Blind Runner Tackles The Winnipeg Marathon
Posted Friday, 17 June, 2005
By Paul Friesen- Winnipeg Sun
Ever wonder what you'd do if you went blind? Probably not what Tracy Garbutt did.
The Winnipegger actually went out and improved himself, going back to school at age 27, landing a better job, even whipping himself into shape.
This Sunday, Garbutt, 33, will put down his white cane, hand over the leash to his guide-dog and attempt to run the Manitoba Marathon.
"I'm almost speechless," Garbutt was saying yesterday. "It's still hard to believe that I'm going to go do it this weekend."
It'll be easy to spot Garbutt. At first glance, you might think he's cheating, because he'll be the one tethered to the runner ahead of him.
TRAINING
It's the way he's been training since March, when he showed up at a Sunday-morning meeting of joggers and introduced himself.
"He stood in the parking lot with all of us and sort of explained his plight," Kimberly Passey recalled. "We all sort of nodded in agreement, which, you know, the guy can't see. And then we all ran past him and commenced to running, leaving him facing the wrong way by himself.
"So we kind of went, 'Duh ... OK, who knows what to do with a blind guy?' "
There was a time when Garbutt didn't know what to do with himself, either.
He was just 12 when he found out he suffered from retinitis pigmentosis and cataracts, a condition that leads to total blindness.
He had to quit playing hockey, and eventually found out racing dirt bikes wasn't a great idea, either.
Then there was his previous job: unloading semi-trailers in a warehouse.
"I was nearly killing myself. Literally," Garbutt said. "You figure, 'I can't do this, I can't do that.' You focus on the can'ts."
Somewhere along the line, though, Garbutt decided he could.
Could become a rehabilitation teacher at the local CNIB.
Could begin working out five times a week, turning his 5-foot-7 frame into 185 pounds of muscle.
And could run a marathon.
Because he's down to less than 5% vision in his left eye, and only has light perception in his right, Garbutt will navigate the course by holding onto a length of yellow surgical cord that's tied to his guide.
That guide will be one of five or six runners who'll lead Garbutt four to five miles each, a system the group has down pat, they hope.
Whoever's leading calls out the turns and warns Garbutt of potholes or other hazards. If a guide runner gets hurt or slows down, Garbutt can switch on the fly.
"Race day will be nice because it's all open," he said. "I don't have to worry about curbs and poles and trees."
Garbutt can't say enough about his running mates, suggesting he couldn't be doing this without their encouragement.
Funny thing is, they say he's the one providing the inspiration.
"The guy never complains," Passey said. "I don't know where the guy gets this amazing attitude. It's changed me. You have nothing to whine about. When I start getting tired, I just close my eyes for a second and I think, 'OK, this is what Tracy's going through.'
"You forget he's blind. It's not until afterward, when we go for coffee and I see him with his cane and putting his hand out, that you realize, 'My god, he's got it going on.' "
Running blind hasn't been without its hazards. Garbutt has stepped into potholes, run into a table on an indoor track and split open his knuckles on the railing of the Bishop Grandin Bridge.
Nothing has thrown him off track, though.
"You don't want to have a regret in life," Garbutt explained. "I have two young sons, and when they get older I want them to see what dad did. And they can go, 'Wow ... if dad can do this, we can do this much more, maybe, if we're sighted.' So I'd like my boys down the road to see this."
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