Walking Is So Overrated

When I was six years old, the Dallas cowboys made it to the Superbowl. I remember the excitement on the faces of the players, the fans and my family. When we won, everyone was crying, screaming and jumping with joy. At that instant, similar to other boys my age, I knew I wanted to be a professional football player.

The next instant I remembered, that unlike most boys my age, I was born with Cerebral Palsy. The great irony of my life: I was given the heart and soul of a competitive athlete, but the body of, well, not an athlete.

Athletes are stubborn, and I refused to give up. After several years of careful investigation, I found my answer: soccer. I could be a goalie! It was perfect. All I had to do was stand there, let the ball bounce off me, and the crowd goes wild! Hoping for a miracle, I tried out for my school’s soccer team in the sixth grade. The coach sent six shots my way, but instead of stopping them, I found myself playing dodge ball. No miracles that day.

After a while, I stopped watching and playing soccer, but I did not give up. For the next three years, my birthday wish was the same: I want to walk, I want to run, I want to be normal. High school was tough. I heard the whispers in the halls: “Is he retarded?” “Is he special ed?” “Is he contagious?” Teachers whispered among themselves and gave me easier assignments. I wanted to scream, “Hello! It is just my body — there is nothing wrong with my mind!”

I did not know it then, but I came to realize that, in fact, that was the answer. There is nothing wrong with my mind.

My English teacher recruited me to participate in Academic Decathlon. I was hesitant at first, but I joined. We had spring practice, summer practice, before school practice, after school practice, Saturday practice, competition extra practice. During that time, the muscle between my ears was growing. I loved my teammates. I loved beating our competitors. The first year, I made to districts, but unfortunately, I came in last place and was cut from the team. It was challenging, my team captain came up to me afterwards and said, “Hechale ganas — have courage. See you for practice in the spring.” That was the last time I ever came in last place.

Senior year came quickly — time flies when you are winning medals! That year, I was a team captain. I remember the first competition, the excitement on the faces of my team at the award ceremony. When we won, everyone was crying, screaming and jumping with joy. At that instant, I knew I was more than an athlete. I was a decathlete. My teammates gathered around me and lifted me into the air. As I rode to the stage high on their shoulders, I smiled and thought to myself, walking is so overrated anyhow.