Having the courage to take a chance!
Conference given by
Dean Bergeron

Introduction

Is it normal to be afraid of taking a chance? How do you know that the decision you are making is THE right one? Is living without risk necessarily a better life?

Before answering these questions, I'd first like to introduce myself and tell you about the events in my life that have helped me develop my views on risk and taking chances.

First part: My story

I was born in LaBaie in the Saguenay Lac St-Jean region. Despite appearances, I am a "bleuet," a blueberry, a little dark perhaps but that's alright. We all know that the darker berries are the best!!!

Like all young people my age, I started playing hockey very early. At 15 I had to make one of my most important decisions. I was drafted to play for the Cantonniers de l'Est in the Midget AAA Hockey League. I had to make a big decision: Leave my parents and take a chance at becoming a professional hockey player, or stay home and quietly continue to play just for fun. I spent months thinking about this, weighing the "pros" and "cons," until I finally decided to try and make my dream of becoming a hockey player come true. I dove right into the great sports adventure. 

After a year on the Midget AAA circuit, I was drafted by the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League's (QMJHL) Shawinigan Cataractes. And, once again, I had a decision to make. Taking a chance on a career in the QMJHL or going to college in the US. The QMJHL had the advantage of being the fast track to a career in the national league, while an American college would allow me to combine hockey with a good education. Which was THE right way to go? I finally opted for the QMJHL and joined the Shawinigan  Cataractes the following season.

It was the following year that my adventure went wrong. During a practice match, I was fighting for the puck with an opponent from the other team. In the heat of the action, I received a punch in the face and I lost my footing. I fell back and landed right on my head. My head was projected forward with such force that my neck gave way under the impact as I fell. Flat on the ice, I came to and I tried to get up. Nothing moved. I tried a second time and still my legs didn't move. That's when I realized that something very serious had happened.

The ambulance came. The attendants immobilized me right away and took me to the Shawinigan hospital. On arrival there, my condition was considered too serious and I was transferred to the hospital in Trois-Rivières. This trip was a real plunge into the fires of hell for me. I had the impression of living through a nightmare and I had but one wish: To wake up.

In Trois-Rivières, they were able to stabilize my condition so that my life was no longer in danger. Numerous x-rays of my spine confirmed what the doctors had suspected all along: A broken neck with spinal cord injury. I would never again play hockey, I had lost the use of my legs forever. 

After a complicated operation which consisted in replacing two cervical vertebrae with a bone from my hip and after having battled with paralysis of my digestive system, I was ready to begin my long rehabilitation, which would last the entire year.

It is often said that fear causes paralysis. I also think that paralysis causes fear. At the beginning of my rehab I was afraid of everything: Afraid to fall off my wheelchair, afraid of not being self-sufficient, afraid of losing my friends, afraid of this new life that was completely unknown to me. I was terrified of going out on the street, having fingers pointed at me, to be treated as a handicapped person. I was afraid of being perceived as a poor guy stuck in his wheelchair. No one would ever see me again as Dean Bergeron, hockey player. 

My life got back on track as soon as I decided to take a chance and DARE. I had to stop being afraid and find the courage to take charge of my life again, have the guts to take on my responsibilities as a man. The decision I made barely a year before had gone wrong, that was fate. but I had an obligation to get back on track, to take control of my life instead of it controlling me. During rehab, I took a chance. I fell on my face sometimes but every time this happened I realized that I did better on my next try. Let me tell you what happened to me when I left the rehab centre. 

I had seen some people in wheelchairs go up the escalator. I watched how they did it and it seemed simple enough. First, you position the small front wheels on a step. Then, while going forward a little, you place the back wheels on the next step. You grab the handrail and lean forward. That's all there is to it.

One fine Thursday night (don't ask me why I chose a Thursday night.), I went to the Place de la Cité mall in Quebec City and I headed for the escalator. Staying close by, I observed how easy it was for everyone to simply walk on and ride up. I stopped one of the people heading for the escalator indicating that it was my turn to go up. He glanced at me with a questioning look but I reassured him that I knew what I was doing.

