Race to the Finish

It was a race. A race to the finish. It took a while to explain to Noa that he needed to run to the finish line. To cross the line. To run with the other children.
Noa loves to run. He's actually quite fast.
With his tall, slender body we figured he would be a good runner. Or at least we hoped. We were looking for a healthy outlet for his seemingly neverending energy.

We enrolled in a local track club hoping that Noa would fall in love with Track and Field like his father and I had.

Noa enjoyed running but the crowds and all the parent around made him shy and confused. He didn't see the start line or the finish line. The coach was kind and patient and kept trying to talk with him. Eventually, we figured that it would be better if hubby or I ran with Noa, to keep him focused and help him see the finish line.

To be on the field with the children, we had to don special safety jackets, normally reserved for coaches or race staff. But this was also the jacket given to parent with children with special needs. To let people know that we belonged there. With Noa.

The first race was terrible. Noa ran, but he ran like he wasn't sure, not at all like the confident kid I'd seen streak across the same field days before. He was confused. There was music playing in the distance, the clank of bells for the race across the field, dogs barking. It was too much. He couldn't stay in his lane, he wouldn't finish. 

When we finally got him off the field we took a break, we were all stressed, mostly because this looked like something we were NOT going to be able to do. It took one year of one on one swim lessons to get Noa to learn basics. It took an amazing swim teacher with the patience of a saint. It was daunting and honestly, overwhelming to have to start from the very beginning with something that seemed so simple. 

JUST RUN. That's all. See the start? Start here. See the end? Run to there! Simple, right?

As with anything with a child with ASD what we see and hear may not be so very black and white to them. There was no 'why' to this task. Why should I run from this white line to the other white line? There is no reason. This is what I saw in Noa's face. There was no good reason. We WANTED him to run, but he saw no purpose in the exercise.

So like anything, we had to fall back and determine if this was "right" for him. What is the purpose? Are we here cause we are still trying to maintain the dream of "normalcy"? So we can say that our child plays football/baseball/basketball, etc? Are we continuing to press upon him our dreams and goals?

We left that day, with little pieces of paper giving us Noa's finishing times....dead last in everything. 

The next week, on Friday night, Noa asked "Are we going to track on Saturday?"

I was shocked as I assumed that he didn't care for it.

"Why, do you want to run tomorrow?"

He tilted his head, looked down at drawings and said, "Yes. I have track."

So with that decision made, we were off to track again the next morning.

I donned my bright yellow security jacket along with my hubby. We decided who would run along side Noa and who would be at the finish line to guide him.

We were put in lane 8, the outside lane which would allow me to run along side him.

I watched as the coach went to explain to Noa to run TO his daddy waving at him at the finish line. 

Noa responded with a random question and coach patiently answered and told him again what to do.

On Your Marks! 

(Noa wasn't)

Get Set! 

(Noa wasn't)

GO!

The gun went off and Noa started more than a second after. 

I started running along with him.

"Come On Noa! Lets run to daddy!"

He ran, seeing his dad yelling at the finish line. 

His little legs became a bit faster.

All the other children started crossing the finish line.

We were still running, fast but not fast enough.

Noa was fixated, ran and crossed the finish line.

The children cheered for him.

The race staff applauded. 

Noa was happy. 

He was liking this attention. 

I was winded....(Didn't realize how out of shape I was!)

Noa proudly took his little paper, showing his time and his position (last). But he held onto that paper.

It was his.

He raced and he made it. He enjoyed it.

The day ended and we packed up to go home.

Noa still held on to his slip of paper, announcing his last-ness.

But to him, it was a paper that showed he won.

He finished.

We all made it over another hurdle.

Last place but another first.