Rosemarie Rossetti tries something new every day.

At first, less than two years ago, she managed a wheelchair and crutches.

Then she moved on to the mundane activities of daily life:

• Taking a shower.
• Standing by herself.
• Planting a flower.

All were once as inconsequential as descending the stairs of her Gahanna home, opening the front door and driving to work.

On June 13, 1998, her life changed forever.

Rossetti and her husband, Mark Leder, were riding bicycles on a trail near Granville, Ohio, when a tree fell on her, crushing her lower spine and paralyzing her legs below the knees.

They entered a new and sometimes-frightening world of hospitalization and rehabilitation, and, surprisingly, an unforeseen willingness to take more risks.

Since a year ago, when The Dispatch last looked at her remarkable progress, her can-do attitude and refusal to indulge for long in self-pity have helped Rossetti negotiate stairs without crutches, ride a horse, drive an adapted van and mentor another paralyzed accident victim.

Of all the activities she has tried to relearn, skiing seems the most challenging -- and foolhardy.

Rossetti loved skiing, however, and still does.

She took lessons during the winter in Bellefontaine, Ohio, from Steve Ricker, a member of the Adaptive Adventure Sports Coalition, a nonprofit group of about 100 volunteers.

Last year the group worked with nearly 500 central Ohio people with disabilities, also teaching them to climb mountains and sail canoes.

The coalition has a slogan: "If I can do this, I can do anything."

People in wheelchairs continually cope with barriers such as curbs; when they learn to ski, Ricker said, they help topple the everyday hurdles.

A mono-ski or sit-ski, developed by a paralyzed ski enthusiast, features a chair attached to a single ski. The skier fits snugly into the seat and steers with the poles, or outriggers.

"Imagine skiing on your arms," Rossetti said. "Your seat is so tight. It's like sitting in a bucket.

"The instructor is with you the whole way, yelling 'Turn, turn, turn' or 'Loosen up.' "

At first the skier is tethered to the instructor. Eventually the skier is racing downhill with the cold wind in her face, the world streaking past.

"Once I got my first lesson and I knew it was possible, I thought: 'What would be the chances of going to Colorado?' "

In mid-March, Rossetti and Leder accepted an invitation to use a friend's condo in Breckenridge, Colo., for a long weekend of Rocky Mountain skiing.

The challenge found in three flights of steps there opened new doors: She learned to use her hands and the railing to climb.

"I can go into anyone's home now," she said. "I could be a houseguest."

One aspect of skiing provides a metaphor for her life.

"Set your eye on a tree, a building, something at the end of the run," she said. "Position your body so it always aims that way; otherwise, when you turn your head and your body follows, you'll ski uphill and then fall."

Since the accident, she has had one overriding aim: "I want my life back."

Before the accident she focused on education, earning a bachelor's degree in horticulture and master's and doctorate in agriculture education. She left the Ohio State University faculty in 1997 to start a business of speaking, training and consulting.

Staying on track has become even more important to her.

During the first two years after a spinal injury, victims have a better chance of recovering some of their lost abilities.

Leder praises Rossetti for her discipline at doing daily exercises at home and physical therapy at OSU, and trying new activities, such as riding an adapted bicycle -- and a horse.

Not everything is an adrenalin rush down a snowy slope.

Rossetti has concerns about long-term health problems caused by medications, calcium depletion and the loss of bowel, bladder and other functions -- all of which make her more prone to infection and disease. (With her doctor's approval, she weaned herself from a muscle-spasm medication.)

Women with spinal injuries also lose five years of life expectancy.

Yet her attitude during her recovery has remained so positive that Rossetti was asked to mentor another Dodd Hall patient, a woman paralyzed after a horseback-riding accident.

"Not all of our patients do as well as Rosemarie," said Theresa Berner, rehabilitation team leader.

Such peer support works best "because they talk to someone who's been there," she said. "When people are injured, it's harder on the family. They don't know what to do. Sometimes patients don't open up to the family or caregiver. They're afraid to put more on the family."

Rossetti and Leder took advantage of professional counseling to help them deal with the radical shifts in their marriage.

"We have grown together as a couple and appreciate the things we do," Rossetti said. "It's been very much evident in our lives that we must depend on each other and do for each other unconditionally."

Leder started an Internet business-development company a few months ago.

"It's 13 steps to my office," he said, nodding to the stairs in the living room. "Yeah, it's a risk. I felt, if we can go through this situation with Rosemarie, I can get into this.

"This is something I really want to do because I think it will work really well for both of us. This wouldn't have happened without the injury; if this hadn't happened, I'd still be in the corporate world."

Much has changed in a year.

"Now, she's my driver."