A boatload of toughness

The toughest college athlete on the block walks through life knowing she could shatter her left leg at any moment. Katie Degner shrugs. It's just part of her existence. Like breathing.

She awakens each morning uncertain of how she will feel. On the good days, there's a persistent ache in her hip. On the bad days, pain that she describes as "a momentary lightning-bolt situation" shoots through her body. She shrugs. She has managed the discomfort for eight months now.

Degner has a disorder called fibrous dysplasia, which has caused benign soft-tissue tumors to form in place of bone in her femur, but no way will she let it hinder her ever-changing college experience. No way will she whine about her bad luck. No way will she abandon her teammates on the Seattle Pacific University women's crew.

"I was told this condition has been developing for a while," says Degner, a 21-year-old junior from Hillsboro, Ore. "I figure if it's taken this long to present itself, I could probably push the limits a little bit."

Pushing the limits has meant maintaining her spot in the engine room of her varsity eight squad. Despite her pain, Degner rows in the No. 5 seat, which means she's one of the most powerful rowers, and much of that power must come from the lower body.

Somehow, she's handled the responsibility without incident, and Seattle Pacific has thrived as a result. The Falcons will compete in the NCAA Division II Championships beginning Friday in Cherry Hill, N.J. The races are held in conjunction with the Division I and III competitions, so several local colleges will be competing. Among them are Division I powerhouse Washington, Division II giant Western Washington and Division III crews Puget Sound and Willamette.

For the Falcons, it's an incredible accomplishment for a small group. Coach Keith Jefferson credits Degner for infusing the team with her intensity.

"It's a testament to her character and her abilities as an athlete," Jefferson said. "She's got a lot of tenacity and ability. It's awesome. It's amazing that she has held up so well. That's real grace of God stuff right there, I've got to tell you."

Out of the gym

Degner used to know exactly who she was. Rewind three years, and she identified herself as a gymnast — an obsessed gymnast — despite being abnormally tall at 5 feet 8.

Gymnastics was her life. Flipping was as natural to her as walking. She decided to attend SPU mostly because she felt she could compete at the Division II level.

But during the first practice of her collegiate career, Degner ruptured the ulnar collateral ligament in her right elbow. She tried to ignore the pain and continue, but the coaches noticed something was off. She needed surgery, and when she returned from the injury, she was told that she wouldn't be allowed to walk-on anymore.

"To me, my whole world ended," she said. "Gymnastics is my passion, and it was a way of life. I couldn't imagine doing anything else. And what hurt the most is that it wasn't my choice to be done. That killed me."

An athletic trainer persuaded her to consider other sports. Degner hesitated and figured she'd transfer instead, but when the trainer mentioned crew, she was intrigued. She went to meet Jefferson, who was shocked at her height.

"I was really surprised that she wasn't 5 feet 4 or shorter," Jefferson said. "I thought the trainer was sending a coxswain my way. But with Katie, I saw a big, strong athlete."

Degner found refuge in crew. It seemed an odd switch, to go from a sport of grace to one of grit, but rowing fit her. As a gymnast, Degner was nicknamed Mad Dog because, before events, she growled to fire up herself and her teammates. Mad Dog was a little awkward for gymnastics, but for crew, her fire proved ideal.

Degner had a couple of problems with the transition, however. She can't swim. And she's afraid of fish.

"It was a battle of internal conflicts and fears," Degner said. "To be on the team, you have to pass a float test. I had to tread water like a mad woman."

In the boat, she's quite fluid. Rowing is as natural to her as walking. Degner combines power with great technique (she's a gymnast, after all). Before doctors told her to stop doing leg presses because of her condition, Degner maxed out at 620 pounds.

She's been ordered not to do any high-intensity exercises that use her lower body. The hope is that she can survive one more meet — the biggest of her life — and make it to the operating table. Surgery is scheduled for June 15.

The procedure sounds vicious. Hollow out the femur. Remove the tumors. Insert titanium rod that will extend from hip to top of knee. Secure rod with two screws.

If all goes well, her leg will heal properly, but there's a possibility those soft-tissue tumors will regenerate. Degner shrugs.

"I'm just going to be eating broccoli, drinking milk and ingesting as much calcium as I can and hope for the best," she said.

Cancer scare

Degner didn't know anything was wrong until last October. That's when she experienced pain that she thought could've been a minor hamstring strain. It refused to heal, so she visited her physician. She was shocked to learn that she could have cancer.

It took more than a month for doctors to rule out cancer. During that time, she re-evaluated her life.

"You hear about people seeing their life flash before their eyes, and you hear about all those 'What would you do different if you have only so long to live?' scenarios. I had all that going on in my head," she said. "It made me appreciate what I have. It gave me new motivations to pursue things that I wouldn't have had the courage to do.

"Like, I want to go into the Peace Corps after college. I never thought I'd be brave enough to go so far from home and do something like that. But I've realized that, if you don't take advantage of opportunities, you could wake up one morning and realize the opportunity isn't there anymore."

The girl who came to college thinking only about gymnastics now sees the big picture. She's an exercise science major and wants to be a physical therapist, but not just any physical therapist. She wants to help underprivileged people who can't afford to rehabilitate their bodies.

Degner has learned to appreciate the simple parts of athletics. She enjoys it when her crew teammates ask her to do gymnast tricks like handstand push-ups. She's learned that behind every disappointment there's a chance to do something better. And although she's defiantly competing on a ticking time bomb of a leg, she's learned how to separate athletics from real life.

"I've learned that athletics is not my identity anymore," she said. "Which is liberating."

She paused to laugh.

"And all it took was a bunch of tumors on my femur."

Jerry Brewer: 206-464-2277 or jbrewer@seattletimes.com