Cows have to be milked twice a day, so work on a farm never stops. But every Christmas, we nine Gardner children let Dad sleep in). We woke before dawn in the Wyoming[ii]) cold to do the chores[iii]). My brother and I would argue — and sometimes wrestle — over who had to do what. One year he fed the calves — a ten-minute job. While I got stuck[iv]) herding the cows into their stalls to be milked. They can knock you over, and while you‘re down 20 of them will escape. That morning I decided I wasn‘t going to run from work that had to be done. I wanted to say I did my best. By myself, I pushed them all into the milking pens.
The same determination helped me win a gold medal in Sydney, and kept me alive when I drove my snowmobile into a frozen Wyoming creek in February 2002. I was lost outside in sub-zero weather from 4:30 in the afternoon until the next morning. When the rescuers found me, they had to saw[v]) my boots off. I should have died that night but willed[vi]) myself to stay alive by focusing like I did on herding the cows, like I did on facing an opponent[vii]). Even if I didn‘t make it, I wanted to know I had done my best.
I did make it. Doctors amputated[viii]) a toe and I had several skin grafts[ix]), but I can still wrestle. That first Christmas after the accident meant a lot to me. My nieces and nephews did the farm chores, so I got to sleep in. I woke up viewing the day, and any that followed, as a bonus[x]).
