for you, Sam, and I strongly believe you are living that plan.
Layla Bohm says
Beautiful post, Sam. Thank you for the reminder that while sometimes life throws icky stuff at us, each day is still there to be lived. Rather than throw a pity party for myself, I should be thankful for what I do have.
Megan Hall says
Hi Sam,
I just found your blog (via facebook), and what an inspiration you and your family are. I’m so sorry to hear about your son Jack’s autism, but I am so very impressed with your efforts to raise money for such a great cause – and am even more impressed with the way you are doing it!
I’m embarrassed to admit I was at that senior barbeque (ETHS Class of 92, right? Unless I am mistaken, please correct me) and I don’t remember your injury, but I’m glad it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.
I’m just starting my training for a triathlon with Team in Training, and on the days I am feeling unmotivated I’m going to come back to your blog and Operation Jack.
Best of luck to you and your family!