Paralympic Gold Medalist, Eagan Grad Begins Campaign to Walk Again

On Aug. 20, 2009, Mallory Weggemann made a resolution. On that day, one of her deepest fears came true: Less than two years had gone by since she became paraplegic, but she'd already forgotten what it feels like to take a single step, to stand on her own two feet.

"That feeling is rapidly slipping out of my hands and it feels as though I can’t hold onto it tight enough," Weggemann wrote in her journal. "I worry what happens if I can’t remember it? Will I ever be able to walk again if I lose that memory?" 

That day, she made a promise: Somehow, some way she would walk again, even though her doctors told her she would never regain function in her legs.

Jan. 21, 2008

Several dates are indelibly seared into Weggemann's mind. Jan. 21, 2008 is arguably the most important. In any case, it is where this story truly begins. On that day, she walked into a clinic for a routine procedure—an epidural to alleviate residual pain from a bout with shingles—and she never walked out. After two hours, the numbness from the epidural hadn't worn off. Two hours turned into four, then six, then eight.

"I never regained feeling. It ended in me being admitted to the hospital that night and being released six weeks later in a chair," Weggemann recalled. 

At 18, she was completely paralyzed from the waist down. Five year later, the exact cause of her paralysis remains a mystery.

"We don't know. One of the main thoughts is that the needle went through the epidural space and into the spinal cord and the medicine leaked in," Weggemann said.

It was a heavy blow for the recent high school graduate, who had been an athlete almost all of her young life. She'd been a competitive swimmer since she was seven years old. As student at Eagan High, she swam on the varsity team for four years in a row, ending her high school career as captain.

"I didn't understand it at first. I kept thinking that it would wear off and I'd be fine," Weggemann said. "It was why me, what if, what if I'd canceled the appointment. I felt confusion, frustration, fear—pretty much any emotion you can imagine."

"As time went on I realized I was too young to just be sad and depressed. There was still so much life to live," Weggemann continued. "I tried to find the positive and tried to do the things I loved before." 

In April of 2008 she got back into the water for the first time. After much prodding from her sister, Weggemann went to the pool at the University of Minnesota, which was hosting trials for the Paralympic Games in Beijing. After the last session ended, she tentatively made her way into the pool.

For the first time in her life, Weggemann was afraid of the water, but as she floated lightly in the clear blue pool her anxiety quickly became exhilaration. 

"I truly believe that swimming saved me—mentally, psychologically, emotionally. The pool was my home my entire life before my paralysis and I found a home again in it afterward," Weggemann said. "I was out of my chair and moving about free. In a lot of ways (the chair) felt like prison to me but the water gave me that freedom, to be able to forget the fact that I was paralyzed." 

Sept. 2, 2012

Weggemann was in the ready room at the London Paralympic games, blasting "I'm a Go Getta" by Lil Wayne and staring down what seemed to be a sure defeat at a key event, the 50-meter freestyle. At the last minute, the International Paralympic Committee reclassed Weggemann. The IPC system divides swimmers into 10 different classes, ranging from one to 10, with one being the most disabled and 10 being the least. Weggemann had always competed as a seven. The IPC decided she was an eight, which meant that she would be vying with swimmers who could use their legs. 

"I was the only individual in my class who couldn't walk. They were all jumping up and down, stretching their legs," Weggemann said. "I learned that if I looked at the competition I'd get frustrated, so I put my headphones on and put my head in my hands."

The swimmers were called to the blocks. Her competitors lined up, toes to the edge, ready to dive. Weggemann curled into a sitting position and readied for the plunge. At the start, she rocked forward and used her arms to throw her body into the water. 

At the 25-meter mark she turned to catch a breath and saw the world record holder's toes. 

"That meant that she was a full body length ahead of me and in a 50-meter that's a lot of space. In that instant it flipped," Weggemann said. "I shut my mind off and didn't breathe until I hit the wall."

Against all odds, she'd taken the gold. Weggemann bested the world record holder by three-tenths of a second. 

TBD

One day, sometime soon, Weggemann will walk again. Last Thursday, she was casted for leg braces. The custom-made carbon fiber braces will lock her ankles and knees straight and support her hips. Then, with either a walker or forearm crutches, she will use her oblique muscles and core to swing her legs.

"It won't replace my wheelchair by any means but I will be upright and moving and that's a really special thing. I want to see my family and loved ones eye to eye and walk towards them," Weggemann said. "It's something that I was really afraid to think about: I didn't know if it was a possibility for me and I didn't want to get let down. But I've seen what people with disabilities are capable of, and this is something I can do."

To master the swing gait, Weggemann will have to train almost as intensively as she did for the Paralympics—for about three hours a day, five days a week, for a month. She hopes to take her first official steps in November, surrounded by friends and family.

Unfortunately, Mallory Weggemann's health insurance company will not pay for the braces or rehabilitation. To defray the cost, Weggemann has started an online fund drive. Her goal is $50,000. Any surplus will be granted to others like her—paraplegics who may be able to regain mobility with training. To find out more, go to her Indiegogo campaign site.