Vancouver Sun

Women sharing a dream ‘grab life and run with it’

Blind triathlete, guide forge life-changing bond while training for Tokyo Paralympic­s

- DAN BARNEYS dbarnes@postmedia.com twitter.com/sportsdanb­arnes

In open water, they’re joined at the thigh by an $8 piece of rope.

On land, they ride a tandem bike, then run side by side, grasping opposite ends of a short, knotted tether.

Everywhere else, Lauren Babineau and Jessica Tuomela are joined by competitiv­e spirit, a willingnes­s to help and be helped, and an almost instantane­ous sisterhood.

Tuomela is a blind triathlete, Babineau is her guide. They’re training hard in Victoria in hopes of stepping onto a podium together at the 2020 Paralympic­s in Tokyo.

Their fledgling partnershi­p has produced a gold medal at a World Paratriath­lon Series race in Sarasota, Fla. in March and a fifth-place finish on Saturday in Iseo, Italy.

It’s a relationsh­ip like any other, and no other.

On one of their first outings, Babineau took Tuomela to a shooting range and handed her a rifle.

“I do things a little differentl­y and Jess has to do things differentl­y,” said Babineau. “So we’re kind of creating this path together and it’s not typical. Far from it. But it’s a lot of fun and hard work along the way.”

Babineau helped Tuomela hold and sight the firearm, Tuomela pulled the trigger.

“I probably was more careful with that thing than people who can see,” said a chuckling Tuomela. “I always asked, ‘Is everyone behind me?’”

It’s easy to get behind a feelgood story that has as much to do with the human condition as athletic goals.

“Lauren is all grab life and run with it and I’m much the same way,” said Tuomela. “We connected over that.”

There was a deeper personal connection too, one rooted in self-image.

Tuomela, a 34-year-old from Sault Ste. Marie, lost her sight at age three to retinal blastoma, a form of cancer. Radiation treatment stunted the growth of her right cheekbone, leaving her right eye in shadow. At age 16, she turned down an offer of free reconstruc­tive surgery.

“I remember asking if there was any functional reason for the surgery,” she wrote. “The answer was no. So, my answer was no. That was my choice. I chose to live with my own face, despite the social repercussi­ons.”

From 2007-17, Babineau lived through an eating disorder that whittled her down to just 89 pounds and put her in hospital. After she received the profession­al help needed to recover, her dream of competing at the Tokyo Olympics as a triathlete morphed into this current shared pursuit.

“I had to become whole myself before I could give myself to anybody else,” she said. “But in that transition, I was able to find my strength, and now I’m able to help Jess, and I understand the challenges she’s living with. If I wasn’t as strong as I feel right now, I wouldn’t be able to be there for Jess the way I have to be there for Jess. Because she literally is putting her life in my hands on a daily basis.”

Tuomela swam sprint races at previous Paralympic­s, but paratriath­lon swims are 750 metres in open water.

“For me, it’s a very strange experience of sensory deprivatio­n and overload, all at the same time. I’m completely blind, so I don’t get any kind of light or shadow.

“When I first got in, I was overwhelme­d by how silent it was. There was just nothing there. The only thing I hear is Lauren blowing out air. I can hear her bubbles.”

She has since started paying attention to changes in water temperatur­e and wave direction. And fish.

“I can smell them, so they’ve got to be there. There are certain spots that smell more fishy,” she said with a laugh. “It’s just one of the things I pay attention to. I can’t talk to Lauren, my face is in the water. So I smell fish.”

They swim like birds fly, in a vee. The rope is tied around Babineau’s upper right thigh, Tuomela’s left. Babineau plows the water, with Tuomela tucked under her right armpit.

“There is no personal space or bubble at all. We are one,” said Babineau. “With every left stroke, I can feel her. She’ll kind of bump off my wet suit and she can kind of see where I am. We have a really good rhythm once we get going, but we hit each other sometimes, for sure.”

The bike presents another challenge.

“I’m her eyes, I was her hands, her ears,” said Babineau. “I have to corner safely. I have to watch our speed, think ahead, anticipate the traffic. I have to worry about the drain cover that’s ahead or gravel on the road. There’s a curve coming up and I want to get us in the right gear. I want to brake before the red light. And I’m saying all this out loud so Jess has a visual of what’s happening around us, where she has to put her effort, and how to lean her body. It’s a lot happening at one time.”

They train together for at least 20 hours weekly. They constantly talk and text, and regularly have dinner at each other’s homes.

“We’re like sisters now,” said Babineau.

They met in late 2017, a year after Tuomela performed well at a talent ID camp in Victoria and quit her full-time job as a registered massage therapist in Ontario to chase the Paralympic dream.

It’s costly. She receives about $1,000 monthly in carding support, making ends meet by living modestly.

“I’m in my mid-30s and I have a roommate. You make sacrifices.”

Babineau crams training, competing in half-Ironman races and helping Tuomela train around a full-time job in sales for an outdoor advertisin­g company.

“I get stressed out some days because I take five hours a day to get all my training and Jess’ training done, and that’s away from work. … But I couldn’t picture it any other way, really. It has now become part of my journey.”

 ??  ?? Blind triathlete Jessica Tuomela, left, and guide Lauren Babineau have developed a special relationsh­ip. “We’re like sisters now,” says Babineau.
Blind triathlete Jessica Tuomela, left, and guide Lauren Babineau have developed a special relationsh­ip. “We’re like sisters now,” says Babineau.
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