“AT ABOUT 20 MILES YOU HIT A WALL.” The athlete pauses, staring pensively through the immense glass wall of the Winter Garden; south across the river toward Canada. His thoughts drown in the zip-zop of ratchets and the whizzing of free-wheeling gears. It’s eight in the morning, the day before the Detroit Free Press Marathon, and the Achilles Freedom Team of Wounded Veterans is hard at work prepping their handcycles for tomorrow’s run. Corporal Justin Gaertner, USMC, a young marine with boyish good looks, spiky ginger hair and a patchwork of military tattoos, rests on his cycle after a quick shakedown. He wears two prosthetics above the knee, but you probably wouldn’t know it if you saw him on the street. His left arm is still physically recovering, only recently gaining enough strength to row the gears without taping his hand to the grip.
Justin is humble. He doesn’t see himself as courageous. However, surrounded by the flurry of activity, it’s obvious that his uncommon courage is a trait each and every one of the athletes share. These are men who know comebacks. It’s why they ride. It’s also why Chevy chose to help bring them here, to Detroit. To a city that knows what it means to be down and what it takes to rise again. Surveying the hardworking riders scattered amongst the oddly out-of-place palm trees of the Winter Garden, in the shadows of the aptly named Renaissance Center, the home of Chevrolet Headquarters, it quickly becomes clear that no matter what Justin says, there are no walls here.
THIS ISN’T THE FIRST TIME THE ACHILLES FREEDOM TEAM AND CHEVROLET HAVE CROSSED PATHS. In 2009, Chevy was working closely with Cell Phones for Soldiers and the Travis Manion Foundation, but they wanted to do more. So when word got out about the Freedom Team’s participation in marathons across the country, Chevy jumped at the chance to help. Most visibly with the contribution of a new Silverado Heavy Duty pickup and a national television ad honoring the athletes during the 2010 Army-Navy Game. Given that Chevy’s military tradition goes back nearly a century, from before World War II’s Arsenal of Democracy to today’s GM Military Discount, there’s little surprise that they’ve gone all in with Achilles.
Founded in 1983 by Dick Traum, the first man to complete the New York City Marathon — or any marathon — with a prosthetic leg, the original Achilles Track Club was created to enable people with all types of disabilities to participate in mainstream athletics. In their words, “to restore sense of mission, enhance self-esteem and lower barriers to fulfilling life.” It’s a noble goal, but one that really came into focus with the influx of wounded veterans from Afghanistan and Iraq. The flood of injuries was overwhelming the system, and the troops needed a way to move beyond the struggles of their individual situations. Out of this adversity, in 2004, the Freedom Team of Wounded Veterans was born.
Some of the athletes run. Most handcycle. They are introduced to handcycling early in recovery, either at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in the East or at Balboa Naval Hospital in the West. From there, Achilles provides the support and training to take on a new challenge: 26.2 miles of blood, sweat and gears. That’s where Chevy shines, the Silverado Heavy Duty hauling handcycles to and fro across the country — just the right kind of support to get the right hardware where it’s needed most. For today, that place happens to be right here in Detroit.
IT’S 5:00 A.M. IT’S DARK. IT’S COLD. AND, FRANKLY, IT’S ELECTRIC. 10,000 runners, an epic event in any city, let alone Detroit, form up in a massive snake behind the starting line. At its head, rock music pounds from massive concert speakers, spotlights stab the sky and steam pours in thick columns from street grates as the handful of Achilles riders coast their handcycles into position. The intensity is evident. Burning from their faces; their eyes. Justin stares intently at the road ahead, completely in the moment. Others gnash gum and shake the chill out of their arms, checking their handcycles in practiced pre-race ritual. A moving prayer issues from the speakers. A race official flicks on the digital starter clocks. Suddenly, time freezes, as if mired in molasses. 3… 2… 1…
At the klaxon the riders leap ahead, tearing en echelon into the darkness, leaving the bright lights and enthusiastic cheers of the starting line behind. They dash through the streets. Over the bridge at sunrise. A brief Canadian visit, not long enough to stamp a passport. Then back through the tunnel beneath the turbulent gray waters of the Detroit River, emerging into tentative morning sunlight beneath Chevrolet Headquarters in the Renaissance Center.
Sprinting through downtown, 20 miles comes and goes. Some riders slow, visibly straining with effort. Pushing deeper into themselves with each turn of the crank, driven on by the cheers of the ever-growing crowds. Standing at the thunderous finish line, where the klaxon sounded just hours before, the first man appears through the steam in the distance. Then another. And another. One by one they slip across the finish line into the heady reality of victory.
Justin arrives mid-pack, and coasts to a shaky halt. He tears his helmet off revealing a sweaty spike of close-cropped ginger hair and a broad, exhausted smile. In the heat of the moment, Achilles crew members slip a medal around his neck and press water into his excited hands. No walls. No stopping. No giving up. Just one more successful story in the Achilles Freedom Team book. And just one more example that, from one challenge to the next, Chevy Runs Deep.
Courtesy of Chevrolet
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