Joel Hunt Bio
I joined the Army in 1998, fully committed to building a 20-year career. However, during deployments to Iraq, my path changed forever when I was severely injured by a roadside blast, resulting in a traumatic brain injury (TBI).
When I returned home, I felt helpless. I was confined to a wheelchair, and my parents had to move in to become my full-time caregivers. I battled constant dizziness, blackouts, and double vision that made it difficult to focus. My TBI also impaired my ability to regulate body temperature, putting me at risk of overheating. I lost control and feeling in my legs. At one point, I was prescribed 15 different medications, leaving me slurring my speech and struggling to think clearly. I sounded and acted as if I were drunk.
Before my injury, I took pride in caring for my soldiers — but now, I had to swallow my pride and ask for help. It was one of the hardest things I've ever faced. I sank into severe depression, consumed by survivor’s guilt. Night after night, I lay in the dark thinking about my buddies who didn’t make it home. Looking into the eyes of their widows and children, I felt an unbearable weight, believing they saw me as the lucky one — when I didn’t feel lucky at all. I questioned why I survived. Sometimes, I wished I hadn’t.
Before my injury, I didn’t understand the true challenges people with disabilities face. It wasn’t a priority for me — until life forced me to see it firsthand. My injury gave me a new perspective, a new respect, and ultimately, a new purpose.
My parents were my biggest supporters, pushing me to get out of the house and into the world again. One of the activities they encouraged was skiing. Growing up in a small town near Kokomo, Indiana, I never had the opportunity to ski — it always seemed like a sport for wealthy people. I had no idea it would end up changing my life.
In December 2008, my parents signed me up for a ski camp for veterans with TBI. Reluctantly, I went, battling anxiety from PTSD and my own self-consciousness. On December 17, 2008, I learned how to ski — and within three days, I was carving down the slopes. My instructor, a former ski racer, said I was excelling. When I asked if I could become a racer, he told me, “No — you’re too old.”
That lit a fire inside me.
Determined to prove him wrong, I skied 125 days that season. In 2009, with financial help from the Challenged Athletes Foundation’s Operation Rebound program, I was able to get the equipment and funding needed to compete. By the end of the 2009–2010 season, I was ranked in the top 10 nationally among adaptive skiers. Today, I’m ranked 3rd nationally and 34th globally. I’m a silver medalist in slalom from the Canadian Nationals, World Cup qualified, and proudly qualified for the 2014 Winter Olympics.
The challenges of TBI, paralysis in my left leg, and double vision remain. But I’ve made enormous progress — reducing my medications from 15 to just 3 — and transforming my life through skiing. Skiing became my therapy, my rehabilitation, and my purpose. It showed me that improvement is possible with hard work and relentless dedication.
My motto is simple:
"Train like you’re the worst skier in the world and race like a champion."
Many people dream of making the Paralympic team. I believe I can achieve that goal — not just for myself, but to inspire others. If an ordinary guy like me can come back from the brink, others can too. I want to show everyone living with disabilities that tough times don’t last — tough people do.