Paralympic Heroes

by Cathy Wood

  ‘Because I can’t afford to own my own horse I do rely on other people’s goodwill,’ she says. ‘I form a professional relationship with my horse, rather than the sort of relationship you have with a pet because I know it’s not mine and I have to give it back,’ adding, ‘One of my skills as a rider is that I can ride any horse and get the most out of him for what I need.’

  Next stop was the Athens 2004 Paralympic Games, if only for the experience. Sophie Christiansen was still only 16.

  Athens 2004 proved life changing, but it wasn’t just Sophie who was affected: all four Christiansens were. At three years Sophie’s junior, Alex Christiansen, who was 13 when he travelled to Greece, had grown up knowing his sister was disabled but also not knowing any different. Helping her eat or walk was part of normal life and whether because of his gentleness or her initial dependency, they formed a close bond. ‘When she is away at university now, I really miss her,’ he says, ‘but don’t tell her that!’ As he grew older, and more protective, he would react at society’s prejudice towards a sibling who walked, and talked, differently. ‘I was annoyed by people who stopped and stared when I was younger,’ he says, ‘but now I understand some people are just not exposed to it.’

  And he never felt embarrassed or awkward, in fact the opposite. ‘I was proud of the fact she was disabled because it gave me another knowledge base I knew about that others didn’t,’ he says.

  In a family where one child is disabled it is easy for the others to feel overlooked, as Alex did when he first started at the same secondary school, Charters in Sunningdale, Sophie attended but not because she was disabled. ‘It was because she was an international athlete!’ he says. ‘I did feel as if I was always her brother until I developed my own interests and people got to know me.’ In fact he went on to become one of the head boys at Charters, which has since become a specialist Sports and Science College.

  Inevitably in the early days whatever the family did revolved around the additional care Sophie needed. Every day either Caroline or Karl would stretch her hamstrings and Achilles tendons in order to make walking easier. Without their daily attention the muscles would have shortened and she would have ended up walking on her toes, a classic symptom of Cerebral Palsy. And whether it was watching this ritual, or the years of compassion, patience and wisdom gained from growing up with a disabled sibling, when Alex Christiansen made his further education choices, he chose physiotherapy.

  Disability can, inevitably, be divisive within a family. For the Christiansens they were all in it together and that would probably never be more apparent than at Athens 2004, and not just because Sophie was about to make her debut in the biggest multi-sport event in the world for athletes with a disability.

  Caroline and Karl Christiansen had loved Greece long before the Paralympic Games were a speck on their horizon. In 1980, Karl had taken up a post as deputy headmaster at TASIS Hellenic International School in Athens. Three years later Caroline, who had only recently qualified, took up a junior teaching job at the same school. It was here they met and fell in love. When their children were born they chose names that reminded them of their time abroad and would work in either language: Sophie (or Sofia) and Alex (or Alexander). In 2002, two years before the 2004 Games, they returned for a family holiday.

  Walking any distance and often over uneven paths and steep inclines was too much of a challenge for Sophie, particularly around such landmarks as the Acropolis and the Parthenon. Undeterred, Karl put her on his back and hiked up the paths so all could enjoy the breathtaking views that awaited them. It was definitely worth it.

  They didn’t know then that two years later, they would be back for a far more emotional trip to the top. By 2004, it wasn’t the ancient sights Sophie had her mind set on, she was far more focused on heading towards the summit of Paralympic Equestrian sport.

  ***

  To spend any time with Sophie Christiansen is to know she is severely physically disabled but she is in no way mentally impaired. In fact quite the opposite, as she combines training for London 2012 with studying for an MSci in Mathematics at the Royal Holloway University of London, an achievement not lost on brother Alex. ‘You can probably tell how bright she is because she’s doing a Maths degree,’ he says.