So, I started for the escalator. I placed my front wheels on a step. I went on and placed my back wheels, but half way up the stairs I realized that I had forgotten one little thing that was absolutely crucial to the success of this task - to lean my body forward so as to transfer my body weight. I then tilted backwards. My wheelchair rolled down the escalator and as a reflex, I grabbed the handrails. My shoes and my bag went flying down the escalator. The man I had encountered just seconds before reappeared and asked if I needed help. I told him that there was an emergency button below the escalator that would stop it. He went down the stairs to look for it while I continued to hold on as best as I could. He came right back up to say he couldn't find the emergency stop. Big problems demand big solutions. I didn't have a choice; the only way out of this embarrassing situation was to go up the escalator on my butt. So, I sat down on a step, legs in front and I continued my way up. Once I got to the top, I could see that a crowd had gathered below to watch the show. They formed a half-circle at the bottom of the escalator. Someone had picked up my shoes and my bag for me.

It's hard for me to explain to you how ridiculous I felt. All those people watching me, they were undoubtedly wondering what in the world possessed me to go up on an escalator when there was an elevator just nearby. I TOOK A CHANCE. I fell. What do I do next? What did I learn from this experience?  I could do one of two things: never again put my wheels on an escalator, OR take a chance and try again, keeping in mind the lessons I learned. I believe that the second option allows you to go beyond your limits and enables you to accomplish great things.  By following this philosophy I learned to appreciate life with its challenges and its ups and downs.
 
I started wheelchair racing in 1989, just two years after my accident.  At the beginning, I didn't think it was possible to practice a "real" sport without the use of my legs. Of course, I knew that people in wheelchairs participated in certain sports but I thought that these were more for fun than what I had experienced as a hockey player. I was introduced to the sport of wheelchair racing by Pierre Pomerleau, who is still my personal coach today. Over the past fourteen years, I've participated in many international competitions, world championships and two Paralympic Games. I've won seven Paralympic medals and I still hold the world record for the 400 meters. 
 
Wheelchair racing was a real revelation for me. Not only did I learn that wheelchair racing is a "real" sport, but I found that racing is a real life-learning experience. The lessons I've learned helped me in my sports career, in my work and in my private life as well. I'd like to share some of these lessons with you.

Second part: How does an athlete deal with risk

Any athlete will tell you that you have to take some risks if you want to win, and wheelchair racing is no exception. Risking making a tight turn to gain a fraction of a second over your opponents; taking a chance to breakaway from the pack without knowing if your opponents can catch you; taking a chance by not using your breaks when you go down the hill at more than 70 km/h. These are the types of risk that a wheelchair racer must face. For us, these risks turn out to be opportunities rather than sources of danger. Nevertheless, the competitor doesn't just jump in with his eyes closed. I don't ride (not anymore anyway) at 70 km/h if I don't know the road ahead of me - that would be completely crazy.

So, how then does an athlete cope with risk? Planning, Preparation and Action.

Planning

1992 was a pivotal year for my career as a wheelchair racer. It was an important year, a year of the Olympics, where I had long dreamed to compete. I started racing in 1989. I was doing well and I had a promising future, so why worry? In the spring of 1992, a few months before the Games, tryouts were held to select the team of athletes that would represent Canada at the Games. I went to the trials. I competed in the events and after my last race the national team's trainer asked me to his office to tell me that. I wasn't selected for the team. What? Me? Dean Bergeron didn't make the team?  There must be a mistake! I was really angry but, in truth, I would say that I was more disappointed than mad. I would have to wait another four years before I could get another chance. How do you stay motivated for four years?

Once the dust settled a bit, my trainer and I sat down to discuss a training plan for the next four years. First, we set the long-term, medium-term and short-term objectives. We planned out the events where I would compete and we established a training schedule that would enable me to reach the objectives I had set. This plan helped me to stay motivated for four long years and it allowed me to monitor my progress. Planning is made up of several stages, (studying the opponents, surveying the courses, analyzing weather conditions) - all this in order to develop a winning strategy.

Preparation

Physical and mental preparation ensures that I can win a race when I'm at the starting line. If I go to a race with any doubts, it means that I am not adequately prepared. Good preparation will allow me to seize the opportunity when it presents itself. And it gives me the necessary confidence so that I can just go for it without any hesitation. A marathon, that's 42 kilometres, 2 hours of racing and 14,400 strokes. Can you imagine doing a marathon without preparing for it?

Action

It's no time to plan or prepare when you are at the starting line. This is the time to act and follow through with the strategy that you've planned and prepared for. You have to move forward and, most of all, don't hesitate. Hesitation can paralyze and often prevent us from seizing the opportunity when it comes along. 
  
