Olympic runner Rebecca Cheptegei’s horrific death after being doused with petrol and set on fire by her boyfriend has again brought to the fore Kenya’s harrowing history of domestic violence against female athletes.

Her killing follows the deaths of at least two other high-profile female runners in cases of domestic violence in the last three years in a region that has produced dozens of Olympic and world champions.

What happened to Cheptegei?

Cheptegei, who was from Uganda, died on Thursday at age 33. Police say Cheptegei’s boyfriend poured a can of petrol over her and set her on fire during a dispute on Sunday. She suffered 80% burns on her body and died in a hospital in the town of Eldoret four days later.

The boyfriend was also burned in the attack and is being treated at the same hospital. No criminal charges have yet been announced against him.

Cheptegei competed in the women’s marathon at the Paris Olympics less than a month ago, finishing in 44th place. She lived in western Kenya’s famous high-altitude training region that draws the best distance runners from across the world and had recently built a house there to be close to the training centers.

Agnes Tirop

The brutal slaying of Kenyan star runner Tirop in the same region in 2021 led to an outpouring of anger from fellow athletes and prompted the East African country’s athletics authorities to acknowledge the scourge of domestic abuse as a major problem.

Tirop was one of Kenya’s brightest talents when she was stabbed to death at her home in Iten, the other world-renowned distance-running training town in Kenya, alongside Eldoret. Her husband, who was on the run, was arrested days after the killing and has been charged with murder. His court case is still underway.

Like Cheptegei, the 25-year-old Tirop had just competed at an Olympics — the 2021 Tokyo Games — and had set a new world record in the 10-kilometer road race in another competition a month before she was killed. Her body was found with stab wounds to the stomach and neck, as well as blunt trauma injury to her head.

In the weeks after Tirop’s death, current and former male and female athletes, spoke out over what they said was a long-running problem of domestic abuse against female athletes in the region. Some marched through the streets of Iten to demand better protection for female athletes and stricter laws against abusers.

Other Kenyan athletes like Ruth Bosibori, a former African champion in the steeplechase, and Joan Chelimo, a marathon runner, said Tirop’s killing had emboldened them to talk about their own abusive relationships.

Both said they had escaped violent partners that made them fear for their lives.

Damaris Muthee

Just six months after Tirop, another runner was killed. Kenyan-born Muthee, who competed for Bahrain, was found dead in a house in Iten after being strangled. Her decomposing body had been there for days before it was found, authorities said at the time.

A male Ethiopian runner with whom she was in a relationship was charged with murder. Muthee, who was 28, had a young child from another relationship.

The cases of domestic abuse in Kenya’s running community are set against the country’s overriding high rates of violence against women, which has prompted marches by ordinary citizens in towns and cities this year.

Activists say successful female athletes may be especially vulnerable in instances when their partners want to control their money and assets in an impoverished region and the women refuse and push back.

Police said Cheptegei was killed in a dispute with her boyfriend over the land she had just built a house on.

Samuel Wanjiru

One of Kenya’s best male athletes also died in what authorities said was a domestic dispute in 2011. Wanjiru was 24 and at the time the reigning Olympic marathon champion. He fell to his death from a balcony at his home during an argument with his wife.

He had been arrested a year earlier and questioned by police for allegedly threatening to kill his wife with an assault rifle. He denied the allegations.

Although Kenyan authorities ruled Wanjiru died after falling or jumping from the balcony, his family claimed that he was killed.

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AP Africa news: https://apnews.com/hub/africa

The 37-year-old university lecturer from Sydney — her birthday was on Monday — bewildered expert and casual viewers alike in the sport of breaking with an unconventional routine that included mimicking a kangaroo.

Breaking was being contested at an Olympics for the first time . And it might be a one-and-done, not scheduled on the Olympic program for Los Angeles in 2028 or for Brisbane, Australia in 2032.

“Raygun” as she was known, was later ridiculed on social media, with some posts also questioning the Olympic qualifying process.

In a television interview for The Project on Australia’s Channel 10, she told of being chased by cameras through Paris streets and how she dealt with the very public reaction to her performance.

“That was really wild,” she said in rare public comments since the event. “If people are chasing me, what do I do? That really did put me in a state of panic. I was nervous to be out in public. It was pretty nerve-wracking for a while.”

She apologized for the commotion, but again defended her performance and said she was thankful for support from others in the sport.

“It is really sad to hear those criticisms,” she said. “I am very sorry for the backlash that the community has experienced, but I can’t control how people react. The energy and vitriol that people had was pretty alarming.

“While I went out there and had fun, I did take it very seriously. I worked my butt off preparing for the Olympics and I gave my all, truly. I think my record speaks to that.”

She had previously defended how she qualified for Paris, and reiterated it on the TV program.

“I won the Oceania championships. It was a direct qualifier,” Gunn said. “There were nine judges, all from overseas. I knew my chances were slim as soon as I qualified,” for the Olympics.

“People didn’t understand breaking and were just angry about my performance,” she added. “The conspiracy theories were just awful and that was really upsetting. People are now attacking our reputation and our integrity — none of them were grounded in facts.”

Gunn’s performance was mocked online and on television, including in a sketch on Jimmy Fallon’s late-night TV show.

“I don’t know whether to, like, hug him or yell at him because what a platform he ended up giving me,” Gunn said. “I don’t think I’m in a place yet to watch it but I will watch it at some point.”

