At 15, Rick Hoyt, who had cerebral palsy, asked his dad, Dick, “Can we run that race?” Though Dick wasn’t a runner, love doesn’t wait for perfect conditions.
He pushed Rick’s wheelchair for five miles, and they finished last—but Rick smiled and said, “Dad, when I’m running, I don’t feel handicapped.”
From that day on, Team Hoyt became unstoppable, completing over 1,000 races, including 32 Boston Marathons. Love truly carries us farther than we could ever imagine.
Rick Hoyt was 15 with cerebral palsy. Severe enough to require wheelchair, to limit communication, to make physical activities most teenagers take for granted impossible. His body didn’t cooperate the way he wanted. And he saw a race happening and asked his dad: “Can we run that race?”
Think about that question from Rick’s perspective. He couldn’t run—couldn’t even walk. But he wanted to participate, to feel what running felt like, to be part of something athletic and competitive. So he asked his dad, knowing Dick would have to do all the physical work.
“Though Dick wasn’t a runner, love doesn’t wait for perfect conditions.” Dick Hoyt wasn’t athlete. Wasn’t trained for distance running. Probably hadn’t done significant running since youth. But his son wanted to run a race, and Dick decided that was enough reason to try. Love doesn’t wait for you to be ready. It just makes you ready.
“He pushed Rick’s wheelchair for five miles, and they finished last.” Five miles. Pushing wheelchair. With no training. They came in last place—everyone else finished before them. Most people would consider that failure or embarrassment. But Dick and Rick didn’t care about placement. They cared about completing what they started together.
“But Rick smiled and said, ‘Dad, when I’m running, I don’t feel handicapped.'” That sentence justifies everything. Rick’s cerebral palsy limited him daily. Made him feel handicapped constantly. But when his dad pushed him in races, wind in his face, speed and motion he couldn’t create himself, Rick felt freed from his limitations. For those miles, he wasn’t handicapped kid in wheelchair. He was runner.
“From that day on, Team Hoyt became unstoppable.” One five-mile race where they finished last turned into lifetime of racing. Over 1,000 races total. Thirty-two Boston Marathons—the prestigious race most runners never complete once. Dick pushed, pulled, or carried Rick through marathons, triathlons, even Ironman competitions. They became legendary in endurance sports community.
“Love truly carries us farther than we could ever imagine.” That’s not metaphor—it’s literal truth. Dick’s love for Rick carried Rick through over 1,000 races. Carried him across marathon finish lines, through triathlon swims, up brutal hills. But it also carried Dick farther than he imagined—transforming non-runner into ultra-endurance athlete who completed 32 Boston Marathons because his son smiled and said “I don’t feel handicapped.”
The photo shows them mid-race—Dick pushing Rick’s wheelchair, both clearly straining, both completely committed. Dick is elderly by this point, face showing the physical toll, but determination evident. Rick in wheelchair pointing forward—communicating, directing, being participant not just passenger. This is Team Hoyt: two people, one body doing the physical work, one spirit driving them both forward.
This story matters because it redefines disability and ability. Rick couldn’t run. But with Dick, he could race. That partnership didn’t erase Rick’s cerebral palsy, but it gave him access to experiences his disability would have prevented. That’s what love does—it finds ways around limitations.
It shows that you don’t need to be prepared to do extraordinary things. Dick wasn’t runner. Had no business attempting five-mile race, much less 1,000+ races including 32 Boston Marathons. But he did it anyway because Rick wanted to feel what running felt like. Sometimes love requires becoming person you never thought you’d be.
And it reminds us that the best gifts we give loved ones aren’t things but experiences. Dick gave Rick freedom from feeling handicapped. Gave him wind in his face and miles under his wheels. Gave him identity as athlete, as racer, as Team Hoyt. That’s worth more than any physical gift.
Rick asked at 15: “Can we run that race?” Dick said yes despite not being runner. They finished last. Rick smiled: “Dad, when I’m running, I don’t feel handicapped.” That launched Team Hoyt—over 1,000 races, 32 Boston Marathons, proof that love carries us farther than we could imagine. Because Dick’s love literally carried Rick across finish lines, and Rick’s joy carried Dick beyond any limits he thought he had.