My name is Debbie Ragals, and my life has been shaped by showing up for others, often through movement and service. I got involved in triathlon in 2005 as a volunteer, supporting athletes and learning what it took to complete longer distances. After volunteering at a full Ironman, I felt called to try it myself—and once I did, I was hooked. What began as a personal challenge quickly grew into something much bigger than racing.
After completing my first Ironman in 2008, I knew I wanted to use my ability to help someone else. I had long wanted to guide blind athletes, and through a local running store in Westchester, I connected with a blind runner. We’ve been training together ever since. Guiding means moving as one—swimming tethered together, riding a tandem bike, running connected by a rope—and it creates a deep sense of trust and partnership. Over time, I also trained with other blind athletes, including Paralympian Amy Dixon, and helped assist with a triathlon training camp for blind athletes at the Olympic Training Center in California.
This work connects back to earlier moments in my life. Years ago, I worked across from the Lighthouse in New York City, which supports blind individuals, and spent my lunch breaks helping in their dining room—assisting with meals and simply sitting and talking. My grandmother had macular degeneration, and I think that experience stayed with me. Guiding has taught me gratitude—for my mobility, for connection, and for the chance to help someone experience movement and independence in a way that might otherwise be out of reach.
Beyond athletics, I’ve found ways to serve through meal delivery programs and my synagogue. It all comes from the same place: knowing how much we take for granted. Running beside someone—literally and figuratively—has shown me that community is built when we choose not to go alone.
After completing my first Ironman in 2008, I knew I wanted to use my ability to help someone else. I had long wanted to guide blind athletes, and through a local running store in Westchester, I connected with a blind runner. We’ve been training together ever since. Guiding means moving as one—swimming tethered together, riding a tandem bike, running connected by a rope—and it creates a deep sense of trust and partnership. Over time, I also trained with other blind athletes, including Paralympian Amy Dixon, and helped assist with a triathlon training camp for blind athletes at the Olympic Training Center in California.
This work connects back to earlier moments in my life. Years ago, I worked across from the Lighthouse in New York City, which supports blind individuals, and spent my lunch breaks helping in their dining room—assisting with meals and simply sitting and talking. My grandmother had macular degeneration, and I think that experience stayed with me. Guiding has taught me gratitude—for my mobility, for connection, and for the chance to help someone experience movement and independence in a way that might otherwise be out of reach.
Beyond athletics, I’ve found ways to serve through meal delivery programs and my synagogue. It all comes from the same place: knowing how much we take for granted. Running beside someone—literally and figuratively—has shown me that community is built when we choose not to go alone.