Otherwise, Gunn said she’s just trying to cope a month later, with some help from therapy.

“I definitely have my ups and downs, good and bad days,” she said. “It has been so amazing to see the positive response to my performance. I never thought I’d be able to connect with so many people in a positive way … but it definitely has been tough at times. Fortunately, I got some mental health support pretty quickly.”

Corso won bronze in the women’s 1,500 meters T13 classification (visual impairment) on Saturday after winning a silver medal at the Tokyo 2020 games. Corso will also continue to chase Paralympic gold while running cross country and track for Lipscomb University in Nashville.

More than half of Corso’s Paralympic teammates have competed collegiately, according to the U.S. Olympic and Paralympic Committee, but she is part of the first generation that can profit off marketing deals while still competing as an NCAA athlete.

Corso’s deals range from smaller sponsorships on social media to partnerships with worldwide brands like Toyota, and, announced earlier this month, Samsung.

“Especially when larger brands are supporting more Paralympic athletes, I think that definitely means a lot to us as athletes, just realizing that they value Paralympic sport is super important,” Corso said.

This is thanks to the NCAA’s 2021 decision to allow athletes to make money from their names, images and likenesses, referred to as NIL. Prior to that, athletes would lose their eligibility for any commercial activity, but the passage of state laws pressured the NCAA into changing its rules. Since then, collegiate athletes have been able to monetize their NIL through brand sponsorships, licensing agreements, product endorsements and other activities.

The total projected market for NIL deals has expanded from $917 million in its first year to a projected $1.67 billion this year, according to an annual report from Opendorse, a prominent NIL deal marketplace.

The new NIL rules took effect less than two months before the last Paralympic games in Tokyo. The NIL market has flourished since then, making the 2024 Paralympics one of the first major brand-building opportunities for collegiate athletes in adaptive sports.

Coming off the Paralympics in 2021, Corso technically was eligible for the endorsement deals as an incoming freshman at Lipscomb. The infrastructure to support NIL was still in development, however, leaving Corso with few opportunities even after her medal-winning performance.

As the NIL market developed with time, Corso also started connecting with brands over social media or through platforms like Opendorse. Corso has deals with Olipop and Firefly Recovery, both achieved without an agent or Team USA’s assistance.

“I would say as the years have gone on that I’ve been in college, there’s been more opportunities, and there’s also been more platforms popping up where brands can reach out to athletes,” Corso said. “That’s been super helpful for just getting athletes connected with brands in general and having more of a structure around it.”

Corso is not alone. Other collegiate Paralympians like USC’s Ezra Frech (track & field), Alabama’s Ixhelt Gonzalez (wheelchair basketball) and Virginia’s Skylar Dahl (rowing) have all benefited from NIL as the Paris games approach.

“I think more brands … are starting to copy other brands in providing NIL opportunities,” Corso said. “I would say it’s definitely more of a known thing than it was three years ago.”

NIL deals often make headlines for massive monetary figures going to superstars such as Iowa basketball player Caitlin Clark, USC quarterback Caleb Williams and LSU basketball player Angel Reese. None of Corso’s deals have approached the million-dollar mark, but her earnings have helped support her through college. Like many Paralympians, Corso’s sponsorships are complementary to a better source of income.

“Nothing that I’ve experienced could fully support me financially,” Corso said. “But I do know that after college, I have a few Team USA teammates who have larger sponsorships and deals that are a larger source of their income.”

NIL has also solved an issue that many Paralympians used to face: ending their college career early to maximize the years they can profit off endorsements. Take former Arkansas sprinter Hunter Woodhall, who won his first Paralympic medals at the Rio games in 2016.

Woodhall was 16 at the time and began building a large social media following but was unable to monetize it once he signed with Arkansas. He left the Arkansas track team months before the 2020 Paralympics with a year of eligibility left so he could monetize his social media following.

“I got so tired of waiting, tired of their hypocrisy,” said Woodhall in a 2021 interview with The New York Times. “It was not worth staying to chase a national title so they could use my name and my story to promote themselves.”

Corso can maximize all her years of NCAA eligibility. The 21-year-old will enter her senior seasons with Lipscomb’s cross country and track teams after Paris, chasing more personal records and national accolades before graduation.

She said she knows how she wants to see the NIL market evolve for Paralympians.

“I’d probably say just continuing opportunities and just a wider variety of brands that are supporting athletes,” she said. “I definitely want to see a more equal opportunity between Olympians and Paralympians. It’s definitely getting better and more in that direction, but I do think that there’s still work that can be done.”

The birdsong is quiet by the track at Soka University on a July afternoon, and the branches of the surrounding tree canopy barely shiver from the warm breeze through the San Joaquin Hills, and Frech is the only consistent source of noise on campus. The 19-year-old Paralympian talks while he stretches, raising his voice as he presses a Theragun to his thigh. He talks while he rolls a sleeve over the stump of his left leg. He talks while he suctions a running blade to his knee. His sentences brake and accelerate, crashing into one another, a young man cursed with a self-described ambitious mind.

He went to bed at 10 p.m. on the Fourth of July. Parties bore him. Kickbacks bore him. TV series, movies – any self-described “stupid piece(s) of content” – bore him. The same itch, invariably, creeps in.

“I,” Frech says, “could be saving the world right now.”

He was born with congenital limb differences and fingers missing on his left hand, his left leg amputated when he was 2½ years old. By 9 years old, he was speaking on “Ellen” as an advocate for people with physical disabilities in sports. By 11 years old, he’d solidified a dream to become a Paralympian.

