# I Can Only Imagine



## GSMAN (May 22, 2004)

A buddy sent me this video today and it was such a blessing. Hope it works.


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## Mrs Backlasher (Dec 19, 2004)

It worked for me. AWESOME! Hey, I'm not supposed to cry at work!

What a blessing. Thank you.


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## GSMAN (May 22, 2004)

Sorry, just noticed this had been posted in TTMB.


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## Mrs Backlasher (Dec 19, 2004)

A few will only see it on this forum. Don't want to miss anyone!


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## Stuart (May 21, 2004)

Oh man. What's this watery stuff in my eyes?


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## clouser (Jun 14, 2006)

Here's the full story on Rick and Dick Hoyt:

Strongest Dad in the World

[From Sports Illustrated, By Rick Reilly]

I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay 
for their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots.

But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck.

Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in 
marathons. Eight times he's not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a 
wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars--all in the same day.

Dick's also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back 
mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. on a bike. Makes taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?

And what has Rick done for his father? Not much--except save his life.

This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when Rick was 
strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain-damaged 
and unable to control his limbs.

``He'll be a vegetable the rest of his life;'' Dick says doctors told 
him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. ``Put him in an 
institution.''

But the Hoyts weren't buying it. They noticed the way Rick's eyes 
followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate. ``No way,'' Dick says he was told. ``There's nothing going on in his brain.''

"Tell him a joke,'' Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a 
lot was going on in his brain.

Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by 
touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to 
communicate. First words? ``Go Bruins!'' And after a high school 
classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, ``Dad, I want to do that.''

Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described ``porker'' who never ran 
more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he 
tried. ``Then it was me who was handicapped,'' Dick says. ``I was sore for two weeks.''

That day changed Rick's life. ``Dad,'' he typed, ``when we were running, 
it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!''

And that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving 
Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape 
that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon.

``No way,'' Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't quite a 
single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few 
years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway, then 
they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they ran another 
marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following 
year.

Then somebody said, ``Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?''

How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since he 
was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick 
tried.

Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour 
Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't you think?

Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your own? ``No way,'' he says. 
Dick does it purely for ``the awesome feeling'' he gets seeing Rick with a 
cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.

This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston 
Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best 
time'? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992--only 35 minutes off the world 
record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time.

``No question about it,'' Rick types. ``My dad is the Father of the 
Century.''

And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a 
mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his arteries 
was 95% clogged. ``If you hadn't been in such great shape,'' one doctor told him, ``you probably would've died 15 years ago.''

So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's life.

Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every > weekend, including this Father's Day.

That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants 
to give him is a gift he can never buy.

``The thing I'd most like,'' Rick types, ``is that my dad sit in the 
chair and I push him once.''


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