Blake Eaton

There I was, at the top of a mountain in Italy, sitting on a race course and preparing to race against the best in the world. I was living a dream I had grown up watching from a distance.
 

But before I ever reached that mountain, there was a kid who spent most of his life wondering where he belonged.

Growing up with a rare disability, I knew I was different, but I didn’t always understand why. I watched my friends and brothers run, laugh, and play while I struggled to keep up. I tried my hardest, but it always felt like I was being left behind. All I wanted was to join them—to feel normal.

Then I discovered adaptive sports, and eventually, skiing.

The first time I got on the snow, everything changed. For the first time, I wasn’t trying to keep up. I could. I felt the wind in my face. I felt free. I wasn’t being held back. I had found a place where my disability didn’t define what I could do. 

That feeling pushed me toward ski racing. I wanted to see how far I could take this.

But getting there wasn’t easy.

When I started racing, I was often the only person who looked, skied, and competed like me. I didn’t know where to go or who to follow. I was scared and intimidated. The only time I would see others like me are special camps I got invited to in CO. Still, I joined an able-bodied ski team and took a chance on myself.

Eventually, I knew skiing wasn’t just something I enjoyed. It was where I belonged. So I made another difficult choice. I left Minnesota, left my family, and moved to Salt Lake City all while doing college and possibly giving up a “normal future” to chase a dream that still felt almost impossible.

For three years, I trained every day. Skiing from 9 to 2, then going to the gym. Pushing my body and mind until I had nothing left.

And then came the hardest part.

This past winter, I got closer than I had ever been to accomplishing my dream. But every time I thought I was there, I fell short. Again. And again. It felt like every failure moved the finish line farther away.

I questioned everything.

I thought about quitting. I thought about going home to Minnesota and admitting that maybe I wasn't good enough. After everything I had sacrificed—my family, my comfort, holidays, and years of my life—I wondered if it had all been for nothing.

Then, at the end of the season, I got the call I had been waiting for. I had done it, I was a Paralympian. 

Suddenly, I was back at the top of that mountain in Italy.

But I wasn’t that scared little kid anymore. I wasn’t the kid struggling to keep up. I wasn’t the athlete wondering if I belonged.

I was sitting at the top of a race course, preparing to compete against the best in the world.

And in that moment, I realized something. 

I had persevered and continued to accomplish my dreams even though I failed, even if I felt scared, I felt intimidated, I felt different from others, and even if I was gonna be alone on my journey. I accomplished it.