Erica Davis’ garage is crammed full of random stuff, providing safe haven for everything from lawn chairs to gardening equipment.

High above this hodgepodge, however, hangs one of Davis’ prized possessions. A Trek SLR 1500 triathlon bike is collecting dust, dangling from two hooks attached to the ceiling. Though the $1,100 cycle hasn’t seen action in some time and hangs indefinitely fallow, Davis has no intention of selling.

“I’m saving it,” said Davis, a 26-year-old Lodi native who moved to Carlsbad in January 2007. “I’ll use it again someday soon.”

That big purchase was a major step toward fulfilling a dream, one Davis refuses to abandon. She’s determined to complete the Ironman Triathlon world championships before her 30th birthday, targeting 2009 as the year to qualify for and finish the grueling competition annually held in Kona, Hawaii.

A hand cycle and a racing wheelchair have been necessary triathlon tools since Dec. 31, 2005, when a genetic anomaly stole Davis’ ability to walk.

The ruptured vessel from a previously undiagnosed cavernous hemangioma near the spine that paralyzed Davis from the navel down hasn’t stolen much else. It hasn’t sapped her spirit, her unwavering faith or her passion for athletics. If anything, the abnormal cluster of blood vessels that catastrophically leaked into Davis’ spinal column bolstered her resolve.

That long-standing dream has narrowed her focus to a pair of clear-cut objectives.

“I have two jobs right now: recovery and training,” Davis said. “That’s what matters most.”

Ryan Davis doesn’t fancy himself a crier. It’s not a macho thing, merely an element of his laid-back persona. Even stoics, it turns out, have their limits.

Erica’s younger brother was driving back to the family’s hometown of Lodi just before that fateful New Year’s Eve 2 1/2 years ago when a phone call shattered his emotional threshold. His father, Steve, came through the receiver, proclaiming the unimaginable.

The only daughter of the Davis clan might never walk again. Ryan Davis couldn’t believe it. The volleyball, basketball and softball star, the competitive tomboy he knew and loved, might lose both her athleticism and her independence.

“That really got to me the most,” Ryan Davis said. “I just started bawling when I heard the news, and it wasn’t something I wanted to hold back.”

It just didn’t seem right. Erica wasn’t involved in something stupid and she didn’t put herself in harm’s way. Debilitation came from an abnormal cluster of blood vessels that occurs in one out of 200 people but rarely causes such disastrous effects.

Davis was the exception. Doctors told her the odds of a ruptured vessel leaking into the spinal column is one in 5 million. Lightning strikes seven times more frequently.

“The drive to see her was emotionally draining,” said Ryan Davis, who was returning home from Lake Tahoe at the time. “I was upset and I was crying. But I heard that Erica didn’t want negativity in her hospital room. She wanted all of us to stay positive and upbeat, and I’ve followed her instructions ever since.”

That’s how Erica dealt with the bizarre twists that ultimately led to her paralysis —- with wit and optimism.

“When I would get hurt playing sports, I would never cry,” she said. “People get nervous and scared in situations like that, but I never have. While what happened to me wasn’t funny, I chose to focus on the positive, slightly odd parts of the situation. I was trying to make the situation better, because I didn’t know if it was a bad dream. I’d never been through anything like that, so it’s hard to know what’s going on or how to react.”

The confusion started on Dec. 27, 2005 with a serious backache. Davis thought nothing of it. She had completed a long run the previous day and had spent several hours hunched over, knitting a blanket.

Davis worked through the pain as she always did. Sunrise did not bring relief; nor did a massage or a trip to the chiropractor. By Dec. 30, that backache became a tingling sensation that extended throughout her legs and prompted a trip to the emergency room. She left six hours later with a prescription and a diagnosis of extreme muscle spasms.

Her condition proved far worse at the pharmacy, where she had to use a shopping cart as a crutch for her dangling left leg. That night, she clung to the walls on a trip to the bathroom, and in the morning she could no longer stand. Try as she might, her toughness and willpower were losing out.

She rolled out of bed and crumpled in front of her father’s eyes.

“I just kind of sat there laughing,” she said. “He tried to help me up, but I ended up having to go down the stairs on my butt.”

Davis rose again and used the walls to walk from the stairs to the couch. Those steps proved to be her last. She was taken back to the hospital on Dec. 31 and eventually transported to a hospital at UC Davis.