Everyone on Earth, Frech feels, has a butterfly effect. This is his. He has spent his young life sharing the story of his young life, preaching to an ever-growing audience of more than 500,000 combined followers on Instagram and TikTok. A few months ago, he committed to USC for track and field, becoming – according to Team USA – the first above-the-knee amputee to earn a Division I track and field scholarship. His very purpose as a human being, Frech believes, is centered around two realities.

1) His life’s calling is to change the way the entirety of human society views disability.

2) To do that, he must become the greatest Paralympian of all time.

“I believe I can be that person,” Frech says, with all the self-assuredness of a grown adult and all the self-assuredness of a 19-year-old. “But you have to win. Have to win. No one cares if I don’t win, you know?”

Frech drove from Los Angeles to Aliso Viejo for a workout, repeating the same manifestations to himself into the thin air inside his orange Toyota.

I am the Paralympic champion. I am the Paralympic champion. I am the Paralympic champion.

A couple of hours later, he walks back to the edge of the track at Soka, trying to place himself in Florida, host of the Paralympic trials July 18-20.

“Game on the line,” coach Ryan Sanders shouts, waiting by a high jump bar.

“Game on the line,” Frech mutters.

He claps three times. He bellows, for nobody but himself. Wooh! And he bounds toward the bar, leaps, bends – and nicks it off with his right leg.

Frech comes up wincing. Damn. He reviews the film with Sanders. Another, he decides, walking back to the edge of the track. He claps three times. He bellows, for nobody but himself. Wooh! And he bounds toward the bar, leaps, bends – and nicks it off, again, with his right leg.

By all accounts, they are encouraging failures, his leg the only part of his body that touched the bar. Frech smiles. But he still chides himself, watching the last attempt back on Sanders’ camera.

“Ah, Jesus,” he mumbles, a young man who holds himself against a much grander scale.

Somewhere, a butterfly flaps its wings.

Shooting for a world record

Three days earlier, more than 5,600 miles away in Leverkusen, Germany, a jumper from the Netherlands named Joel de Jong obliterated the Paralympic long-jump world record in Frech’s T63 class with a mark of 7.67 meters.

For several minutes on the track, it’s all Frech can talk about, and he can talk about plenty. “How (expletive) crazy is that?” he asks Sanders, who shakes his head in agreement.

Frech’s eyes pop. Wide. Now, he tells Sanders, he has to jump 7.50 meters in Paris come late August. He pulls out his phone, showing his coach a video of a recent workout, where he performs step-ups with heavy chains draped around his neck – on his amputated leg.

“I called Ari, my strength and conditioning coach,” Frech says, “and I said, ‘We got to go crazy on the left side.’”

Ari is Ariyon Tolbert, a trainer who first met Frech two years ago at a mutual friend’s house. That day, Tolbert asked Frech if he wanted to hit some core exercises. The kid agreed, and started doing sit-ups. He hit Tolbert’s target number, and kept going. And kept going.

“He embraces difficulty,” Tolbert said, “like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

Every day since May 26, Frech has posted a day-in-the-life TikTok to his account – username “One leg man” – labeled “Day X/100 until I win Paralympic Gold.” And his goal at the Paralympic trials, held a month before the Games kick off in late August, isn’t simply to qualify. Frech wants to shatter his own high-jump world record, set at last year’s Para World Championships in Paris.

“If I come in jumping my world record of 1.95 (meters) and I don’t jump above it because I want to save it for the big moment, then the energy there is totally different,” Frech says Tuesday, “than if I were to be walking into Paris having blown out the world record.”

“These guys are thinking to themselves, ‘No way.’”

The blatancy here isn’t new. Before those World Championships in 2023, a friend called Frech and suggested he stop so publicly verbalizing his goals. Family members have told him the same. His peers back at Brentwood High, Frech said, thought he was cocky. Folks in his DMS think he’s cocky, too.

He is cocky. Frech wants people to think he is. He wants the public to see an unafraid 19-year-old, a torchbearer for those beaten down by society. He was raised from a young age by parents Clayton and Bahar – the former the CEO of non-profit Angel City Sports, the latter a longtime actress in “Crash” and the “Saw” franchise – to be unapologetic for his differences.

Growing up, Frech would wear shorts at every opportunity, because he wanted people to see his left leg.

“For me, it’s –” Frech says Tuesday, getting up off a bench to mime puffing his chest out, “‘This is me. This is who I am.’”

He wants eyeballs. Frech points to the Indiana Fever’s Caitlin Clark, riding the momentum created off so many greats before her to explode the popularity of women’s basketball. He points to Michael Phelps, who helped propel Olympic swimming into mainstream coverage. He wants people to watch him in Paris and hope he wins, sure. He wants people to watch him in Paris and hope he fails, too.

“And I won’t,” Frech adds. “But.”

The butterfly effect

A few minutes after Frech finishes his Tuesday workout, he pulls out his phone and points to his background.

The words “Never again” sit underneath the time, superimposed upon two photos. The first shows the medalists at the 2020 Tokyo Paralympics, where a 16-year-old Frech finished fifth in the high jump. The second shows the podium at May’s Para Athletics World Championship in Kobe, Japan, where Frech stands, with eyes of steel, on the second-place step next to Indian winner Mariyappan Thangavelu.

