Hailey Danz

“Brace yourself. It’s going to be good.”
Diagnosed with bone cancer in middle school, Hailey Danz (BS13) had her leg amputated a few weeks into high school. She won her second silver medal in women’s triathlon at the Paralympic Games in Tokyo.

As told to Julie Deardorff

I don’t know if I actually enjoyed swimming, biking, and running when I first started 10 years ago. I do know I loved the Dare2Tri community [of triathletes with physical disabilities], so triathlon was at first just my vehicle for spending time with cool people. Then when I crossed the finish line of my first race, that feeling was so empowering and I gained so much confidence that I knew I wanted to keep doing it.

I pedal with one leg. My residual limb fits inside a housing affixed to the top of the bike to give me more leverage and allow me to get into a more aggressive, aerodynamic position.

I ran for eight years on a prosthesis with a circumductive (circular) motion. Even though it didn’t look pretty, my way of using it was incredibly economical. When I maxed out what could do with it, I switched to a new prosthetic knee. Because it’s significantly heavier than the old prosthetic, it took a really long time for me to trust it and build up the muscular endurance I needed to fully to kick it out. Now, I’m nowhere near my limits.

People think paralympics is a participation event, that anyone can do it. Actually, you have to put so much work into it, take risks, surround yourself with a support team, show up every day whether you want to or not, have faith in yourself, and be good enough to win. The real story is in the hard training and managing the psychology, nutrition, and physiology. Paralympians work just as hard as the Olympians—and we’re doing it with a physical disadvantage.

After surviving cancer, I instinctively knew that the decision to amputate my leg would lead to something great. I told my 14-year-old self, “Brace yourself. It’s going to be good.” It wasn’t until I got to college and started meeting people who didn’t know my background that I really began to process the trauma. It was the first time that I felt different and that my disability was part of me.

At Northwestern, not only was I was processing my identity as someone with a disability, I was also realizing I was gay. The disability seemed easier to work with, so I put my energy into that and put the other stuff on the back burner. There was more shame around coming out than around the disability.

I now feel a sense of confidence that I never felt before. Some of it comes from the consistency I’ve had in training to become a triathlete. But it’s also from being who I am and not having to hide any part of myself. I didn’t realize how much energy I was expending on that until I didn’t have to do it anymore. And waking up every day to do something I love—yeah, it’s amazing.

During the isolation of the pandemic, I didn’t feel like I was living. In Tokyo, I lived. I laughed until I was sore, cheered until I lost my voice, and cried until there was nothing left. And after the tough times we’ve all had since the pandemic, I can’t think of a more powerful gift.