What do you do when things go wrong?
I remember that shortly after my accident I went through a phase where everything was going wrong. My career as a hockey player, my plans to study medicine - all my dreams just disappeared overnight. I had to start all over again. The question that kept haunting me was "Why." Why me? Why did this have to happen to me? This question stayed with me for a long time during my rehabilitation, until one day I realized that I was going around in circles. I wasn't making any progress in my rehab, I lived in the past and I wasn't thinking about the present or the future. This period of questioning went on until one day I changed this famous "Why" to "How." How will I pick up the pieces? How will I continue my education? How will I become independent?  How will I dress myself? Eat by myself? Wash myself? I realized that the more I asked myself how, the more answers and solutions appeared. Sometimes I had to start over, sometimes I found the answer.

During my final preparation for my second Paralympic Games in Sydney, I  was experiencing all kinds of problems in my training; I had health problems; I wasn't recovering well; I had  trouble getting used to my new chair; in short, I was terribly anxious about the upcoming Games. Just before leaving for Sydney, I met Louis Garneau prior to a TV interview. I told him about my problems and my fears of not succeeding. Louis Garneau looked at me and said: "Dean, no matter what difficulty you might have over there, the only advice I can give you is to never give up." He went on to explain: "There are two reasons why you must never give up. The first is that there is something to learn from every race. And the only way to do this is to reach the finish line. The second reason is that the more you give up, the easier it becomes to give up." I experienced the second reason for myself that summer. When I saw a race wasn't going my way I left the track and parked my chair on the sideline. At the beginning I would quit the longer distances and then more and more often the shorter races as well. Louis Garneau's advice is one of the most practical that I have ever been given. No matter what project you start, you must always see it through to the end. 

So that it turns out well
An effective strategy: Make the most of your strong points
At the start of my career as a racer, I came up against a really tough opponent. His name was Clayton Gerin, a Canadian from Saskatchewan. Clayton is one of the top long-distance athletes in the world. He sets a constant pace for anyone who tries to follow him and he literally wears out his opponents.  I should explain an important principle of wheelchair racing, the principle of "drafting." It's pretty similar to bicycle racing and it consists of racers riding in single file one behind the other. The rider in front acts as a shield for those riding behind him. This means that the rider in front works harder than the one behind him, the second works harder than the one who is third and so on. While Clayton is renowned for his endurance, I am known for my acceleration. My strong point lies in being able to accelerate from an average speed to a higher speed very quickly. This ability sets me apart from my opponents. In my first races against Clayton, I would position myself next to him and try to beat him at what he does best. I lost every time. I started to beat Clayton the day I understood that I had to use my own strength and not his. So I started to position myself at the tail end of the pack and thus save as much energy as possible for my final acceleration just metres from the finish line.

Life has taught me something I would like to share with you. One victory that I'm most proud of is the first time I succeeded in blowing my nose all by myself. I remember all those times that I tried to catch this piece of tissue paper which kept slipping out of my hands every time. The paralysis in my upper extremities prevented me from holding on to this blasted piece of Kleenex. I kept telling myself that one day I would be able to do it. This victory wasn't much when you compare it to what I accomplished before my accident; it's nothing if I compare it to my world record for the 400m or to my Paralympic medals, but it all started with this one little victory. I could never have become independent, race a wheelchair, successfully finish my actuarial studies, have a job, a car, a house if I hadn't succeeded in blowing my nose. We have a tendency to forget our small victories thinking they are not important. But in my opinion, it's these small victories that allow us to find the courage and continue going forward.

Conclusion

Two weeks before my accident I was at my uncle's farm helping out with the hay. I was on the wagon at the back of the tractor pulling bales of hay into the press. I remember it was a sunny day and I was covered in sweat, watching my cousin drive the tractor. I was living a happy moment but I wasn't aware of that at the time. I didn't savour the moment.

Today I feel very lucky. Okay, I don't have my legs anymore to help my uncle on the farm and I sure had a lot of trouble putting the bale of hay in front of the house last Halloween. Nevertheless, I feel lucky. Lucky, because my accident helped me to see the other side of the coin and fully appreciate what life has to offer. I have a great house, a great car, a great job. I travel all over the world, I ski downhill and cross-country, I race, run marathons. We all have the ability to see the other side of the coin, it's up to us. Thank you!