Strength from My Faith

By Rulon Gardner, Afton, Wyoming

As appeared in

All my life, it seems, folks have been telling me what I can't do. In school, my learning disability kept me from picking up things as quickly as the other students. On the playground, I was the biggest, slowest kid. No one thought I could ever be an athlete—except for my mom and dad, who were always telling me that with prayer and persistence I could find the strength to do anything.

Maybe that's why I was always pushing myself. I found a sport where my 286 pounds were an asset, wrestling, and I took it all the way to the Sydney Olympics in 2000. Naturally I was the underdog, but I made it to the final round and faced the best in the world, the legendary Russian Alexander Karelin, undefeated in 14 years of competition.

I had an older brother, Ronald, who died when I was eight. I'd win this medal for him. "Rulon doesn't stand a chance," the commentators said. "He might as well go home before he gets hurt." I stood alone on the mat and looked Karelin in the eye. You can do it! I shouted at myself silently. And I did. I beat him. I came back to my parents farm in Afton, Wyoming, with a gold medal and the champion's belt.

I'd reached the pinnacle, right? But no, I kept looking for new challenges, for other ways to show the world, "Look what I can do!" Afton, in Star Valley, where the Grand Tetons taper into the wooded peaks of the Salt River Range, was just the place for it. I gunned my Jeep around mountain curves, the closer to the edge the better. I raced my four-wheeler through the forests. I pulled stunts with my snowmobile on frozen lakes. I was always testing my limits—and maybe those of the people around me too.

Last February 14, I did my morning workout, then met up with my buddies Danny and Trent for a big lunch. It was about 25 degrees, and the winter sunlight sparkled on the deep snowdrifts that blanketed Afton. "Perfect day for snowmobiling," I said, pushing my empty plate away. "We've got four more hours of sunlight. Who wants to have some fun?" We got our gear and by 1:30 we were roaring through the woods, taking deep gulps of cold air and letting civilization disappear behind us as we climbed into the mountains on our snowmobiles.

Around 3:30, Danny said he'd had enough. "Gotta go. Can't miss my daughter's basketball game. Call me later." Trent mentioned heading in too. "Are you kidding, man?" I exploded. "We've still got to tackle Wagner Mountain!"

I revved my motor and shot uphill. The snowmobile slid and I braced with my feet. At the top, I looked over my shoulder for Trent. He was nowhere to be seen. I guess he gave up, I thought. I'll just take a look around before I turn back. I'd never been up here before. I explored the ridge, loving the spectacular view of Star Valley spreading out below. I called Danny on my cell phone. "I'm on top of the world!" I shouted. "I'll get Trent and head down in a few minutes. Let's meet for dinner after the game."

I swigged the last of my Gatorade and turned back. I found Trent's tracks and followed them. It was 4:30 now. The sun had started to dip under the ridgeline, casting long shadows on the snow. Man, these are my tracks, I realized, not Trent's! I took out my cell phone to call him, but now that I was off the peak, I couldn't get a signal.

I wasn't far from the Salt River, which winds down into Star Valley, carving a deep gully in the mountainside. I'll bet he's checking out the gully, I thought. Its slopes were awesome for snowmobiles. I drove down into the gully. No sign of Trent. The river flows back to Afton, I thought. Might as well follow it home. Trent'll get back on his own.