Meet tall, beautiful Jami Goldman: world-class athlete, Adidas spokes-person, motivational speaker -- and double amputee. More than a decade ago, a wrong turn on a back road during a blizzard resulted in a terrifying fight for her life. Now for the first time, Jami recounts her gripping story of being trapped in the snow for eleven endless days, the grievous loss of her legs, and the fortitude it has taken to not only walk again but run like the wind -- all the way to freedom.On December 23, 1987, nineteen-year-old Jami Goldman and her friend Lisa Barzano headed home from a ski trip in Purgatory, Colorado, never imagining they would end up in a freezing hell on a back road that the state of Arizona had closed without checking for travelers in distress. The girls' car battery died during that first long night, stranding them in below-zero temperatures. With only a cinnamon roll and a six-pack of frozen Diet Pepsi, the next ten days became an exercise in survival, testing their faith and courage even after they were rescued -- when Jami's legs and feet were deemed beyond saving. Wise, forthright, and astonishing, Up and Running follows Jami's global journey from loss to recovery. Her story, which often reads like a compelling mystery, features her supportive family and friends, a devastating court case, her passionate relationship with the man she married, and finally, her triumph over inconceivably fearful obstacles. In the end, Up and Running shows us all how to use adversity as a stepping-stone -- leading us to heights we previously considered out of reach and beyond our wildest dreams.

Jami Goldman a world class runner and accomplished motivational speaker, travels the world showing others, by example, how to rise above adversity. After losing her legs in a tragic accident many years ago, she uses her positive attitude and boundless energy to inspire others toward self-acceptance and love of life. Jami lives in Huntington Beach with her husband, Beau, and their two dogs, PJ and Charlie.

Chapter One: The Privalege of Running I stood at the starting line, checking my blocks to make sure they were in exactly the right positions. As naturally as I took to running right from the beginning, those starting blocks were not my friends and they still aren't. Not yet, anyway. I just can't seem to come off them as fast as I need to, but I'm working on it every day. That's what running is all about, practicing your strengths and your weak points over and over, and making every race count.For a quick moment, I glanced upward into the stands at the immense crowd of people, ablaze in bright summer colors. It made me almost dizzy, there were so many of them. I heard my coach's voice as if she were beside me, reminding me to keep my mind on the race, to breathe, to focus, not to get distracted. I brought my attention back to the track in front of me, a much safer place.It was midafternoon in July 2000, at the Olympic trials in Sacramento, California. I'd been training and waiting for this day, and now that it was here, I couldn't have been more excited. The buzz of more than twenty-five thousand people, alive with anticipation, was in the air, as they milled around, talking loudly and making predictions, trying to steal a look at their favorite superstar track athletes, who were all gathered in one place to qualify for the upcoming Olympic games in Sydney, Australia.My fellow disabled runners and I were there too, but for us, this was an exhibition race, not a qualifier. For me, personally, I hadn't been lucky enough to nab one of the seventy-one slots that were available for U.S. disabled athletes to compete in the Paralympics in Sydney. I had trained really hard and could have gotten a slot if the other double below-the-knee (BK) amputees and I had been given our own races. But because there weren't enough of us, I was up against people who were missing only one leg. I can't beat an elite runner with one leg, and it's not fair to expect me to, but fairness is not the theme of this book or of my life. I've learned not to think in those terms. It's much more about rising to meet your circumstances, overcoming adversity, and appreciating yourself exactly as you are, along with the gifts that life keeps offering you.This was not my first exhibition race, but it was definitely the most exciting. The sheer number of spectators and the importance of what the greatest athletes in the world were here to do reverberated all over the stands and on the track. Runners in warm-up clothes pretended to ignore probing television cameras while they stretched and jumped around, partly to keep their muscles supple and warm, partly to control the adrenaline that was shooting through their bodies. The great female athlete Marion Jones was running in the next qualifier. I couldn't see her yet, but she was probably on the sidelines somewhere warming up. With her extraordinary talent, her impeccable work ethic, her speed, and her determination, she was a modern-day hero to all women runners. I could hardly believe that when my race was over, I would get to watch her qualify for the hundred-meter sprint, the same distance I was about to run. Her goal was to win five gold medals in the Olympic games; mine was to finish this exhibition race in a strong time and to get through the rest of my life.Butterflies danced in my stomach, bumping into my bladder over and over again. I felt like I had to pee, even though I'd done it five minutes before. That always happens to me right before a race starts, whether my intention is to improve my time, set a world record, win a gold medal, or run an exhibition race in front of an Olympic audience. The feeling that my stomach is about to splatter just seems to come with the territory, whether I'm competing against myself or other runners. Whatever race I'm in, whether I expect to come in first or last, competing always feels important to me, just because I'm able to