Ask Davis about the experience and she doesn’t dwell on the frightening realization that she couldn’t feel a spinal tap. She’s more interested in recalling the ambulance ride to UC Davis, during which she convinced paramedics to crank up their sirens to honor the new year. She looks back on the “penthouse with a big window” she was given upon arrival, not her reason for being there.

While friends and family abided by her mandate of positivity, Davis occasionally broke her own code. Emotion mutinied during the night shift, long after the stream of well-wishers ran dry.

“It was a lot easier when my friends and family were around,” Davis said. “I had so many people visit that my room was like a flower shop. I appreciated all the support, and that got me through the early days. But at night it was hard to keep it all together. I’m not an emotional person, but after awhile I just couldn’t help myself.”

Davis would snuggle up with a little stuffed cow and cry herself to sleep, but the tears were always gone when doctors made their morning rounds.

“Sniffles were OK, but no tears,” Davis said. “I needed everyone focusing on the positive. That was the only way I was going to move forward.”

Davis has no interest in looking back. While some might drown in self-pity under similar circumstances, she says she wouldn’t change a thing. She powers on with unwavering faith that she will complete the Ironman Triathlon world championships, once using a hand cycle and again with that Trek SLR 1500 in the garage.

It was a dream fostered during a six-month period teaching physical education at a private high school in Hawaii. There, triathlons became a new athletic obsession for someone who remained active during her time at Pacific Union College, located in the Napa Valley.

Davis’ passion hasn’t waned a bit. Her efforts are focused on achieving both goals by maintaining peak physical condition and someday walking again.

“I learned long ago to never doubt her,” Ryan Davis said. “If Erica sets her mind to something, she always comes through.”

Davis works out with personal trainer Lance Miller four times per week, attends walking therapy, and trains several times per week in each of the triathlon’s three disciplines —- swimming, cycling and running.

Such intense training and physical therapy comes at a cost. Insurance covered Davis’ expenses throughout her hospital stay, but the policy considers her recovered, meaning any additional therapy comes out of the Davises’ pocket.

“They simply will not cover the physical therapy that is required,” said Carol Davis, Erica’s mother. “Continuing her treatment on our own has depleted every source of income we have. We’re doing everything we can, but our finances have simply evaporated.”

The Davis family spends $4,000 per month on physical therapy alone, which doesn’t include any additional costs for workout or triathlon equipment.

Economics forced the family to split apart. Steve Davis operates a real estate company in Lodi, while Erica and Carol moved to a senior citizen’s mobile home park in Carlsbad 17 months ago to be closer to North County’s top-flight treatment facilities. Steve visits a few times per month, and brothers Jonathan, 27, and Ryan, 24, help out financially when they can.

The family has rallied together to promote Erica’s passion. They allow her to train constantly and travel to triathlons across the state. She has participated in four over the last two years and become rather good at it. Besides her triathlon experience, she has completed a marathon and seven road races using her handcycle and push-rim wheelchair.

“Erica has an insatiable drive,” said Brian Long, president of the San Diego Triathlon Club and Davis’ swimming partner. “She works so hard at the sport and she’s made tremendous strides in a short amount of time. I’ve never seen her frustrated with the workouts or her situation. She just keeps pushing herself.”

Davis trains like she has something to prove.

“I don’t think she’s trying to prove anything to anyone else,” Ryan Davis said. “I think she’s trying to prove something to herself, that she’s still capable of competing at a high level.”

Davis has also made progress in her other endeavor. Specific movements can coax certain leg muscles to contract. She says some sensitivity has returned and, with some support, she can stand for a few minutes at a time.

Such progress is encouraging, especially because of how little is known about the permanence or severity of her condition. That helps Davis push through the occasional setback and, more important, it fuels her faith.

“I don’t physically get up out of the chair, but sometimes I think I’m just going to stand up,” Davis said. “One day, I believe I will.”

Davis refuses to lie in wait for that moment. She’ll continue to train and make the best of an unfortunate situation. Though she has been out of the hospital for some time, the anti-pessimism law still applies. Davis refuses to let her disability detract from anything, especially athletics.

“You don’t know if you can or can’t do it unless you try,” Davis said. “No (paraplegic) female has finished Kona, but those thoughts of being able to still do the Ironman are motivating factors in everything I do. I had a goal to complete that triathlon by my 30th birthday. Even after all that’s happened, those dreams are still possible.”

You can reach Erica at Erica@TriTeamErica.com