  In terms of her disability, though, Sophie has much to contend with as she does not have complete control over any of her limbs and walks with the aid of plastic splints on her ankles and supportive footwear, all of which prevent her ankles bending inwards. When she rides, she wears boots with specially-made footwear fitted inside. She cannot complete simple tasks others might take for granted, such as putting on her shoes or tying shoe laces, without assistance as she has little fine motor coordination. If, for example, she wanted to have her ears pierced or wear contact lenses she would need a carer, or helper, to put them in and take them out every time. Nor could she balance her own body while, at the same time, holding something like a hot drink in her hand. So, against that backdrop the fact that she competes, and wins, against the best riders with a disability in the world is remarkable. As is her ability to concentrate for four and a half minutes – the approximate time it takes to complete a competition Dressage ‘Test’. And although competing has physical challenges, it also brings exhilarating benefits and much-valued respite. ‘With the horses it is a form of relief and allows me to get away from everyday life,’ Sophie explains. ‘There are things I can do on a horse that other non-disabled people can’t. I am quite disabled, even though I don’t see myself that way: when I am on a horse I just feel free and can forget about the difficulties of everyday life.’

  One of Sophie’s innate, inexplicable gifts is her ability to feel the horse beneath her and control fine movements, which create near-perfect harmony between horse and rider. It is not something you can really teach or adequately explain; it is just a skill she has. ‘Her natural ability does not come from either of us,’ says Karl.

  ‘Sophie has talent, ability and knowledge,’ says coach Clive Milkins. ‘And the extra X factor.’ And she also loves the thrill of pitting her skills against others. ‘I have always liked competition,’ she says. ‘I think you always have to have that goal in your head. Even though I don’t enjoy training and riding when it is pouring with rain, you have to think if you don’t train today you might not be able to experience that fantastic feeling of winning a gold medal for your country again.’

  Paralympic Equestrian consists of Dressage Tests. The Team Test and Championships Test are made up of a series of movements that must be completed within a set amount of time; the third, the Freestyle Test, involves performing a given number of movements set to music.

  The only difference between the tests done by different Grades is that the most severely disabled riders – in Grades I and II – only complete movements which involve the horse walking or trotting. It is only in Grades III and IV that the horse will walk, trot and canter. In other words, the only difference in what a spectator will see is what the horse is doing.

  When Christiansen arrived in Athens in 2004 there was little expectation of her. She was, after all, the youngest rider from all countries taking part. She was selected for as something of a wild card in order that when Beijing 2008 came around four years later, she would be more experienced at international level and ready for the pressure and increased expectation on her. However Sophie really didn’t take too much notice. ‘I have always been quite competitive,’ she says. ‘I want to do the best in all aspects of my life, be it sport or getting a decent degree. Even when I was little, I loved competing – it just reflects my personality.’

  And so it was at the Markopoulo Equestrian Centre on a hot Athens day that Sophie Christiansen surprised everyone and took a bronze medal in her category. There have been many medals and numerous honours since, including an MBE, but this is the one they all remember, probably because of the way the story unfolded in front of them.

  Luckily for the Christiansens Clare Balding was commentating for the BBC
that day. Balding’s father, Ian, was one of the country’s leading racehorse trainers before retiring in 2002 and what his daughter doesn’t know about equestrian and elite horse riding isn’t worth knowing. As the competition unfolded, it was Balding who pointed out Christiansen looked to have snatched third place by the narrowest of margins. Her score flashed up – less than a point ahead of the USA’s Keith Newerla who had to settle for fourth. The bronze was indeed secured.

  Hearing this, Caroline struggled to keep her emotions in check. But the men in her family, meanwhile, didn’t even try to hold back. ‘I was in floods of tears,’ Alex says. ‘I was in another country watching my sister compete in a worldwide competition in front of lots of television cameras. It opened my eyes to how good she was. Up until that point I just didn’t realise her talent and there I was sitting with a couple of thousand people, watching and thinking, that’s my sister coming third in the world!’

