A Different Vision

"Kris can do many of the things that anyone else can," he says, sitting in the living room of their Baltimore County rowhouse while Tanner and Riley play on the rug. "She may have to do it differently. But she certainly has a level of creativity in thinking outside the box. And she's incredibly capable."

She has developed systems for getting things done. A prolific reader, she uses a computer that translates text into speech to read documents, surf the Web and respond to e-mail. She listens to audio books on her iPod, and often takes notes on a small electronic Braille machine during meetings.

Her mother, Connie Merrill, who divorced and remarried while Kristen was in elementary school, says her daughter never gave up the sports that she played as a girl. She'll kick a soccer ball with a bell in it around the back yard with her boys. She runs (on a treadmill or with a guide), bikes (on a tandem), hikes, takes spinning classes and, next spring, is planning to compete in a triathalon with first lady Kendel Ehrlich.

Ehrlich remembers being surprised, when she first met Cox at a lunch on Capitol Hill several years ago, to learn that she was blind, in part because of her habit of turning her gaze to whomever is speaking.

"She works hard to make her blindness not be the mainstay," Ehrlich says. "It's understandable how it kind of always gets back to that, because I think most people imagine 'How would I handle that?' "

Her selection is a good play for Ehrlich, political analysts say. Before asking her to join the ticket, the governor was sinking in the polls, particularly among suburban women voters. Since then his numbers have improved, though it's difficult to attribute that directly to her. But she softens his image on social welfare issues, says Edward D. Berkowitz, professor of history and public policy at George Washington University. More important, Berkowitz says, it reinforces the idea that he values people who have helped themselves and made their own way in society.

It's a subject she often returns to on the campaign trail.

"Track record is one of the best indicators of future performance," she likes to say before launching into the highlights of Ehrlich's tenure.

"I don't like these mingly things," she says after attending a private fundraiser at the home of a supporter whose pink Mary Kay Cadillac is parked out front. "I'm not a big social person, not a fluffy froufrou."

Even so, she waded into a group of supporters at the event, and addressed them by name throughout the evening after they introduced themselves. At one point, Cox empathized with a businessman in the horseracing industry about the need for slot machines at racetracks. Then she suddenly sounded a different note from the empowered, can-do administrator who spoke at the senior housing project. "It's very difficult to get things done sometimes," she said. "Mike Miller is president of the Senate. He basically told the governor when he took office: 'We'll work with you for three years. The last year we'll make your life absolutely impossible.' And I think that has happened, and it's bad policy."

The group clapped energetically, and then Cox made her exit, sinking with relief into the back seat of the Yukon for the long ride home.

Self-Sufficient Ways

One of the things Cox has learned to deal with is the assumptions that people make about her. Oftentimes, crowds part to let her through. At a recent campaign event, a man tried to take her by the elbow to guide her to a podium.

At moments like this, she thinks about what to say, weighs whether to say anything at all. It's not that she's ungrateful, but this is just not what she needs.

At yet another meet-and-greet, she tucks her elbow into her side, steps to the front of the room and introduces herself.

"I'm not here to say I'm going to solve all your problems, because we probably can't," she says. "What I like to talk about is empowering people."

"Get out of your comfort zone," she says. "Be brave."

Staff writer David Montgomery contributed to this report.