Running with Feather: Redefining Ability in Collegiate Athletics

As a lifelong athlete, getting diagnosed with POTS completely shook my identity. I was someone who was constantly striving for new limits. But now, my body was failing me in ways I couldn’t understand. Not only my dreams, but also my independence began fading away from me.

During this time, I began to explore alternative ways to regain control and independence. That’s when Feather came into my life. Feather, my service dog, became not only a source of comfort but a critical partner in managing my condition. Over the course of two years, we trained together, building not just obedience and task proficiency, but an unspoken bond based on trust and understanding. Feather learned to recognize the signs of my body shutting down before I even could. When my heart rate would suddenly rise and I started to lose consciousness, he would begin tasking immediately! Providing alerts, deep pressure therapy, and finding help for me until I could safely recover.

When I was a collegiate runner, Feather was right by my side every step of the way. He attended every meet with me, watching from the sidelines as I pushed my body through the unimaginable. And when I crossed the finish line, often moments before losing consciousness, Feather would spring into action, performing his trained tasks to help bring me back to conciousness.

Throughout this process, I sought to understand where athletes like me fit within the broader structure of collegiate sports. While reviewing the NCAA handbook, I was struck by a glaring omission: there was no mention of service dogs. The absence was more than an oversight, it was a reflection of an assumption that individuals with disabilities, especially those requiring service animals, were not expected to compete at that level.

Yet there we were, Feather and I, breaking barriers together. Every race we attended was a silent protest against the idea that disability and elite performance are mutually exclusive. Feather’s presence on the track symbolized more than assistance, he represented resilience, adaptation, and the belief that accessibility belongs in every arena, including athletics.

Our journey has not been easy, but it has been transformative. Living and competing with POTS taught me that strength is not measured by how fast you can run. It’s measured by how you rise when your body tells you to stop. Feather and I redefined what it means to compete, not just for ourselves, but for every athlete who has ever been told that their disability excludes them from the starting line.

Together, we have proven that athleticism takes many forms. Sometimes, it looks like a runner crossing the finish line. Other times, it looks like a service dog waiting faithfully on the sidelines, ready to remind the world that strength, courage, and determination can’t be confined to what’s written in a rulebook.