THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, August 27, 1995 TAG: 9508250283
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 26 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY NANCY LEWIS, CORRESPONDENT
LENGTH: Medium: 83 lines
When Tara Chandler pops a wheelie, her grandma reacts in typical grandmotherly fashion.
She ``goes nuts when I jump a curb,'' said the 10-year-old, her face lighting up mischievously.
In all the ways that matter, Tara is no different than any other fifth grader: She's a speed demon on wheels, an unsinkable swimmer in pool or ocean, a fearless bodyboarder in rough surf.
The plucky Bay Colony girl is the embodiment of what is meant by the phrase, ``It's not handicapped, it's physically challenged,'' for this girl sees each new difficulty as a hurdle to clear rather than as an obstacle blocking her path.
Paralyzed from the waist down from a rare birth defect known as spina bifada, the lively pre-teen spins her wheelchair from kitchen to living room and back again just as handily as her unchallenged peers pirouette through their homes.
Her long, brown hair bounces and bobs while her flying hands and arms barely clear the doorjambs as she does errands for her mom.
``Want me to answer that?'' she asks when the phone rings.
``Shall I go get her?'' she wants to know when baby sister, Blair, wakes from her nap and starts fussing.
Tara holds the national record for club throw in Junior National Wheelchair Olympics.
She took two firsts and six seconds in field and track competitions held in Fort Collins, Colo., last month.
``It's like a mini baseball bat,'' Tara said of the club and she twirled an imaginary one over her head and pretended to let go.
When Tara's mom, Ellen Chase, watched her daughter careen full tilt down a hill during one of the championship wheelchair races, she reacted in typical motherly fashion: she got a little over-protective.
``I was afraid she'd fall, but then another parent said, `All kids fall - they have to fall sometimes,' '' Chase remembered.
And once she got past her fears, the rightfully proud mother got caught up in the competitive spirit of the races.
``It's so exciting when that gun goes off and they go - they're just flying. When she came over the finish line, I was in tears. She's not going to let her handicap get her down.''
Tara's spunkiness was apparent right from the start.
``She sat up early and started scooting around the floor'' on her arms and chest long before most babies learn to crawl on hands and knees, said Tara's mom.
By age 4, the feisty toddler was doing back flips into the water from the edges of swimming pools.
``People think I can't do it because of my back,'' said Tara, propping her elbows on the arm of a couch and leaning forward in her wheelchair to draw attention to the basketball-sized hump that protrudes at about waist level.
``Her back doesn't bend,'' explained Chase.
Tara's condition is the result of an improperly formed or fused spinal column.
The neural tube defect in the fetus occurs early during pregnancy and prevents the spinal cord from dropping completely down through the vertebrae.
The girl's mettle shines brightest when she competes, according to her mother, recalling a recent race during which one of the tires on Tara's racechair went flat and ``she just kept on going.''
Tara's father, Lance Chandler, is a runner and surfer, and he encourages his daughter in athletic pursuits.
Her stepfather, Gordon Chase, lifts weights and plays lacrosse, and he, too, is a ``big help'' when it comes to setting an example for Tara.
Tara is a student at Linkhorn Park Elementary School.
Just now, she thinks she'd like to become a physical therapist when she grows up, but, like most kids, her plans for the future are constantly in flux.
``I used to think I'd like to be an artist, but it changes,'' said Tara, propping her tipped head on cupped palms and looking up dreamily. ILLUSTRATION: Island Photography photo
Tara Chandler holds the national record for club throw in Junior
National Wheelchair Olympics.
by CNB