Time on the water has changed Joannah Whitney's story.
Twice a week, the 65-year-old rower points a single scull upstream on the Connecticut River, pulling the oars against the current. She uses just her torso and arms to propel the boat across the water.
Whitney started rowing more than a decade after she was first diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Her illness by then had progressed to the point where she needed help doing basic tasks.
"It can feel like just a march of loss, losing this, losing that," she explained. "You get this constant message of, 'Now you can't do this, and now you can't do that.'
On the water, it's just her and the river.
The illness even ended Whitney's career as a field archaeologist, but she said learning to navigate this river and all it dishes out was transformative. One day, she got stuck in a log jam, but she found her way out.
"When I'm out here on the river … there's a long experience of my body meeting challenges," she said. "And that skill of figuring out, really opens up a space of believing a different story."
There was a time when she wasn't sure what her story would be. At one point, she had to relearn how to sit up in bed, how to put on her socks and shoes. Now she rows nearly four miles twice a week, and sometimes as far as eight.
Whitney rows out of a boat house in Holyoke, Mass., which runs a state-funded adaptive rowing program.
Stephanie Moore, the executive director of Holyoke Rows, is a former college rowing coach who used to focus on speed and performance. Now, she prioritizes getting anyone who wants to row out on the water.
Moore works with adaptive athletes, who are individuals with disabilities. Most of her rowers use lightweight, sleek racing boats, outfitted with pontoons for stability.
Moore tries not to coddle anyone.
"Let people push their limits," Moore said. "And I think if you can give them a lighter boat and they can feel the speed, they're going to work harder and go fast. It's more fun."
Back on the river, the wind is up, and the water is getting rougher. Whitney welcomes it.
"I love that feeling of being physically tested." she said. "I can really feel the strength in my body working against the challenge of the river."
She leaned forward, arms outstretched, getting ready to drop the oar blade into the water.
"I can move this boat through anything," she said, pulling the oars back hard. "So, it's this right here. That is what I love."
The river has taught her that she can meet challenges under her own power.
"It's not mediated by somebody else helping me or altering the world in a way that they think is going to make it more accessible," she said.
And on shore, that feeling stays with her.
Back on the dock, with a bit of help, she gets into her wheelchair.
"Whatever's going on, whatever the challenges, I'm going to be able to get through it," Whitney said. "And I take that with me."
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