After he lost that May, Frech went up to Thangavelu and shook his hand.

“Congratulations, sir,” Frech told Thangavelu.

“That’s the last one you’ll ever get.”

On Instagram, a few days later, he posted the photo of the winner’s podium in Kobe and tagged Thangavelu as “enjoy.it.while.it.lasts.”

“The truth is, I will never lose another international competition,” Frech tells the Southern California News Group, and he means it.

When Frech returned to the States with a silver medal that May, he received nothing but hearty congratulations. Smiles. Handshakes. Frech smiled back. He shook hands back. He held his tongue. Most people have an average mindset, he believes. So he did not tell them the hurt that burned in his gut, the agony of failing his self-imposed purpose as a human being, because that would be impossible to explain within a smile and a handshake.

If I don’t win, more people with disabilities around the world will die.

He must do this, Frech feels. He must become a Paralympic champion, and a champion for his community, because if he fails – he rattles off, rapid-fire – more in his community will struggle with mental health. They will face fewer job opportunities. They will have less access to physical activity.

And it has to be him. If not him, who else?

“I feel, on my back, the burden of making the world more inclusive for those with disabilities,” Frech says.

Committing to USC in February was a direct step toward that goal, a platform that would allow him to continue working with Angel City Sports, which provides widespread access to adaptive sports opportunities in Southern California, and segue directly into competing in the LA 2028 Paralympic Games. But his college journey won’t be easy. During Frech’s recruitment, USC assistant coach Jeff Petersmeyer told him directly he might not travel to many conference meets at his current marks. At the USC-UCLA dual meet this past year, for example, the lowest long jump mark of the six-person field was 7.16 meters; Frech’s personal best is 6.94 meters, set in March.

Frech doesn’t care. He is prepared to lose in practice, in some capacity, every single day of his college career. But he will invariably step onto the track as part of the field at some future Big Ten meet, and he will compete, and he will post the moment to his hundreds of thousands of social-media followers, and in his eyes traditionally superficial concepts of likes and views will become tiny tangible agents of change in normalizing disability.

“You know how many people are going to be at these track meets with me, thinking, ‘What the hell is happening right now, I didn’t even know someone with one leg can run, and this kid’s out here out-jumping me?’” Frech says. “That’s what I want.”

“I want to break the barriers,” he continues. “I want to shock people. I want to change the way they view someone who’s an amputee.”

He walks off the track Tuesday, and begins climbing the long set of stairs back up to the main campus at Soka, bracing his hand on the railing and hip-swiveling his left leg up every step. On the walk back into the garage, Frech delivers one final message, a direct affirmation of his purpose.

“I genuinely believe I can do it,” Frech says, speaking of the Paralympics, speaking of everything. “At the core of my soul,” he continues, gesturing at his chest, “I think I can do it.”

He climbs back into his Toyota, back for another drive of manifesting a dream he just might shoot high enough to reach.

I am the Paralympic champion. I am the Paralympic champion. I am the Paralympic champion.

This was originally published July 15, 2024 by the Los Angeles Daily News

PARIS (AP) — Just weeks after hosting the Olympics, Paris began the final chapter of its summer of sports Wednesday with the opening ceremony of the Paralympic Games.

French President Emmanuel Macron officially declared the Games open in a ceremony held outside the confines of a stadium, just like when the Olympics opened in the city on July 26.

Against the backdrop of a setting sun, thousands of athletes paraded down the famed Champs-Elysées avenue to Place de la Concorde in central Paris.

About 50,000 people watched the ceremony in stands built around the iconic square, which is the biggest in Paris and is visible from afar because of its ancient Egyptian Obelisk. Accessibility for athletes in wheelchairs was facilitated with strips of asphalt laid along the avenue and placed over the square.

More than 4,000 athletes with physical, visual and intellectual impairments will compete in 22 sports from Thursday until Sept. 8.

Under the gaze of Macron, International Paralympic Committee President Andrew Parsons, fighter planes flew overhead, leaving red-white-and blue vapors in the colors of the French national flag, before the delegations entered the square in alphabetical order.

Some delegations were huge — more than 250 athletes from Brazil — and some were tiny — less than a handful from Barbados and just three from Myanmar.

Although Wednesday night’s show started at 8 p.m. local time, fans had gathered hours earlier under a scorching sun to get top spots along the way. As performers entertained the crowd on stage, volunteers danced alongside Paralympians as they waved their national flags and the sky gave off a postcard-perfect orange glow.

Ukraine’s delegation got a loud cheer and some of the crowd stood to applaud them.

The French delegation arrived last and to roars from the crowd, which then sang along to popular French songs, including “Que Je T’aime” by late rocker Johnny Hallyday.

Lucky Love, a French singer who lost his left arm at birth, was joined by performers in wheelchairs when he sang on stage. Then, as the national anthem played, the Obelisk lit up in the colors of the French flag.

Organizers had promised another spectacular show to open the Games. Once again it was held outside of a stadium, but unlike the rain-soaked Olympic opening ceremony on July 26, which featured a boat parade on the Seine River, the Paralympic ceremony was exclusively on land.

Organizers say more than 2 million of the 2.8 million tickets have been sold for the various Paralympic events.

Tony Estanguet, the president of the Olympic and Paralympic Games, called Paralympians “immense champions who we have the honor of being with tonight.”

The first medals handed out on Thursday will be in taekwondo, table tennis, swimming and track cycling. Athletes are grouped by impairment levels to ensure as level a playing field as possible. Only two sports, goalball and boccia, don’t have an Olympic equivalent.

