Feet pounding the pavement. Wind at her back. The rhythmic calm of a run clearing the chaos in her mind. It was the first thing that helped her manage anxiety. The thing that made her feel strong. The thing that tethered her to peace.

And in 2019, movement was the first thing to go.

That fall, Nicole — a dedicated 911 dispatcher and lifelong runner — woke up with a strange pain in her foot. Doctors told her it was likely peripheral neuropathy.

“Rest,” they said. “It’ll pass.” But it didn’t. The pain worsened until she could barely walk. Two weeks later, she landed in the ER, where scans revealed the real culprit: a four-foot-long blood clot.

The delay had triggered a cascade of health emergencies. Nicole was eventually diagnosed with Antiphospholipid Syndrome, a rare autoimmune disorder that causes abnormal blood clotting. In a matter of weeks, her life unraveled.

She endured ten surgeries. Spent more than five months in a wheelchair. And ultimately, she lost her left leg below the knee.

“I was always the one helping other people,” she says. “I’d spent decades answering emergency calls, staying calm for strangers on the worst day of their lives. But suddenly, I was the one in crisis. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

Everything changed. (Donate right here.)

The independence she’d always cherished vanished. Once home from the hospital, the isolation settled in fast. Friends stopped dropping by. Her once-busy life shrank to the four walls of her home. 

She didn’t yet have a dog. She couldn’t lift her wheelchair into her car. Even simple things, like putting on a pair of pants without the bend and movement of an ankle, became a daily frustration.

“I was just… stuck,” she says. “And the stillness? It was loud. It felt like the world had moved on without me.”

Eventually, her parents came to get her. She moved back in with them and began the slow, painful work of healing. A few more surgeries, more hospital stays, and then, finally, a turning point: her first prosthetic.

“I could move again,” she says. “Not far, not fast, but it was something. It meant freedom.”

That was all Nicole needed. She started with slow laps around her kitchen island, trying to rebuild stamina during the COVID lockdown. She followed amputee runners on Instagram and found hope in their stories. In 2021, she connected with a company in Denmark that made affordable running blades. Her prosthetist agreed to fit her with a basic socket so she could try it out.

It wasn’t perfect. It was uncomfortable. Her weight fluctuated. The heat in Tucson made her sleeve slip, filled it with sweat. But the first time she ran again, even just a little, she cried.

Running didn’t just make her feel like herself again. It reminded her she still had control.

But there was a catch.

The running blade only worked with a specific carbon fiber socket, one designed to absorb shock, allow for agility, and connect comfortably to her body. It wasn’t covered by insurance. And without it, every mile came with pain, instability, and risk.

“I’d trained myself to run again,” she says. “But I was running on a socket that wasn’t meant for it. It was like trying to run in boots instead of sneakers.”

That’s when Chive Charities stepped in.

With a grant from our donors, Nicole received funding for a specialized running socket that finally fit her lifestyle, her body, and her ambition. The total impact was $3,000. 

“I could run without pain,” she says. “That socket changed everything.”

She’s now logging 30–50 miles a week, sometimes more. Her German shepherd mix, Juniper, joins her on early-morning runs before the Arizona sun gets too fierce. She knows which paths to take, where the curbs dip, and how to adjust for rocks or trail debris. And when it’s too hot, she jumps on the treadmill, watches her comfort show, and keeps moving.

For Nicole, movement is everything.

It’s how she reclaims her space. How she rewrote the story of her body. How she’s transforming pain into purpose.

She’s not stopping with her own journey, either. Nicole is now a passionate advocate for the So Every BODY Can Move movement, fighting for legislation that would make athletic prosthetics, like her socket, covered by insurance in every state. “No one should have to crowdfund their health,” she says. “We don’t stop needing to move just because we lost a limb.”

She joins bi-monthly advocacy calls, shows up at community events, and mentors new amputees through the Amputee Coalition. She even helped a fellow first responder who lost his leg on duty navigate the process, becoming a lifeline, just as others once were for her.

And at work, she continues to lead by example, recently advocating for her department to install automatic door buttons so she and others using mobility aids could access shared spaces with ease. “It’s the little things that build a more inclusive world,” she says. “Sometimes you just have to be the one to speak up.”

Nicole has spent her life answering the call — and now, thanks to a community of donors who believe in her story, she’s chasing new goals with every step.

“My next target is a sub-25-minute 5K,” she laughs. “But really, my goal is just to keep moving, and to help others believe that they can, too.”

While stillness once defined her, it no longer confines her. Movement, in all its forms, is her freedom. Her therapy. Her voice.

Now, your movement can help someone like Nicole take their next step, too. All it takes is a click.

Stretch those fingers, tap those keys, and become a Chive Charities donor. When we move together, we change lives…or at least make them 10% happier. DONATE HERE.