Live Your Story:
Marilyn Green
Amputee Blade Runner
February 22, 2026 | Boise, Idaho
By: Marilyn Green
We all have those moments in life where we are about to willingly face something head on that we never thought we would experience in our life. For me, that moment happened in November of 2019 when I boarded a plane to Nashville, Tennessee by myself to compete in my first Ragnar Race. A team race that would take me and twelve Amputee Blade Runners from all over the country through 200 miles of Tennessee terrain.
Before I take you on that journey, let’s go back 29 years. I was a scared 13 year old driving up to an outdoor summer camp in New Hampshire designed just for kids with amputations. I was so nervous as I walked with my mom to the lake house, knowing she would be leaving me for two weeks by myself. I didn’t know anyone there and at this point in my life, I had never met another amputee. I was different from everyone I knew and I lacked confidence in every way.
When I entered the house that day, my life shifted. I looked around the room to find people who could relate to me and didn’t judge me for my physical differences. For two weeks, I got to know them and see a glimpse of their struggles. My roommate was missing both of her arms and legs and was younger than me, yet she had the most positive outlook on life. The camp was full of positivity and encouragement to grow. I learned skills I never thought I would. It truly changed my life, changed my story.
It was the perfect bubble and I knew when I went home it would still be hard to face the daily emotional and physical challenges that come with being an amputee. However, I knew that I had to be happy in my own skin and I genuinely wanted to be.
As a young girl, the voices I heard were those telling me I wasn’t good enough, I was different, I would never fit in, but the stares and whispers were the loudest of all. They truly hurt my heart and spirit. The heart is what beats, it’s what gives us life, determination, and drive. My heart had been broken, bruised, and trampled.
It’s truly amazing how life works, though. Amid all of the negative things, I know that God gave me a family and sent friends along the way that have seen past my physical differences to who I really am at the core. They have fought for, stood up for, believed in, and helped me. Every time there was something negative, their kindness and positivity mended my heart, little by little, and confidence began to grow within me. People can hurt us but luckily they can also heal us.
Two years after attending that life changing camp, I was in 8th grade and some friends asked if I wanted to join their team for a swim relay. My prosthetic at the time couldn’t get wet, so in order to swim, I had to take it off, exposing my stump. That brought so many insecurities to the surface for me. Middle school was hard enough! I was so scared, but they eventually talked me into it with a lot of encouragement.
On the day of the race the bleachers were filled with people and I was in tears. The swim coach came to tell me that my team was waiting. At that point, I had decided I couldn’t do it and was having a panic attack. He took me aside, looked me right in the eyes, and with conviction told me this was a make it or break it moment. I could let my fear of what others thought of me take over or I could choose to stand up for myself and be proud of what I could do. No one else could take my place on the team because it was too late. My team would have to forfeit if I didn’t swim. I’m grateful for his encouraging words because even though I still felt the same I was able to find the courage to get on the block and dive in. I swam as hard as I could. I remember taking a breath and opening my eyes toward the crowd—no one was there, the stands were empty. I wanted to feel invisible, so at that moment I envisioned it that way. When I finished, I came out of the water and the stands were actually full of people cheering. The swim coach along with my friends were there to help me out of the water and he said, “You did it. Don’t forget how this moment feels.” We won first place and a little bit of confidence was earned that day. The hardest things in life are what build us into who we become, they refine us. They become part of our story.
Again, there I was on a Saturday morning in November of 2019 and for the second time in my life I found myself surrounded by a group of amputees—this time in Tennessee running a Ragnar Race. Our team was organized by Amputee Blade Runners, an organization committed to sponsoring an amputee in every state by fitting them with a running blade at no personal cost.
As I set off on the first “leg” of the relay, the journey of my past year was whirling through my mind. It was less than a year ago, in January of 2018 when my brother-in-law and I had been talking about running prosthetics and why I didn’t have one. They are extremely expensive and insurance doesn’t view them as medically necessary. So, he went searching for a grant—which led to him discovering Amputee Blade Runners (ABR). We spent months preparing my application that included the completion of three 5k races to qualify—which was a big feat for me especially considering my prosthetic at the time wasn’t made for running. Before I knew it, I was in Savannah, Georgia with Ryan Fann, co-founder of ABR, getting fitted for a hybrid sports leg.
As I completed the first portion of the Ragnar race and climbed into the ABR team van, I felt that same spirit of understanding and belonging that had made such an impact on me all those years ago in New Hampshire. Each and every person on the ABR team had worked hard to overcome limitations, but no complaints were heard that day. We were out in a van for over 30 hours, running against the odds and overcoming life’s obstacles. But most of all, we were full of gratitude for an amazing organization that helped us become stronger, more confident, and gave us the chance to live a life without limitations.
Since that moment I have been able to go on and run marathons and other races that have pushed my physical and mental limits. I also have the privilege to mentor and teach others everyday to show up consistently—to be the main character in their story, the one who perseveres, overcomes, and encourages. Each experience I’ve had has created a confidence for me that I can do whatever I set my mind to even though I am different-abled and will always have opposition. As a mother of three daughters, my hope for them is that they can see what it means to rise above the hurtful comments and struggles of life and live a story they are proud of. I want them to know that tearing someone down and building someone up both have so much power. We get to choose how we use that power. Our differences are beautiful and inspiring. We live our own story when we see that these differences don’t disqualify us from living a full life but they are the very things we need to embrace it.
