Stephen La Salle is a para-endurance athlete whose journey has taken him from military service, through injury, and into a new chapter of resilience and rediscovery through sport.
His story goes far beyond competition. Through some of life’s most difficult moments, Stephen rebuilt himself step by step, showing that true strength is not always loud or visible. Sometimes, it is found quietly — in the decision to keep moving forward when everything feels uncertain.
For Stephen, “Hidden Performance” is about the unseen resilience and inner strength built long before race day ever begins.
Can you tell us a little about yourself and your journey so far?
My journey hasn’t been straightforward. It’s been a lot of starting over.
There were moments in my life where everything shifted, and I had to figure out who I was again. Not just as an athlete, but as a person. That wasn’t easy. There were a lot of unknowns, a lot of doubt.
Sport became something I could come back to. Not because it was easy or comfortable, but because it gave me something to hold onto. It gave me a way to rebuild, little by little.
Over time, it stopped being just about training or competing. It became part of how I healed, how I processed things, and how I moved forward.
What gave you the strength to return to training after some of the most difficult moments in your life?
Honestly, it didn’t feel like strength at the time. It was more like… I just didn’t want to stay stuck where I was.
Training gave me something simple to focus on. One session, one step, one day at a time. I didn’t need to have everything figured out. I just needed to show up.
And over time, that started to matter. Those small efforts added up and slowly pulled me out of a place I didn’t want to stay in.
I think the strength came after—not before. It was built through the process, not something I had going into it.
Today, what does “performance” mean to you beyond times, results, or competition?
It means showing up honestly.
These days, I don’t look at performance as just numbers or results. It’s more about how I carry myself through the process; how consistent I am, how I handle the hard days, how I take care of myself.
Some days, a good performance is pushing hard. Other days, it’s knowing when to ease off or just get through it.
It’s less about proving something to other people and more about staying connected to why I do this in the first place.
On the days when both your body and mind feel exhausted, what continues to push you forward?
Those are the days where I remind myself that I’ve felt this way before and I got through it.
I don’t expect big things from myself on those days. Sometimes the goal is just to keep moving, even if it’s slower, even if it feels off.
I think about where I came from and what it took just to get back to this point. That perspective helps. And honestly, I’ve learned that those tough days matter more than the easy ones. They’re not pretty, but they build something deeper.
What does “Hidden Performance” personally mean to you?
It’s everything people don’t see.
It’s the quiet work, the early mornings, the recovery, the mental battles, the days where nothing feels like it’s improving.
It’s also the moments where you choose to keep going even when no one would blame you for stopping.
That’s where the real work happens. Race day is just the outcome. The hidden part is where you actually become who you need to be to get there.
What kind of change would you like to see for "National AccessAbility Week" and beyond?
Accessibility, to me, shouldn’t feel like something extra. It should just be normal.
I think we’re getting better at talking about it, but there’s still a gap when it comes to actually building spaces, whether it’s in sport or everyday life, where people feel like they truly belong.
I’d love to see a future where people don’t have to fight as hard just to be included. Where opportunities are there from the start, not added later.
And beyond that, just a shift in how people see disability. Not as something limiting or different in a negative way; but just as part of who someone is.
Because when people feel seen and included, everything changes for the better.
If someone out there is currently going through their own difficult chapter, what would you want them to hear?
I’d want them to know that even if it doesn’t feel like it right now, they’re going to get through this.
I know how easy it is to feel stuck in those moments; like nothing is changing and you’re just trying to make it through the day. But just being here, just continuing to show up in whatever way you can, that matters more than you think.
You don’t have to have everything figured out. You don’t have to feel strong all the time. Some days, the win is just taking one small step forward—and that’s enough.
What I’ve learned is that the hard chapters don’t last forever, but they do change you. They build something in you—strength, perspective, resilience—that you can’t always see while you’re in it.
There is something on the other side of this. And the version of you that gets there is going to be stronger than you think right now.
So just keep going. Even slowly. Even imperfectly. Just don’t give up on yourself.
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