Georg Capaul took his legs for granted. The sturdy, Swiss-born ski coach had tromped up and down sizable hills all over the world during his 25-year career, working with dozens of top U.S. men and women. He strode energetically into each new morning and each fresh snowfall. He sometimes yodeled while setting up courses.
In June, Capaul had already supervised an early training camp and was looking forward to the rest of what was to be perhaps his most important ski season. As head coach for women’s technical events–slalom and giant slalom–he wanted his racers to be on every podium in this once-in-an-athlete’s-lifetime home Olympics.
Capaul was making breakfast at his home in northern New Hampshire, getting ready to report for jury duty, when the pain seared into the base of his spine and spread to his entire lower back. Capaul lay down on his bed, hoping it would pass. Over the next half-hour, he gradually lost the ability to move his lower body.
Just two weeks ago, Capaul took his first steps with the help of leg braces and crutches. He is planning to travel to Salt Lake City next weekend to watch several events. The toughest time he has had since that horrible morning in June, he said, was watching the Opening Ceremony on television.
The skiers describe Capaul as a great motivating force, a high beam he now turns on himself.
“All the things I preach, I’m being tested on,” Capaul, 52, said in a telephone interview last weekend. “Miracles happen, but I’m in for a long haul.
“I’ve always been good at pushing people to their maximum potential. When they thought they had reached the limit, I told them, `There’s more. You don’t know where the limit is. Let’s explore that together. We’ll see what it brings.”‘
Nothing could be more applicable to Capaul’s own situation. Although he has sensation in his legs and can feel heat, cold or a touch, he does not know how much movement he will eventually regain.
Capaul had tests at Dartmouth’s Hitchcock Hospital that revealed he had had a spinal infarction, or stroke. He began his rehabilitation with several weeks at an Atlanta hospital, then returned home, depressed and uncertain about how to proceed.
In October he began weekly sessions with Boston-area therapist Igor Burdenko, whose system emphasizes exercising in water. Capaul receives regular massage and acupuncture treatments, does some weightlifting and straps his feet into the pedals of a stationary bike he works with his hands, but he said the pool therapy has been the most valuable in building his flexibility and confidence.
Burdenko, who holds a doctorate in human performance and has worked with paraplegics and top athletes in many sports since he emigrated from the former Soviet Union, has known Capaul for 15 years.
“I believe he will walk again and he will ski again,” Burdenko said. “He is responding unbelievably well. He is a blessing to work with. He’s open to this, he’s focused, and he works so hard that he is sweating even when he’s wet. When we finish, we are both exhausted.”
Capaul and his wife of 24 years, Janet, have two children, Andrew, 15, and Emily, 12. He has refitted his car so he can drive and has continued to lecture at local schools and ski associations. He attended a U.S. team training camp in Colorado in October, watching the runs from a snowmobile alongside the course.
While the team was racing on the World Cup circuit in Europe, Capaul rose early to watch streaming video of the events on the Internet. He also stays in frequent phone contact, and the skiers say Capaul’s message is more powerful than ever.
“I miss his passion for the sport,” said Caroline Lalive, the U.S. team’s best all-around skier, who first worked with Capaul when she was 14. “He’s moved from being a hands-on coach to more of an encourager, someone behind the scenes.
“He’s there in our hearts. All the years, and everything he’s taught us, we have to draw on. Now it’s our turn to perform.”
Capaul, a pragmatic man, said he doesn’t dwell on the seeming injustice of being stricken when he had devoted his entire life to fitness.
“I don’t let myself go there because it always comes back in a circle,” he said.
But it sometimes works in reminding racers to keep their perspective. When U.S. skier Julia Mancuso called him this season, unhappy about a bad day on the slopes, he said, “Listen, should I tell you about things not going right? Do you want a lecture?”
“She said, `No, you’ve made your point,'” he recalled.
“They can do this without me,” said Capaul, who thinks all the top U.S. women are capable of wining medals at these Games.
“I know that. I prepared them well, and they’re ready to compete whether I’m there or not. They’re not going to fail because I’m not there.”
