Scott Rigsby didn't notice the wide-eyed little girl who stared as he hoisted his suitcase off the baggage claim carousel. He had flown into Lambert Airport in St. Louis on Friday morning to meet Scott McQuay, organizer of the Run for God race in Cape Girardeau the next day.
From behind her mother's hip, the girl's eyes followed him as he ambled off across the terminal, carrying the bag that held his "running legs." She wasn't the only one who noticed. Barrel-chested and 6-foot-2, Rigsby cuts an imposing figure, with a muscular neck and thick shoulders.
From the knees up, he's built like a tight end. From the knees down, he's built like the Terminator. The girl was staring at the way he walked on the two titanium rods sticking out the bottom of his pleated khaki shorts.
McQuay greeted Rigsby as he picked up one of the suitcases to show him to the car.
"I'd have been surprised if you showed up in long pants," McQuay said. "Every picture I see of you you're wearing shorts."
"I always wear shorts because my legs don't get cold," Rigsby joked in his south Georgia drawl.
That characteristic optimism is part of what led him to become a motivational speaker after becoming the first double amputee to complete an Ironman Triathalon on prosthetic legs. McQuay had booked him to speak to the public Friday night and to accompany the participants in the Run for God 5k on Saturday, most of whom had never completed a race before.
"We all start out with limitations," McQuay said. "The first time I went out to prove to the world that I was a runner and that I could do this, I made it one block before I just died."
But being a marathoner, McQuay is quick to admit his unusual love of adversity.
"The hills are our friends," he says with a smile. It's the time-honored mantra of many Cape Girardeau runners.
"Our race is about helping people realize that God has given each one of us strength that we are only able to access in times of dire struggle, and that's why Scott's the perfect speaker for us, because his message is all about finding your way to endure."
Charles Atwood is a living testament's message of endurance. He is a member of the program Teen Challenge, a religious drug and alcohol addiction treatment program that he has been participating in for six months. Atwood said this is the first time he's participated in the Run for God 5K.
"The best part was the fellowship, just being part of the community. I haven't been a part of the community in a long time because I was pulled down by drugs and alcohol. That's why I'm at Teen Challenge now," Atwood said.
A group of people holding "Teen Challenge" posters stood at the finish line of the race Saturday, encouraging and cheering the participants.
Atwood was able to run with Rigsby during the race and said he was inspired to keep going after seeing him.
"I ran next to him for a minute. It was very inspiring. He is awesome; he's a beast," Atwood said.
At lunch on the way to Cape Girardeau, Rigsby explained to McQuay the journey that led him through "the pit" and across the finish line of the Ironman.
"Some people want to be doctors or lawyers, but as an 18-year-old kid, I thought I'd have the first two years of college to figure it out," Rigsby said. "I didn't think that two months after graduation my whole world would be turned upside down."
He pulls up his senior picture on his iPhone, showing a younger, clean-shaven Scott Rigsby -- the Rigsby that played sports and toyed with aspirations of designing sports apparel. But riding in the back of a flatbed pickup on the way home from a long day working for the Camilla, Georgia, Housing Authority, a passing semi-truck caused the vehicle to swerve, throwing Scott up under the truck's wheel-brace.
"August 23, 1986, I got caught up in the wheels of the truck I was riding in. The Georgia State Highway Patrol said I got dragged for 334 feet," he said with the flat, practiced composure of someone who's lived through a traumatic accident and been made to recount it time and time again.
The doctors salvaged his left leg, but the injury plunged Rigsby into what he refers to as "the life of a career patient."
Six weeks after getting his leg removed, Rigsby was back to running. However, finishing school proved to be a more strenuous process.
"It took me seven years to complete a four-year degree," he explained. "I was either in class or in surgery."
The constant surgical cycle led to a three-year addiction to prescription painkillers. An undiagnosed traumatic brain injury led to depression. By age 30, he found himself adrift in life. By Christmas 2005, he said his desire to continue had withered.
"But when you're hurt, devastated, at the bottom of your barrel, all you can do is take that next breath," he said.
Runner Joy Walters empathized with Rigsby's message, and at the race Saturday remained in awe about how God had led her to that path.
Walters attended Rigsby's lecture Friday night, bought his book, and was able to speak with him afterward at the signing.
"I started reading his book, and he elaborated on everything he went through and it was just amazing to me. And then on top of that he has an older brother who is severely handicapped, and he said he was his main inspiration because he can't run or anything, so it was just really cool," she said.
Walters said she had been through some hard times the past year, and hearing Rigsby speak resonated with her.
"I started with this program, made some amazing friends, and this morning I got up and I couldn't believe I was here, I mean it's very emotional because I knew it was through God," Walters said.
To Walters, the most rewarding part of the 5K was the realization the day wasn't really about the running. She said it was the opportunity for people to share their story, and that if a person is open to it, God will use them to share that message "no matter what it is."
Scott McQuay said a preacher helped him understand how to let God help him let go.
"He told me I could either focus on my problems or focus on what I wanted to do," he said.
Rigsby said he liked the idea of the Run for God because it stressed the importance of focusing on constructive endurance and not being afraid to start small.
"The absolute best thing that can happen in a race is standing at the starting line. Because nothing has happened yet," he said. "Bad things are going to happen guaranteed, but somebody asked me one time what my definition of tough is, and I told them: just being able to take the next breath."
tgraef@semissourian.com
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