Parsons said that the big crowds expected in Paris will mean a lot to the athletes, many of whom competed in front of empty stands at the Tokyo Paralympics three years ago due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

Parsons hoped the Paralympics would serve “as a powerful force for good” amid ongoing global tensions.

The closing ceremony will be held at Stade de France, the national stadium.

The opening ceremony will begin at 2 p.m. Wednesday along the iconic Champs-Élysées avenue and the action runs through Sept. 8. Here’s every Maryland athlete competing in the 2024 Summer Paralympics:

Wheelchair basketball

Trevon Jenifer, Huntingtown

A Team USA feature story likened Jenifer’s offensive mastery to “a cross between Speedy Gonzales and the Tasmanian Devil” and described his defense as a whirling dervish. The 35-year-old with congenital amputation and two gold medals began playing wheelchair basketball in 1992 with team Air Capital in Washington. He then played professionally for two years in France.

Before his junior year at Huntingtown High School, Jenifer began wrestling. The novice competed against his peers and finished third in his weight class as a senior at Maryland’s state tournament. At 17, he wrote an autobiography called “From the Ground Up” detailing his athletic pursuits and physical setbacks.

Wheelchair fencing

Noah Hanssen, Ellicott City

Hanssen was in a car accident at age 7 and has been in a wheelchair since. He grew up swinging toy swords around the house, replicating scenes from “Star Wars” and “The Lord of the Rings.” Thus, Hanssen was introduced to historical fencing — a form of martial arts that prefers to focus on the art of sword fighting. It wasn’t until his junior year of high school that a referee connected him with a coach in Catonsville to explore parafencing.

He went to Howard Community College, then transferred to University of Maryland in 2021 and became a fixture of the school’s fencing club. Hanssen will compete in the men’s saber in Paris.

Track and field

Samantha Heyison, Adamstown

Heyison comes from a family of athletes. Her mom, Tonya, played volleyball at UMBC. Her dad, Marc, was drafted by the Orioles in 1983 and played two seasons of minor league baseball. Growing up, Samantha — who was born with constriction band syndrome — tried soccer, basketball and softball but ultimately chose to pursue track and field.

She won Class 4A state titles in the discus (twice) and shot put while at Urbana High School. This past spring, she redshirted her freshman season at Wake Forest to focus on the Paris Games. She will compete in both the discus and shot put for Team USA.

Tatyana McFadden, Columbia

One of the most decorated Paralympians is from Columbia. McFadden has competed in every Summer Games since 2004 and made her Winter Games debut in Sochi in 2014. She competes in several events, most frequently dominating the 400-, 800- and 1,500-meter races. McFadden also won gold at every New York City Marathon from 2013 to 2016.

At Atholton High School, she often competed in separate wheelchair events, circling the track by herself. In 2005, McFadden and her adoptive mother, Deborah filed a lawsuit against Howard County Public Schools System that led to the eventual passage of the Maryland Fitness and Athletics Equity for Students with Disabilities Act in 2008, requiring equal opportunities for students with disabilities. It’s better known as “Tatyana’s Law.”

Daniel Romanchuk, Mt. Airy

A silver medal at the 2023 New York City Marathon with a time of 1:24:40 earned the 26-year-old Romanchuk a qualification to his third Paralympics. He competed in his first 26.2-mile race at 14 in Baltimore. At the Tokyo Games, Romanchuk won gold in the 400 behind a narrow 0.01-second victory and took bronze in the marathon.

Romanchuk was born with spina bifida, a birth defect in which there is an incomplete closing of the backbone and membranes around the spinal cord. By 2 years old, his parents got him involved in adaptive sports and he was taking part in national competitions at an early age. He’s a staunch supporter of the Baltimore-based adaptive sports program that uplifted him, Bennett Blazers.

Swimming

Jessica Long, Baltimore

The name Jessica Long has become synonymous with Paralympic success. She was born to a teenage mother in Siberia. She had fibular hemimelia, a congenital defect in her legs requiring a double amputation below the knees. And she was adopted from a Russian orphanage a month after her first birthday, which led to Long growing up in Baltimore and training at the wildly successful North Baltimore Aquatic Club. She’s now 32 with 29 medals (16 gold) — among the most decorated athletes in Paralympic history — competing in the 100-meter backstroke, breaststroke, freestyle and butterfly as well as the 400 freestyle and 200 individual medley.

Long made her Olympic debut in 2004 in Athens. At 12 years old, she became the youngest athlete on the U.S. Paralympic swim team. ESPN named her “Best Female Athlete with a Disability” four times. Sports Illustrated included her on a list of “The World’s Best Female Athletes.” There was a Super Bowl commercial about her. Oh, and she’s a leap-year baby.

Lawrence Sapp, Waldorf

In the top corner of Sapp’s website is a simple quote: “I am great at being me.” The Waldorf native, who has autism, joined the highly regarded Nation’s Capital Swim Club in 2013 and broke five school records during his freshman year at North Point High School. He’s been swimming with Team USA since 2017.

At the Tokyo Games, he competed in the 100 butterfly, 200 individual medley and 100 backstroke but did not medal. He does, however, have two golds and a silver in butterfly and backstroke events at the world championships. Sapp is currently a Division II swimmer at University of Missouri-St. Louis.