  Sitting next to him, Karl Christiansen was equally emotional at the realisation that they were all together for such a momentous moment. ‘To be there as a family was a unique, special and wonderful moment,’ he says. And pretty well everyone else was crying too, including Nicola Tustain, who had lent Sophie both her horse and her coach, Clive Milkins. Behind every successful athlete there is a tightly-knit team that feels the tension almost as much as the competitor, even though there is nothing they can do to influence the outcome.

  ‘There was such a buzz,’ says Sophie. ‘Standing on the podium and seeing the Union Jack flag go up is like nothing else I have ever experienced. I think that is why I do it because not many people ever get to have that feeling in their lives.’

  Suddenly she was thrust into the media spotlight and everyone wanted to talk to her about her achievement. ‘I was always quite self-conscious about my speech,’ she says, ‘but in Athens because I won a medal, I was forced to talk to people and give interviews. When I won bronze it was one of the most special medals I have ever won – it is a moment I will never forget.’

  Did the young Sophie Christiansen have the talent to make it as a Paralympic rider? Without doubt, yes. Was she committed enough to put in the huge amount of time needed to perfect her craft? Absolutely. Was she lucky enough to be in a sport which has a well-established way of spotting the next generation of medal winners and helps them realise their potential? Definitely. She also had the full backing of her family. ‘My family have helped me to try and fulfill my dreams,’ she says. And she also became part of a well-organised and well-run stables that had the resources and vision to take her to the very top.

  By Athens 2004, Sophie Christiansen’s journey from rehabilitation activity to recognition on the world stage was complete, even if her career was just beginning. As she leaned forward to receive her medal, she was half a world away another athlete, who later became friends with her, but was just beginning her own Paralympic journey.

  ***

  Like many little girls, Helene Raynsford, who grew up non-disabled, wanted to pull on a leotard and tutu, wear pretty ballet shoes and grace the world’s finest stages while completing an effortless pas de deux in front of sell-out audiences. Unlike most young girls, though, for Helene this was more than a dream. At 10 she entered full-time ballet school and then joined The Royal Ballet School, the world-renowned classical institution in London, aged 16.

  It could have been growing up with an older sister who was in the Great Britain Synchronised Swimming team, or an innate talent, but Helene learnt about discipline and dedication at a young age. She loved the precision and excellence classical ballet offered, as well as the chance to be rhythmical and completely in tune with her body. ‘I thrive in environments where I am pushed to be the best I can be,’ she says, ‘and ballet is all about that. You are taught as a young dancer that life at the top is performance orientated and if you don’t meet the standard, you can find your schooling terminated at the end of the academic year.’

  In the end it wasn’t a performance failure on Raynsford’s behalf that ended a promising career but an insurmountable ankle injury. At 17, the dream was over. Helene left The Royal Ballet School and returned to live with her parents in Camberley, Surrey. ‘I was absolutely mad about ballet but there was no way round the injury,’ she adds. ‘For a while I found it hard – I couldn’t watch too much ballet.’ Drawing on years of hard work and application, which would later resurface in her life, Helene threw all her energies into getting good enough A-levels to study Medical Biochemistry at the Royal Holloway University of London in Egham, Surrey.

  Once at Royal Holloway, she was soon fully immersed in university life, mixing work with sports activities like fencing and trampolining, although largely for the social, rather than physical, aspects. Like any 21-year-old, she was enjoying the independence and freedom university life offers.

  The freedom turned out to be short-lived, however. In the summer of 2001, without warning her life turned on its head. Born with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, a genetic condition which leads to extremely flexible and loose joints, Helene underwent an operation, which resulted in a catastrophic brain injury. As a result she was left unable to speak, walk or take care of herself.

  Remarkably, considering the severity of the injury, she recovered enough to be discharged from hospital and return home with parents, Maureen, a nurse, and Robin, an electrician, who would look after her from then on. They were advised to consider care as the only long-term option for her. There was no suggestion, or even possibility, that one day she might return to her previous life as a vivacious, outgoing young woman, they were told.

