Just another view
Associated Press / Alamy Stock Photo. After a life-altering accident, Tricia Downing’s athletic mettle propelled her to a new life in para-sports
Tricia Downing, a dedicated cyclist, was out on a training ride when she was hit head-on by a car, paralysing her from the chest down at 31 – just as she was on the verge of a major national breakthrough.
Speaking to The 1v1 Project, Tricia discusses the profound mental work of rebuilding her identity post-accident and how her ‘Plan B’ mindset – a tool honed as a lifelong athlete – became key to her recovery.
“Recovery isn’t linear,” Tricia explains. “You kind of learn to figure out different coping skills along the way, and you just have to be patient with yourself because it doesn’t happen quickly or easily.
“You have to be able to go through Plan A, B, C, D and E, and even more, if that’s what it takes. I’ve pretty much found a way to do everything I’ve wanted since I was injured.”
In a world that often sees disability as limitation, Tricia has spent over two decades proving that adaptation is so much more than survival – it’s a process of discovering capabilities you never knew existed.
“You have to be able to go through Plan A, B, C, D and E, and even more, if that’s what it takes”
Competitive spark
Tricia’s path to competitive cycling was anything but direct. Her mother, who couldn’t swim herself, insisted all four children learn for safety reasons. What started as reluctant swimming lessons at seven became the foundation for a lifelong relationship with sport.
“My first time in the pool was not good. I really hated it, and I wanted out,” Tricia remembers. But when she returned the following summer, everything changed. “I just kind of took to the water like a fish.”
Success in breaststroke lit something inside her. “It showed me that hard work pays off, and that competition is fun, especially when you’re winning.”
From swimming came gymnastics, which she loved even more. But at almost 5’11”, the sport that captivated her had to give way to reality. College brought diving, where she walked on to the team and worked her way from fourth place to second by her sophomore year.
After transferring and quitting sports entirely, it was an internship at the Olympic Training Centre that introduced her to cycling. “I had always used my bike for transportation. I didn’t even know it was a competitive sport.”
But when she discovered it, she was all in. Track cycling led to road racing, criteriums every weekend, and that burning goal to reach nationals. She was earning points to upgrade from category three to two when the accident happened.
Tricia discovered a passion for competitive cycling, and was working towards her goal of competing at nationals when the accident happened
Ten seconds
It was a training ride that started like any other. On 17 September 2000, Tricia left home with no idea that an end-of-summer workout would instantly alter the path ahead.
“It took me less than 10 seconds to become paralysed and have my entire life change,” she reflects. “I never expected when I left for that ride that I wouldn’t return to my house, sleep in my bedroom again, walk, or jump on a bike. None of those things were on my mind that day.”
The physical recovery – three and a half weeks in ICU and just over three months in rehab, learning transfers and adapting to a new body – was just the beginning.
“We have an ableist society, right? We see disabilities as a negative thing,” Tricia explains. “I had a lot of that internalised ableism, because you’re conditioned to believe that a disability is a bad thing.
“Part of the mental work of coming back from an injury like that is to realise that disability is just another way of living. It’s just another view of the human condition.”
Associated Press / Alamy Stock Photo. Tricia qualified for the Hawaii Ironman World Championship twice
But Tricia had something many newly injured people don’t: a support system of disabled athletes. Before her accident, she had been a tandem pilot – a sighted cyclist who rides at the front of a two-person bike with a blind partner – and had competed at the 1998 World Championships for the Disabled, where she met amputees, athletes with cerebral palsy, and hand cyclists.
“I had an automatic support system. I had a whole team of disabled athletes to turn to, as well as the awareness that sport didn’t have to end for me because I was paralysed. I just had to figure out what I wanted to do next.
“I can’t imagine my recovery without sport,” Tricia adds. “I was up and down on a roller coaster for at least a good first five years. But I had those skills of knowing that when Plan A doesn’t work out, you just jump to Plan B. That’s part of the athlete mindset. All of that together gave me what I needed to succeed.”
“I can’t imagine my recovery without sport”
Ultimate pivot
Tricia knew exactly what she wanted to do. Five months after leaving the hospital, she completed her first half marathon. It wasn’t just about racing – it was about reclaiming her identity as an athlete and proving to herself that adaptation was possible.
“I went to one of the best spinal cord rehab hospitals in the world, and they had a great recreational therapy department,” she explains. “My rec therapist said to me, ‘You came in here an athlete; I’m going to make sure you leave here an athlete.’”