Zachary Shattuck, Mt. Airy

Shattuck was born with dwarfism and competed in team sports for much of his upbringing. It wasn’t until he got to Frostburg in 2015 that he started swimming. The 27-year-old was named an alternate at the 2016 Rio Games and made his Paralympic debut in Tokyo, where he finished eighth in the 200 individual medley and ninth in the 100 breaststroke.

At the 2021 U.S. trials in Minneapolis, Shattuck broke two American records: the 100 breaststroke (1 minute, 23.76 seconds) and the 50 butterfly (33.33) — the latter by one-hundredth of a second.

“He’s been in our situation,” said Landers, a 9-year-old fourth grader from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, who was born with spina bifida, a spinal cord defect. “He’s done the same things as us, and he has been in the Paralympics.”

Landers and 19 other members of the Bennett Blazers, Kennedy Krieger Institute’s adaptive sports program, got a chance last month to reacquaint themselves with Romanchuk when the Mt. Airy native made his second visit to the MoveNow Summer Camp at Kennedy Krieger Gymnasium in the 3800 block of Greenspring Avenue in Baltimore. Also born with spina bifida, Romanchuk joined the Bennett Blazers when he was 2 and said he felt a responsibility to return.

“One of the things that has stuck with me from my early days here at Bennett is that even after you aged out of the program and had gone off to wherever you’ve gone in life, they came back and showed the next generation not only what was possible in sports, but also in life,” he said. “They had gone off to college, gotten a job, gotten married, had kids, gone off to the Paralympics. But they came back and showed us what our opportunities were. … I know the impact that Bennett has had on me, and I want to help continue that as much as possible.”

Romanchuk’s list of athletic achievements is already impressive. The 25-year-old has won the Chicago Marathon twice and the Boston, New York and London marathons once, and gold medals in the men’s 800 meters T54 event and men’s marathon T54 at the 2019 World Para Athletics Championships in Dubai, United Arab Emirates.

Romanchuk followed that up by capturing gold in the men’s 400 meters T54 at the 2020 Summer Paralympics in Tokyo and bronze in the men’s marathon T54. And soon, he will compete in Paris at his third consecutive Paralympic Games.

So it’s little wonder that he was welcomed warmly by the Bennett Blazers last month. Dakota Nesbitt, another 9-year-old fourth grader from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, had already prepared a question for Romanchuk about his training regimen and practiced her basketball skills despite attending a six-hour basketball camp earlier in the day.

“She adores him,” said Amanda Nesbitt, mother of Dakota who was born with spina bifida. “Just looks up to him, watches all of his YouTube videos, has a poster of him hanging in her room. She just thinks that he is amazing, and he obviously is.”

The MoveNow Summer Camp in Baltimore is the creation of Allianz Trade Americas, a Baltimore-based insurer and asset manager that is the insurance partner of the Olympic and Paralympic Games and moved its headquarters from Owings Mills to the city in December. The camp is designed to excite young people about the Olympics and Paralympics through movement and exercise, according to spokeswoman Casey Pelfrey.

“The idea is to get kids active out there doing sports,” she said. “And we really feel a strong sense of obligation to be part of the community and give back to the Baltimore community.”

“Some people have unique talents,” acknowledged Bryan Russell, a 13-year-old eighth grader at Franklin Square Elementary/Middle School in Baltimore. “You don’t always have to be standing just to play sports.”

That recognition from the able-bodied segment is one of the camp’s primary objectives, said Dr. Brad Schlaggar, president and CEO of Kennedy Krieger Institute.

“Until you not just see it but experience it, you probably don’t understand the level of athleticism that is required if you are an athlete in a wheelchair or other adaptive sports setting,” he said. “So to actually engage and live it can completely change your perspective on what athleticism and competition means. It just engenders a much more inclusive perspective on competition and that kind of athleticism.”

Romanchuk said it was just as important to him to remind the wheelchair athletes not to contain their aspirations — or allow anyone to do that to them.

“One of the things I really hope that everyone goes home from the camp with is that the options are limitless,” he said. “There are times where the world can look at someone and kind of say, ‘There’s limited options there.’ But really, it’s not. As a young kid with spina bifida, the world probably looked at me and said, ‘Well, he can’t play basketball or do marathons.’ But here at Bennett, their motto is, ‘Teach kids they can before someone tells them they can’t,’ and that atmosphere and growing up in that atmosphere has really been instrumental in giving me the opportunities I’ve had up until today.”

Romanchuk’s presence at the camp was electrifying — if not for the campers, then definitely for some of the parents.

“When a person like Daniel and his star power shows up, that just adds a little pizzazz on top of the whole day,” said Chad Landers, Alexa’s father. “I’m sure everyone was excited Daniel came out today.”

Added Schlaggar: “There’s just smiles everywhere.”

Romanchuk will represent the United States in the marathon, but might not compete in five total events in Paris as he did in Rio in 2016 and Tokyo in 2020. Medaling is always a priority, but his approach entails being ready for anything.

“The one thing racing has taught me over the years is that you can make as detailed of a plan as you want, but as soon as that gun goes off, that is probably going to fall apart, and you’re going to have to adapt,” he said. “But whatever happens throughout the race, keep that same goal in mind and just adapt to that scenario, and keep working towards that goal.”

PARIS (AP) — The message is clear: Paralympians are not participating. They are competing.

A number of athletes preparing for the Paris 2024 Paralympic Games have proclaimed that on their social feeds over the past few days, reminding the world that Olympians are not the only athletes coming to Paris looking for gold.

