If Not You, Then Who? If Not Now, Then When?

October 13, 2025

What’s up dudes?

For those of you that don’t know me my name is Austin McDivitt. I grew up in a small town in the central valley of California. I’m talking a small town where the majority of my life we only had one gas station. (We have three now, so...upgrades.)

There is a certain mentality that is woven into small town America. I think it can be boiled down to two simple statements: “Of Service” and “Hard Work.” From a young age, Whether it was going over to grandma and grandpas to stack hay or waking up early on spring break to help dad with the latest demo or going to a family friends to do a clean up/burn day, that of service mentality and hard work were engrained into my being.

As I got older I carried that into playing sports. I realized that even though in the moment I hated having to learn those life lessons at a young age, they quickly became my secret super power. I was never the fastest, the strongest, or most talented on the team, but what I could do is out work you every single time. And when it came to getting a job, I applied that same principle. Whether it was cleaning pools or working the various side gigs, it didn’t matter, I became the “get er done” guy who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty.

Eventually that mentality led me to working at a local Marina, where I dove into the depths of motor oil and grease and I loved every second of it. I quickly formed a bond with those standing next to me in the depths, a comradery that transitioned into a brotherhood of experiences. Whether it was rock crawling, wake boarding, snowboarding, dirt biking, hiking, we were doing it. We were working our butts off and playing just as much. And it was in those activities that we began to expand our social circle, having conversations that pushed our mental barriers in different ways. Conversations of life, religion, various theories and philosophies. In our minds we were living the human experience.

Then the pendulum swung the other way. One day, after a big storm we decided to go snowboarding at the local ski resort. It was the first time that year where the entire mountain was open due to all of the fresh snow. My friends and I saw it as an opportunity to explore the ungroomed runs for the first time. Only problem was that day, the final chairlift was out of commission, so the only way for you to get to the top was to hike up the face of the mountain.

So my friends and I, being us, that’s exactly what we did. It was brutal, each step felt like trudging up stairs that were encased in quicksand. The wind and flurries of snow stung your exposed skin and the cold shoved itself down your lungs making every breath a jolt to your system. After what seemed like hours, we finally made it to the top. To celebrate our victory we decided to take the picture that you see here on the non-operable chairlift. Little did I know that would be the last picture I would take before the fall.

Shortly after we were greeted by a group of skiers that had made the same hike for the second time this morning. Like us, they were stoked on the conditions of the fresh powder but made it clear to us that we needed to stay as far left as possible. Because if we veered off to the right it would take us off the backside of the mountain which despite the snow, was a jagged rock face.

The next few moments are like a cut scene of a movie. One moment we were catching our breath watching the skiers pick their line down the mountain, then we were the ones flying down trying not to sink into the cloudy powder beneath our boards. One second I was flying on a cloud, the next I was a rag doll weightlessly tumbling through the air until my body violently met the ground. Pain reverberated from my ankles as I tried to process what had just happened. I had stayed left like the skiers said so why did I fall off the backside of the mountain. Then it hit me. Through the waves of pain I realized that I had stayed so far left that I ended up going off the mountain in the other direction, into the main groomed run. All of these thoughts rushed in as I sat up and unstrapped my bindings. My friends quickly made it down to me and told me not to move anymore. It became apparent as I sat there, the cold slowly seeping into my clothes, that I wasn’t making it down the mountain by myself.

One of my friends there that day was able to flag down ski patrol and they agreed that I should let them take me down. I didn’t think it was anything to serious, broken ankles maybe, until I was in the back of the ambulance and the lower half of my body started to slowly go numb.

Those next days, weeks, and months after that moment are a whirlwind. I’m sure many of you here can relate. It's very much focused on surviving. From the transfer to a life flight helicopter, to being rushed into surgery, to waking up alone in a room with the surgeon telling you that you suffered a spinal cord injury and will probably never walk again. The sleepless nights in the I.C.U, to being transferred to a rehab facility where your life becomes moments of trying to figure out how to make it to the next day, hour, second, as some of the greatest people have to teach you how to live in this newfound body.

Then you are home, put back into a life that is normal, but seemingly different at the same time. For me when I came home it was as if I stepped into an echo of my life. My family and friends did everything to make me feel like me, but it was as if the Austin McDivitt that was, was now a whisper on the wind. Everything that made up who I was, all the physical actions that made up my identity I was told I could no longer do.

But I figured I could just “fake it til I made it.” If I didn’t focus on the new reality it wouldn’t come true. So, I dove back in. I went back to work, I was hanging out with my friends and family, on the outside life was good. But on the inside it was a shell of my existence. I’d go out and do these things: I’d go to work and to physical therapy, to family functions, but it was all a mask. Deep down I started to believe that because I was disabled I could no longer be me. So I let Austin McDivitt continue to drift further away on the wind and I continued to fall. Only this time instead of falling into the depths of comradery and family I fell into the trap of a false reality. I quit working, quit going out with my friends as much, and quit living in general. My mindset became so twisted and convoluted that I believed because of my injury I couldn’t accomplish the simplest of tasks.

It was like that for about a year. Then one day I heard about a new physical therapy office that had opened up. I thought, what the heck might as well check it out. It was there that I saw individuals in the same position I was in, trying to not only wrestle with the life that they had been given, but also create a life that they wanted to live. It was something I needed desperately. From the first time I came through those doors, they were standing right beside me in those depths, urging me to make that climb. It was then that I decided “enough of this.” I’m going to find a way to do what I want to do.

There I started trying things the old me used to do. I didn’t care if it took two hours, I wanted to try it, I needed to try it. Over time I started to remember those early life lessons my family had taught me. But, I also realized I needed to become more than who I was. I had to mold myself into the person I was meant to be.

After three years I finally climbed out of that pit. I came back to life with a new mental state, a new identity. A culmination of old and new applying the parts that served me best, so I could better serve others. I returned to work. I started trying to show others at a basic level, if you want to do something, really want to do something, there is a way to figure it out as frustrating as it may be.

It was in those moments that something imprinted onto my mind. “If not you, then who? if not now, then when?"

With that phrase I think I started to piece together some semblance of why God put me in this position in the first place. Mainly for my own benefit, but also to inspire and show what is possible. It made me realize I had to bring more to the table. I wanted to create something that took the conversations and experiences that I was blessed enough to have growing up and give those to individuals within the disability community.

That’s when Wide Open Access was born. And although we are still working out the kinks we have a clear vision and an end goal to break the stigma and show what is possible. To give people the wealth of experiences through the use of adaptive action sports.

If there’s one thing I could leave you with today it’s, keep scaling your wall one ledge at a time. Keep going with that idea, keep scaling that business, and if you need a little help along the way that’s okay. Turn to your friends, to your family, and people like Self-Care For Dudes. But keep fueling that dream regardless of what others have told you. Be a dreamer, because you never know the impact you could have if you don’t.

Thank you, we’ll see you out there.

Austin McDivitt