She tried hand cycling first, but found it emotionally difficult being at bike races. “It was hard on my heart. It was really depressing to be at the bike races without being able to be on a bike.”
“My rec therapist said to me, ‘You came in here an athlete; I’m going to make sure you leave here an athlete’”
Tricia pivoted to triathlon – swimming backstroke because freestyle was too difficult with paralysed legs, hand cycling for the bike portion, and racing chair for the run. She gravitated toward Iron distance events: 140 miles powered entirely by her arms.
“For me, I just liked the challenge of it, and I liked the endurance part. I’m more of an endurance athlete than a sprinter.”
And the triathlon community welcomed her differently than cycling had. “People were actually supportive during the race. When I started triathlons, there weren’t really a lot of disabled athletes doing them. I was kind of an anomaly, and people really were cheering for me when I was on the course.”
Tricia, an endurance athlete at heart, found a new community in triathlon, racing handcycle and chair in gruelling Iron distance events
Badass philosophy
Success in para-sport demanded a complete recalibration of what strength meant – both physical and mental.
“Physical strength is super important, not just for sport, but in daily life,” Tricia explains. “If you’re doing transfers, if you’re pushing yourself around with your arms all day, you have to be strong. It’s almost like you’re always an athlete if you’re using a wheelchair.”
But the mental demands run deeper. In a society that views disability through a lens of pity or inspiration, maintaining self-worth becomes its own daily competition.
“You always need to have this mental strength that other people don’t need in the same way,” she says. “Even if that person doesn’t believe in me, or thinks my life isn’t worth it, you have to be able to talk yourself into saying, ‘Yeah, my life is absolutely worth it. And I’m kind of a badass.’”
“My life is absolutely worth it. And I’m kind of a badass”
The para-sport community – fiercely sympathetic and ruthlessly driven – reflects this reality.
“It’s cutthroat,” Tricia admits. “We’re all used to overcompensating for having a disability within the broader community. The rigour, the competitiveness, the quality – it’s all still there. We know who our competitors are, and we want to be at the top.
“But it’s also supportive, because we’ve all been through the same kind of things. We’ve all dealt with the discrimination and negative stereotypes. And we’ve all dealt with a body that’s not always reliable. We learn to navigate those frustrations and difficulties together.”
Visibility gap
Twenty-five years after her accident, Tricia sees progress in how para-sport is perceived, but knows there’s still work to be done.
“People often think that as a para-athlete you just sign up and go to the Paralympics,” she says. “I wish people understood that the Paralympics are on par with the Olympics, and that Paralympians work as hard as Olympians to get to the top of their sport. Often even harder, because of all the additional challenges.”
“I wish people understood that the Paralympics are on par with the Olympics”
The solution, she believes, lies in visibility. “If you actually sit down and watch para-athletes compete, that will change a lot of perceptions. You can see it’s cutthroat, high level, difficult – people are doing some pretty amazing things.
“The more we promote para-athletes and what they’re doing, that respect will grow,” she adds. “I’m seeing it in women’s sports. It’s so exciting to watch the women’s sporting movement really start to gain attention and work towards that equity. I think para sports will follow.”
For Tricia, who lacked visual examples of people like herself on television growing up, representation matters deeply. “When I was younger, I didn’t see people like me. I was fortunate I had that experience as a tandem pilot before I got hurt. A lot of people in the hospital didn’t have that to be hopeful for.
“Visibility is everything. Once you start seeing and understanding what’s possible, your whole view changes.”
Having competed at the Rio 2016 Paralympics, Tricia champions the solution to the visibility gap: showing people the dedication and high-level competition that para-athletes achieve
Finding a way
Tricia’s story is about the fundamental human capacity to rebuild, reimagine, and refuse to accept limitations as permanent.
“There is life after or beyond a disability,” she says. “Really, we’re capable of so much more than we give ourselves credit for. Sometimes it takes being pushed to find out what you’re capable of.
“When things happen – and they do – there are ways to overcome them, to break barriers, and to build yourself up to be stronger.”
For Tricia, resilience means “keeping going when things get difficult, even when there are barriers in front of you, finding a way over, around, under, whatever it takes to get beyond it. There’s always going to be more than one way to achieve the goal. If something doesn’t turn out the way you want, pivot and figure it out.”
That’s why her message to her younger self is simple: “Keep dreaming, and keep believing that you belong on the top of the podium. That you can get there if you just keep moving forward.
“Give yourself the opportunity to stretch and believe.”