The games will be underway next week with the opening ceremony on Wednesday. Athletes and the games’ own social and creative teams have been taking a more aggressive approach to their messaging, leaning into disabilities and being willing to risk discomfiting their audience to introduce athletes and their personalities, not just their disabilities.

The International Paralympic Committee has released several YouTube videos to show the edgier side of its competitors, including : “ Paris 2024: What Really Matters ” and “ Paris 2024: 100 Days to Go – Welcome to the Paralympics.” The tagline for both: “This is the Paralympics… they’re not playing games.”

‘A Guy With No Arms’

If you didn’t know the characters, the “What Really Matters” series opens on a jarring note. A genial 5-foot-6-inch man grasps a car’s steering wheel with his foot. He leans over to his passenger and says with a sideways smile, “Is this your first time riding in a car with a guy without arms?”

The guy with no arms is Paralympic silver medalist Matt Stutzman, who has built up a brand as the “Armless Archer.” He maneuvers the car with his feet: left foot on the pedals, right foot on the steering wheel.

Stutzman’s passenger is Chuck Aoki, a wheelchair rugby player joining Stutzman on Team USA. In the YouTube series, Stutzman hosts Aoki and para track and field athlete Scout Bassett telling their stories from a different point of view with humor thrown in.

“There’s that connection; it’s like an unspoken bond,” said Stutzman, who earned a silver medal in the men’s individual compound open at the London games in 2012. “I might not know who Bassett is, but we both know that we both had to go through something specific to even get to the level where we’re at in sport.”

Edgy takes

The IPC has received criticism for leaning into the disabilities of their athletes, but spokesman Craig Spence said the irreverent approach was necessary.

“If you speak to Paralympians, they’ve got a great sense of humor. They’re not wrapped up in cotton wool and protected from society,” Spence said in an interview earlier this year.

“They like to laugh about themselves,” he said. “Like we all do, and that’s why we’ve tried to be really edgy on the Paralympic TikTok account.”

Spence said the criticism the IPC had received came mostly from people outside the community of people with disabilities, and the comments often ask who the admin is on the account — implying it’s someone making fun of disabilities. But according to Spence, the “admin” is 2008 Paralympian Richard Fox from Britain.

A few videos have gone viral on the account. One video captured single-leg cyclist Darren Hicks winning time trial para-cycling gold in Tokyo with an altered audio sounding like a Marine drill sergeant yelling “left, left, left.”

Another audio that had viewers in shock in the comments section featured double-arm amputee Zheng Tao bumping into the wall with his head to claim gold at the London 2012 games.

For Stutzman, this content enables him and his teammates to tell the world they are not disabled people; they’re athletes with a range of capabilities who happen to have disabilities.

“It took the Paralympic Games and archery to make the world a believer that people with physical disabilities can literally do what everybody else can do,” Stutzman said.

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Ana Escamilla is a student in the undergraduate certificate program in the Carmical Sports Media Institute at the University of Georgia.

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AP Paralympics https://apnews.com/hub/paralympic-games

The first step for swimmer Ali Truwit was overcoming her newfound fear of the one place she had always felt safe — the water.

Because the sound of water, any sound involving water, instantly triggered flashbacks to the day she swam for her life after being bitten by a shark.

She and a friend were snorkeling in the ocean off Turks and Caicos on May 24, 2023, when a shark charged and bit Truwit’s lower left leg. Bleeding and with the shark circling, Truwit went into competitive swim mode and raced 75 yards toward the safety of the boat. Truwit was rushed to the hospital and airlifted to the United States, where she had three surgeries, including one to amputate her leg below the knee.

To reclaim her love of the water, she went to the family’s backyard pool. She waded up to her waist, fought off fear and took back control. The plunge not only started her path toward healing but to Paris for the Paralympics.

“I love comeback stories,” said the 24-year-old from Darien, Connecticut, who qualified for Paris in the 100 free, 400 free and the 100 back. “I’ve definitely relied on other people’s comeback stories to help me hold on to what feels like a bold and unrealistic hope — of fighting off a shark and surviving and losing a limb and making the Paralympics all in a year.”

The shark attack — “we tried to fight back”

Her itinerary for that summer involved fun and adventure before starting work at a consulting firm.

Truwit had just graduated from Yale after a career in the pool in which she was a four-year letter winner. She kicked things off by running a marathon with her mom on Mother’s Day.

Next on the list: joining friends for some sun on the beaches in Turks and Caicos. She went snorkeling with Yale teammate and good friend Sophie Pilkinton in an area not known for sharks.

On their way back to the boat, a shark aggressively approached and began bumping them.

“We tried to fight back,” Truwit said.

What was believed to be a bull shark bit her on the foot and lower leg.

“My immediate thought was, ‘Am I crazy or do I not have a foot right now?’” Truwit said. “It was a really hard image for me. But you move immediately into action.”

Stay calm. Remain conscious. Just get to the boat. That’s all she focused on as she and Pilkinton sprinted through the water, intensely aware the shark was still there.

Once on the boat, Pilkinton applied a tourniquet to slow the bleeding.

Truwit was later airlifted to a trauma hospital in Miami for two surgeries to fight infections. She was transported to a hospital in New York, where on her 23rd birthday, she underwent a transtibial — below-the-knee — amputation.

“A lot of dark days,” she said. “But I’m alive and I almost wasn’t.”