  In fact, for the next eight months, from August 2001 until March 2002, Helene remembers nothing. She had no short-term memory and even simple tasks, such as picking up a knife or fork to feed herself, were beyond her grasp. ‘I could speak but my sentences came out jumbled and I quite often used different words for things when I could not think of the obvious word for the item I was talking about,’ she says. For example, if Helene wanted to say ‘thermometer’ but couldn’t remember what it was called, she would say ‘temperature-taker’ instead.

  Helene’s long loss of memory and lack of awareness about the seriousness of her condition was probably, in hindsight, a saving grace. ‘I think it put me in a better position psychologically than, say, someone who has a spinal injury and has the full capacity to understand what has happened,’ she says.

  When her speech recovered enough, she told Maureen and Robin that she wanted to return to Royal Holloway and complete her degree. Secretly shocked, they decided to go along with the plan so as not to set back her recovery. ‘My mum only agreed to meet with the university to discuss the possibility that I might return because she was certain they would say no,’ Helene explains.

  In fact, Royal Holloway were both realistic and welcoming. Not only did they encourage Helene’s return and re-integration into student life, they laid on fellow students to take her to and from lectures. ‘They were fantastic. I am sure I made the progress I did because they made it possible for me to go back,’ she says.

  As the injury affected different parts of Helene’s brain she was left with various impairments, including memory loss and a lack of motor control and feeling. So, for example, while she could turn on the shower, she couldn’t tell the difference between hot and cold, or remember seismic world events like the attack on the Twin Towers in New York of September 2001.

  Over time, as her feeling and memory was restored, Helene regained independence in many areas but she didn’t regain control over the lower part of her body, which meant she would have to rely on a wheelchair, if not forever, at least for the foreseeable future. All of which could seem like an uphill battle and took an inevitable toll, particularly on her self-esteem. ‘Having to rely so much on others had a big effect on me. People do perceive you differently when you are in a wheelchair, and because I couldn’t control some of my movements and sometimes I looked a bit dazed, people treated me as if I had learning difficulties. They would freq
uently speak over the top of me and I lost my confidence.’

  It was also a time when she found out who her friends were. There were the ones who couldn’t cope and invariably, faded away and others who would go to any lengths to help her regain independence, meaning and motivation in her life. And it was one of the latter group who suggested Helene visit Variety Village in Toronto, Canada – a world-renowned centre which works with young people to help them integrate sport and life skills.

  By the time the 10-day trip was over Helene Raynsford was a very different person, having tried practically every sport the Village offered, including athletics, swimming, wheelchair basketball, wheelchair fencing, rock climbing and even an aerial wheelchair assault course 40 feet up in the air. ‘By the time I got home from Canada I realised I could do whatever I wanted,’ she says.

  Like others before her, Helene had experienced sport in a reparative way, which opened the door to participating back home. Suddenly she realised being in a wheelchair was no longer a barrier to trying the things others had said would forever be out of reach. Perhaps, though, the most liberating experience of all was being surrounded by people who made no distinction between non-disabled and disabled. ‘It was eye-opening to be in an environment that was both welcoming and integrated,’ she says.

  Back in the UK, invigorated by the experience, Helene took up wheelchair basketball. Soon her natural ability was noticed and by 2005, she was competing for Britain at the annual Paralympic World Cup in Manchester, the biggest multi-sport competition outside the Paralympic Games. Although there were medals for Britain and Helene enjoyed the fast, physical aspects of the sport, something was lacking.

  In the summer of 2005, by now working in health care, Helene had a meeting at Eton Dorney, Windsor, where the Rowing events for the Olympic and Paralympic Games will be held at London 2012. Under pressure with work deadlines and reluctant to make the journey from her office in Guildford to Windsor, she tried to get out of the meeting, to no avail. Her presence, she was told, was essential. The minute the meeting ended, she was keen to leave until a colleague persuaded her to join him on the bank to watch the rowing that was taking place. ‘I’d never seen rowing in my life,’ she remembers, ‘and yet I couldn’t help but be gripped by the buzz and excitement.’