Walking Tall

Tim Ostler was living his dream.  A professional snowboarder since the age of 17, Ostler’s talents took him places all over the world. He had shot videos and competed in competitions everywhere from Europe to New Zealand. The list of sponsors he had during his 6-year career seems endless: Quiksilver, K2 Snowboards, Milo Sport, and Da Kine Sportsware, just to name a few. 

He wasn’t making Tiger Woods-like coin, but he was making enough to live comfortably and not have to work a 9 to 5 like most of his peers. Outside of snowboarding, the Sandy, UT, native was still dating his high school sweetheart, Kelli. 

All in all, life was good.

“I was living the ultimate lifestyle,” says Ostler, now 28. “I was doing what I wanted to do, the way I wanted to do it.”

But one winter night four years ago changed all that. .

On the eve of December 29, 2000, Ostler was riding Park City Resort’s half pipe for a photo shoot for a Quicksilver photographer. After a few hours of riding and shooting, Ostler decided to ride one last time before calling it a night. While attempting a frontside air, a stunt that was routine for Ostler, the unthinkable happened.  He lost control, fell 15 feet, head first into the hard ground.

“Instantly I knew my neck was broken,” Ostler recalled of the infamous night. “I could not move anything from the head down.”

Ostler’s fears of breaking his neck were verified when he finally made it to the hospital.  He had suffered a broken neck at the C-6 level.  He also lost some of the function in a few of his fingers.  The next 85 days were spent in the University of Utah Spinal Unit trying to recover from the devastating accident. 

Although doctors could not say what his chances were to recover, Ostler knew his chances weren’t good. “Initially, the mental part is really huge. Realizing I was never going to snowboard again, and maybe not even walk, most likely not. Just every day life changed.” 

With his world getting flipped upside down in the snap of a finger, Ostler struggled to figure out where to go from there. He had lost snowboarding, the sport he lived for and put food on his table. Just being able to do dance with Kelli, would no longer be possible. Everyday functions like brushing his teeth or using the restroom became challenges for him.

“Once I left the hospital, I realized this is real life now,” Ostler says, “I wasn’t in a hospital, where they were going to take care of me anymore. (pauses) I had to figure things out for myself.”

 

Tim Ostler’s life was at a crossroads. Down one path, Ostler could have given up, become depressed, and spent the rest of his life feeling sorry for himself, and nobody would blame him for that.  Down the other path, Ostler could pick himself back up, keep a positive attitude, and believe that he could still go on and live a happy meaningful life.  Ostler chose the latter.

While hospitalized, Ostler was introduced to a man named, Josh Waldron. Waldron, who had a similar injury years back, was encouraged to speak to Ostler by a family friend.  When Waldron walked into the room, Ostler noticed he had a cane and was limping.  But the fact that Waldron had some control of his legs was enough encouragement and motivation for Ostler alone.

“He (Waldron) was the first person I had met who told me I could walk again.  And I couldn’t believe this guy had been paralyzed was walking again,” Ostler said. “He told me not to listen to anything the people in the hospital said. That anything was possible.”   

Waldron referred Ostler to Leighton Weber, a Provo man who was responsible for a number of other paralyzed people walking (including Waldron) through a vigorous rehab regiment. Although the meeting made a lasting impression in Ostler’s mind, he still opted to go with a more traditional rehab process. 

But after 6 months of what Ostler calls “pointless outpatient rehab” and a quickly fading insurance policy, he finally decided to place the call to Weber. Ostler started working out with Weber in February of 2002 for two hours a day, five days a week. An hour workout consists of crawling hundreds of feet and lifting weights, while the other hour is dedicated to walking… that’s right, walking! 

With the assist of parallel bars, Ostler would walk the length of these bars (usually around 15 lengths).  It was not an easy process, but Ostler had goals he wanted to reach.

“I wanted to stand up when I married my wife Kelli, so I began working out,” says Ostler, who got engaged to Kelli a few months after the accident. “And by the time September rolled around, I was able to stand up for the entire ceremony.”

Adds his wife Kelli, “It was neat for all our family and friends just because we hadn’t seen him stand in a few years. It was special.”   

Though Weber’s program got results, Ostler stopped attending his sessions is Provo.  Ostler switched to Neuroworks (another physical therapy unit) upon learning that in his case, some of the strenuous work he was doing could possibly be harmful to his body.  Ostler and his wife started to question on whether all that work was worth it. Even though he had regained some of the muscles in his lower body, it was still a complicated process trying to walk.  It could take up to 20 minutes to walk just 5 feet.

Ostler could no longer give the same time commitment he could previously.  Ostler’s goals and passions changed.  Around the same time Ostler started working out at Neuroworks, he started to find other things in life he wanted to do besides walk.  He enrolled at Salt Lake Community College and started studying Graphic Design.  Ostler envisions himself designing websites and t-shirts for snowboarding and other outdoor companies. 

Just this year, Ostler joined the Utah United, (www.utahunited.com) a wheelchair rugby team.  It’s an activity that Ostler is completely dedicated to nowadays.  The team just finished off its inaugural season, but Ostler already is working out and getting ready for next season.  He is not bashful to promote his new sport. In fact, Ostler designs the uniforms and team apparel, and he is already talking to corporations about sponsoring his team.

“This is something I am totally excited about,” says Ostler, “I would encourage anybody to check it out.  And it is not what you think, this is a fast paced and physical sport.”  

 Besides wheelchair rugby, Ostler has recently taken up an interest in mono-skiing. With Ostler basically growing up in the mountains, it was just a matter of time till he would get the urge to go back.

“I was bored.  I really wanted to be back in the mountains doing something,” explains Ostler, “one day I was online and I came across this website where this guy was jumping 40-foot tables in one of these sit-skis, and that blew my mind.  I was like ‘holy cow’ I can get an adrenaline rush like I used to.”

In the winter of 2003, Tim Ostler decided to go mono-skiing in none other than, Park City Resort. His lessons were literally just feet away from the scene of the accident. For most people, going to a place that had changed your life in such an extreme manner, could be too difficult. But Tim does not see things that way.

“It just happened there, whatever,” said Ostler, “At least it wasn’t something stupid like a car wreck, or something that was out of my hands. I knew the inherit risk of the sport that I did.  I didn’t expect it to happen to me ever. But it did. So…life goes on.”

 It is that sort of positive attitude that has helped Ostler and Kelli get through this ordeal.  By all accounts, Ostler’s attitude has improved ever since the accident. Though he says that he rarely dwells on the accident, there are times where the reality of living in a wheelchair takes its toll. 

“I’m pretty used to being in a wheelchair,” says Ostler. “It’s a really uncomfortable position to be in. I have a lot of pain just sitting in a wheelchair everyday. I run into people who don’t know how to relate to me, try to open a door for me. And I do appreciate it, but I’m in a position to do all these things on my own. It’s not necessarily a slap in the face. But people got to know I am fully capable of everything except walking.”

There was a point in time where walking again was all that he focused on. With science and technology improving every day, the thought of Ostler abandoning his wheelchair one day is never out of the question. Bar that never happening, Ostler has learned to enjoy life with the cards he is dealt. 

And as for Kelli? She is just proud of him. She goes back to her wedding day when her husband rose to his feet.

“At that point it was really special to me, because it was so important to him,” says Kelli. “But truthfully now, it wouldn’t have made a whole lot of difference, because he’s the same kid.  I love him tall or short.”   

Published in the April/May 2005 edition of Utah Sports Magazine.