Hearing about Matt’s struggles to enter buildings on campus, Carmen’s troubles with Jaylift, Shannon’s wrong turn and Brian’s battle with the terrain challenged me to view accessibility in ways I previously had not.

As an able-bodied person, I have been privileged to move about without thinking about the physical barriers that stand in the way of those who cannot. Being in a wheelchair for a day was a way for me to understand, only in part, the challenges of being physically disabled at this University.

Within just a few hours of being in a wheelchair, I notice how much more effort everyday tasks took to accomplish.

Breakfast is anything but fast.

It takes extra time to reach the fruit baskets, cereal dispensers and juice taps that tower above me in Mrs. E’s. Getting food to my table becomes a balancing act: one plate on my lap, one drink between my knees.

After eating, I move toward the wheelchair ramp near the entrance and try to propel myself up. I move a couple feet before I realize the ramp is too steep to climb, but I want the full experience. I want to know what it’s like to be disabled.

I try the ramp, again, without success. A friend offers to push me. I do not want him to, but the incline is so steep that I accept his offer. I push the handicap-accessible door opener on the way out. I can do that myself.

I pull up to the line and wait to catch the bus. I move toward the open bus door and wait for the driver to release the wheelchair ramp. He doesn’t see me. I yell up at him, “Hey, I need on!”

He flips a switch and reduces the air pressure in the tires. The ramp kneels in front of me. I push myself up the narrow ramp.

The bus driver clears the way for me to roll through the aisle to the wheelchair-accessible seat.

People stare. Heat envelops my face and hands. I’m embarrassed. People on the bus know I’m able-bodied.

The bus driver gets out of his seat to buckle me in. He fumbles with my belt and chair looking for the overhead buckle. People sigh and look annoyed. The bus is nearly full, and students are still climbing on. Leaving for campus takes longer than usual.

Just hours into my venture on campus my hands begin to cramp, my arms are sore from pushing myself forward, my butt aches from sitting in the chair so long and my feet and legs began start going numb from not being used. The physical strain of rolling myself around campus is made worse by my blistering palms, jammed fingers and stiff wheels. Such inconveniences were surpassed only by my encounters with uneven sidewalks, manual doors I could not open, having people stare at my struggles and having to ask perfect strangers for help.

Of these, asking for help was the toughest. I can be somewhat proud, and stepping outside my comfort zone to ask others for help is not part of my plan. That is, until I run into Nick Ratliff, who in part inspired this story.

I’m rolling across Wescoe toward Budig when I meet Nick, who has spina bifida and is in a wheelchair. I tell him about my attempt to spend a day in a wheelchair.

He asks me how it’s going. Tougher than I thought, I tell him. I explain how my hands are throbbing, my arms ache and my legs are numb. He shows me his hands. They’re bright red with blisters and covered in dirt. He says he’s used to it.

Before we part ways, I ask him if he has any advice for me. Ask for help whenever you can, he says. Ironically, I’ve avoided that all day.

Indeed, Nick’s advice helped me get through the day. I began asking perfect strangers to push me up steep inclines and corroded curb cuts and to open doors I could not.

Even so, by the end of the day, I was exhausted.

I catch the bus back to Daisy Hill and brave the stretch of sidewalk leading up to my dorm. My hands are throbbing, sore to the touch, my arms feeling like they’re going to fall off. My whole body is aching.

The last stretch of sidewalk from the bus stop to my dorm looks more like the last 100 meters of some great marathon than just slabs of concrete. Once in my room I stand up, stretch my legs and walk away from my wheelchair. All I can think about are those students who cannot.

— Edited by Lauren Keith