The Biggest Race

The Day Our Autistic Son, Scott, Broke through Society's Limits

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It was a beautiful day at Ford Field, a large park in our hometown of Livonia, Michigan.  A small group of parents and middle school athletes  gathered on a sunny October day for a cross country meet.  It was a relaxed atmosphere, as parents gathered to meet with their friends.  Other parents admired pets, and celebrated  new babies.  The boys poked and shoved each other, sharing the rowdy jokes of pre-teen boys, while the girls, keeping their distance, cast them dirty looks, and wondered why they should be attracted to the opposite sex.

It was as if the event of the day, the cross country meet, was of secondary importance to socializing.  To everyone, that is, but our family.  Scott, one of the athletes, was off by himself, gazing intently at the course, watching the clouds for rain, and sizing up each runner.  It was his pre-race behavior ritual.  Then, as  before every race, he came to Dad to ensure his shoelaces were properly tied and to receive his pre-race pep talk.

As I looked around, I thought to myself “Why aren’t you more excited?   Don’t you know what this day means?”  Then I thought “Of course not!  How could they?  They’ll never understand what we all had to do to get here.  No one but us and the Lord ever will.”

I looked at Grandma and Grandpa, saw the pride on their faces, and thought I detected a small tear going down both of their cheeks.  “They get it,”  I thought, and knew they did.  

Then I saw a reporter from our local newspaper, and a photographer carrying a huge camera.  I felt relieved, that they understood this moment's significance.  Also excited, that our son might finally receive  recognition for his hard work.

Now he was at the starting line.  It had come to this, the city middle school championship.  The months of double workouts, strategizing, talking to coaches from opposing schools to get maps of the courses so he could run the course before each race and not get lost, and countless discussions with his coach.  He had won every  race  that year, but this was the big one, the chance to show his prowess.  In a sense, the  season was a competition not against the other athletes, but the unseen, misunderstood malady of autism.

Initially, he seemed to be toying with his competition, sizing them up, establishing a rhythm.  By the end of the first mile, he had had enough, and claimed a burst of speed which easily outdistanced them all.  He won comfortably, hardly breaking a sweat.  I could barely see the end of the race through my tears.  He had won, broken down another “can’t do it” barrier.  I wondered how many more barriers he would face.

We swarmed around him – his three brothers, my husband and myself, grandparents, reporter, photographer, coaches, and his teammates.  He looked confused by the attention, as if he couldn’t understand why we were excited by what he thought was a foregone conclusion.

Maybe then, it was a “foregone conclusion,” but 10 years earlier, there was nothing but pain, confusion, and uncertainty about  whether, with his autistic behaviors, he would ever fit into society.  Only God knew that there was a pearl inside the impenetrable autistic shell that seemed  impossible to crack.  The discovery of that priceless, hidden pearl is a journey to  be shared.  Not only for memory preservation, but as a statement to those who struggle with a disability or serious discouragement that there is hope.  

Note:  We never would have reached this point with Scott without the assistance and co-operation of some gifted educators!  Learn how to receive what is available to your child, and how to be their strongest advocate.  For more information, click here.

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