Accomplishing a lot
It seems absurd, but climbing Mount Kilimanjaro isn't considered an earth-shattering accomplishment anymore. You might impress people by tossing the feat into cocktail-party conversation, but you'll still be just one of tens of thousands who make it to the summit every year.
But not many people have conquered Kilimanjaro on one leg. And when you narrow that down to the number of one-legged climbers who make it to the top after one of their crutches snaps in half along the way, Sarah Doherty is in a pretty exclusive club.
It's one that takes a mixture of guts, conviction and stubbornness to join, and the 49-year-old has all of those.
"I just knew I was going to summit," says Doherty, who took on Africa's highest peak this past January with three able-bodied climbers, including her partner and her twin sister. "It wasn't about being cocky — I felt strong, I felt focused. I had done all my homework and I was ready."
Positive attitude
That attitude has carried Doherty not just to the top of Kilimanjaro, but over almost every obstacle she has encountered since she lost her right leg at age 13. She was cycling to a friend's house at dusk in her hometown of Taunton, Mass., when she was struck by a drunk driver. The impact tore off her leg at the hip and destroyed half her pelvis. She almost bled to death before the ambulance arrived.
Along with the devastating physical injuries, the accident changed the way Doherty saw herself. She had been an active teenager who excelled in athletics; she was on the school swim team and was set to compete in a track meet the day after she lost her leg. As one of nine children, she also shouldered her share of family responsibilities, such as working at her parents' grocery store and helping to care for her youngest brother, Bill, who is profoundly cognitively impaired.
"I lost those roles and some of my independence," says Doherty, who now lives in Roberts Creek on British Columbia's Sunshine Coast. "But I had a family with a ‘get on with it' attitude." She got sympathy and support from her friends and family, but no coddling. If she wanted to hang out with her high school friends, who were used to rambling from one end of town to the other, she'd have to learn how to keep up.
"We were always adapting things," she says. "We put nails in the tips of my crutches so I wouldn't slide in the snow." After the accident, Doherty learned to ski through the New England Handicapped Sports Association — which led to a spot on the U.S. Disabled Ski Team — and she created straps for her backpack so she could carry her own skis. Rather than thinking, I can't do that, she asked herself, "How do I find a way to do that?"
