June Crawford (STAT '82) sports a great smile, calves that could encase softballs, and nail polish that perfectly matches the purple finish of her Italian racing bike.
What you don't notice for hours, perhaps days, is that this strong, competent Olympic hopeful has no use of her left arm. Arms, as any road cyclist knows, are great for balance, turns, and pulling up while climbing hills.
Crawford, who rides a bike modified with right-hand controls, is vying for a spot on the U.S. Disabled Cycling Team for the Paralympic Summer Games Aug. 15-25 in Atlanta. A strong rider by any standards, she sits squarely in third place in the race points used to determine the Paralympians. If she finishes third or better in the June Paralympic Trials in Trexlertown, Pa., she'll be among the approximately 3,500 Paralympic athletes from 127 countries competing in Atlanta.
If she does, she'll be the only U.S. bicycling team member wearing purple nail polish; all the rest of the "arm guys," as she affectionately calls her category mates, are men.
"June's one of our strongest riders, male or female," says Dave Grevemberg, competitions manager for Disabled Sports USA. "She's almost definitely going to the Paralympics."
Grevemberg isn't the only one who thinks so. On April 30, Crawford was one of 35 athletes (six disabled athletes) honored as Olympic likelies at the White House. After talking to at-risk schoolchildren, she sat down to a black-tie dinner with Al Gore and the Clintons. "She was chosen because she's our top female cyclist and a real role model as well," says Grevemberg.
Crawford's first goal is to compete in the 1996 Paralympics, where former Superman Christopher Reeve will be master of ceremonies. Her long-term goal is to get a women's team ready for the games in Sydney, Australia, in the year 2000. By then, she will be 47 years old.
Crawford, who ran and paddled canoes in between studies at Virginia Tech (she also took leave to work for a few years), became an elite bicyclist only after a car accident severed her brachial plexis nerves. She was driving to her statistician job at the Central Maine Power Co. in 1988 when she hit a patch of ice and skidded into a truck. Crawford survived with two broken arms, a broken jaw, and a crushed foot. "Thank God I was wearing my seat belt," she says.
When the plaster came off, Crawford still couldn't use her left arm and had limited control of her left hand. "It was a long, hard summer watching my husband compete in canoe races," she says.
Her physical therapist had other ideas. "He told me about a New England bike racer who had his left arm amputated and was beating the pants off everybody. His name was Jim Henry, and he became my inspiration," says Crawford. "Now he's one of my competitors for the Olympics."
And stiff competition he is. Henry took medals at the Seoul and Barcelona Paralympic events and is doing well in trials this year for both disabled and able-bodied athletes. Still, Crawford beat him in one important time-trial event.
"No matter how things end up, the United States should have a super team in the LC-1 division (arm disabled). We should get some medals," she says.
Competing against men, who have a natural advantage in muscular strength, challenges Crawford. In December, she persuaded the Hitchcock Rehabilitation Center in her Aiken, S.C., home to sponsor her Paralympic bid by providing strength training through their public Fitness for Life program. During a work-out, she discovered that her program was supervised by a fellow Virginia Tech alumna, Kara Boyer Flanders (PHED '91), director of Fitness for Life.
"June is an inspiration; she definitely influences our other clients," Flanders says. "And she's really noticed some changes in her overall strength, even for the small amount of muscle she still has on her left side."
In fact, Crawford was delighted to find she had gained three pounds of muscle and lost four pounds of fat during the program. Her body fat, 18.2 percent, is low for a woman.
In March, Crawford began racing every weekend and slacked off on the strength training. Repairing the small muscle tears made when lifting and pressing takes energy needed for racing, so she now keeps in shape through training rides.
Crawford's itinerary lurches around the South like a campaigning politician - Austin (Texas), Greenville (S.C.), two locations in Tennessee, Raleigh, Houston, Atlanta, Augusta, and a jaunt to Santa Rosa, Calif., with time out for a dinner at the White House.
It's fun, she says. Crawford says this a lot; her buoyancy lifts those around her. She's especially fond of congregating with other disabled athletes. In Austin, they all camped out at the home of a teammate, sharing the humor and insights that only disabled athletes have in common. "We had two Steves, so we called one Steve Arm (for his missing arm, and hence, his racing category) and one Steve Leg (for his missing leg)." The gathering also included Bob Leg and Bob Tail, a dog.
"We share how we adapt in the able-bodied world," Crawford says. "One of my teammates showed me and an arm amputee how to tie our shoes in a way that doesn't look so stupid. They are the greatest guys in the world. It seems like you lose a body part, and you must gain something in your heart and head."
Still, Crawford doesn't forget that she's competing against these guys for a spot she wants badly. "And I'm certainly not going to give it to them," she says.
"You can win easily," a friend joked. "Just ride in the testosterone vacuum, let the guys wear themselves out, and sprint around at the end to win."
Road bikers, who ride in packs like flying geese, do use this strategy. The slip-stream directly behind a speeding cyclist reduces wind resistance and makes riding easier for a following cyclist. Riders who get "blown off the back" of the pack early in a race find it difficult to make up this advantage. Crawford usually does well in regional able-bodied races, but in a March 60-miler against Olympic cyclist Phyllis Hines she experienced the frustration of losing the pack. "The hills kill me," she says. Even so, she maintained a solid 22 mph over challenging topography.
Crawford began racing in 1990, but set her sights on the Paralympics only after she had a mastectomy in 1993. "I needed a goal," she says.
For the past year, Crawford has been on leave from her home-based statistical consulting business so she can focus single-mindedly on training. Her husband Jay Noonkester, a Blacksburg native, works as an environmental engineer at a closed nuclear power project nearby. The garage of their ranch home is filled with bicycles and bicycle paraphernalia, while the cars sit outside. Even so, Crawford's racing bicycle, Tiger, has a place of honor in the dining room.
Crawford is thinking about the Paralympics, only a season and two more qualifying races away. She repeats what she said when she was invited to the White House. "It will be fun!" Big smile. You have no doubt that she means it. "No matter what happens, it will be fun."