Work works becomes the mantra for recovery

The Truwit family has a mantra — “Work works.” That’s why Truwit went to rehab even on days when she didn’t feel good or was sad.

“Just put in the work,” she said.

First, though, she needed to alter her “Why?”

Instead of, “Why did this happen to me?” she centered on, “Why not throw everything into something?”

More specifically, why not the Paralympics? After all, she had plenty of time to get ready for the 2028 Summer Paralympics in Los Angeles.

“But I’m not someone who waits,” she said.

So Paris in 2024 it was, even if the time frame was incredibly tight.

She went through prosthetic training and strength exercises. She also worked with trauma therapists, which led to narrative therapy to re-author her life and combat her nightmares.

“So that I don’t let fear rule my life,” Truwit explained. “I had lost enough and anything that was on the table for me to regain, I was going to fight to regain it.

“I didn’t want to lose a limb and my love of the water, too.”

Focus on making Team USA for Paris

About 3 1/2 months removed from the attack, she was competing again. It was early but necessary to make certain standards to be in contention for a Paralympic spot. To help her, she teamed up with her club coach, Jamie Barone.

“I was just really curious how I was going to feel being back on the pool deck and back in a competitive space,” Truwit said. “The more I worked at it, the flashbacks reduced and the pain lessened.”

She qualified for nationals in Orlando, Florida, where she swam freestyle and backstroke. In April, she attended an international meet in Portugal — her first trip out of the country since the shark attack. Her mom was there as she shined in the 400 free S10 category, in which swimmers have a physical impairment affecting one of their joints.

“She’s just basically a workhorse who refuses to give up,” said her mom, Jody. “That’s who she was before the attack and amputation and that’s who she is every single day now.”

At U.S. Paralympic trials in Minneapolis in late June, she won the 100 backstroke, 400 free and 100 free. She joins a team that includes Paralympic swimming great Jessica Long and a host of returning medalists from Tokyo.

“I think hearing my name on that team was just a reminder to me that I’m stronger than I think,” said Truwit, who launched the “Stronger than you think” foundation to help others navigate through the healing process. “That we’re all stronger than we think.”

In Paris, she will have the support of about 50 family members and friends.

“A year ago, I was just working to get back in the water,” Truwit said. “I now get back in the water and that sense of joy comes back, and the smile comes back. To have that again is something I’m so thankful for. Honestly, it’s one of the moments in my swim career that I’m the proudest of, because I know how much work it took.”

Video journalist Aron Ranen contributed to this report.

SAINT-DENIS, France (AP) — Just four days before the start of the Paralympic Games, the athletes village was buzzing with activity on Saturday as athletes from 168 delegations were settling into their temporary home, preparing for their upcoming competitions.

The village, nestled in the northern suburbs of Paris, in the Seine-Saint-Denis department, closed its doors on Aug. 13 after the conclusion of the Olympic Games, giving organizers a week to make necessary adjustments for the upcoming Paralympics.

Laurent Michaud, head of the Paralympic Village, discussed the rapid yet meticulous transformation. The village had been built with inclusivity in mind from the start, but this final week was crucial for fine-tuning details to ensure that every aspect was perfectly suited to the para-athletes’ needs.

“All roadways, sidewalks and access points are fully accessible for people with reduced mobility. It is a 100% accessible village,” he explained.

The village reopened on Aug. 21, transformed to meet the specific needs of the 4,400 para-athletes.

Among the most significant adjustments were additional ramps and enhanced lighting throughout the village, making it easier for athletes to navigate, regardless of mobility or visual impairments. Sandy floors and grates that could have posed challenges to wheelchair users were covered with mats.

Motorized devices were also made available for wheelchair users, offering a powered boost that made getting around the village faster and more enjoyable. These quickly became a favorite among the athletes, adding an element of fun to their mobility.

One scene that captured this joy involved three athletes from Iran. They were spotted zipping through the main alley leading to the dining hall, with one athlete using the motorized device while the others clung to their companion’s shoulders, laughing as they enjoyed the ride.

Ludivine Munos, a former French para-athlete and head of integration for Paris 2024, praised the village’s setup, calling it a “paradise” for the para-athletes.

“The goal was to provide the best possible experience for the athletes during their stay, ensuring that they could focus entirely on their performance without worrying about accessibility issues,” Munos said.

Smaller adjustments were also made to enhance daily life. In the dining hall, tables were spaced out for wheelchair accessibility and some chairs were removed to create a more open layout.

Philipp Wurz, head of food and beverage, emphasized these subtle yet important changes. Products in fridges were displayed on all shelves to ensure that wheelchair users or athletes of short stature could easily access them. Volunteers were also on hand to provide assistance to athletes who required help carrying their trays. For those who wished to carry them on their laps, a thin layer of rubber was added to prevent food from slipping.

Within the living quarters, electrical outlets were installed at a height of 45 cm (17 inches) from the ground, eliminating the need for wheelchair users to strain themselves by reaching down. In the bathrooms, grab bars were strategically placed—one attached securely to the wall and another with suction cups, providing flexibility for different needs.

“The smallest details can make major improvements for para-athletes,” Wurz noted.

Beyond these practical adjustments, para-athletes could also enjoy a range of services, including a bakery, massage salon, grocery store, 24-hour gym, hair and nail salon and a free clinic all available within the village.

The Paralympic Games will begin on Aug. 28, and conclude on Sept. 8.