My Child Came in Last and I Couldn’t Be Prouder
When showing up and finishing is a big deal
Growing up, I was competitive and reasonably athletic. Top three finishes in local cross country races were standard. Regional records, provincial championships not uncommon.
I figured that my children might compete in a similar realm.
I’ve been humbled.
They do it for the love of sports and the fun of it… and fun for them is not necessarily winning.
They are the first to cheer a team mate on and always keen to stick around to ensure no one is left behind.
My oldest is neurodivergent and so showing up in a crowd is a huge achievement — as is making it to the start line.
I am strongly against the “participation” movement where everyone gets a ribbon for showing up.
Yet, my child’s last place finished in a recent track and field race brought me to tears with pride.
It was his first time “qualifying for finals” and the nerves got the best of him.
He qualified in tenth place, out of ten athletes with a time 30 seconds behind the ninth place finisher.
He got lapped in the qualifying round by more than half the pack.
But, he showed up.
And he did it.
In a region of over 600,000 people with three school district competing and only ten kids participate in the 2,000 metre event — my kid was one of them.
Even more, at finals, only seven people showed up.
I am shocked. Dismayed. Saddened.
I understand there will be a drop off in running events from elementary school to middle school, but this decline is unreal.
At 13 years old. Grade eight. 60 pounds. Yes, you read that right — the kid is tiny. He was one of seven to show up.
Sometimes my child’s differing abilities are particularly pronounced — an environment like a track and field meet with hundreds of people is one such an occurrence. Very quickly one recognizes that his brain is wired very differently than the majority of the population.
My child’s nerves were rampant the day before the race.
At two o’clock in the morning, he vomited.
He spent most of the day nearing tears.
My husband and I were uncertain. Do we have him run?
When it came to the race, we opted to be present and cheer on a friend. If then, our child decided to participate — we’d respect his decision. I expressed my concern that if we don’t go to the event, knowing him — he’d likely regret it.
He agreed.
At the race, his nerves were clear and he looked like he was going to be ill. He asked me to go for a walk.
To my surprise, he opted to head to the start line.
We waited for a few minutes before the grade eight’s were called.
He asked to go to the holding area.
As other kids arrived, he asked me to wait back — away from the group.
I could tell that he wanted to go for it.
And, he did.
The first 200 metres, he kept up — before quickly falling to back. Then, 10 metres became 20 and he drifted to more 100 metres behind everyone else before settling into his pace.
Lap one of the five laps complete, he tried not to get sick — gagging and tears in his eyes.
It was painful to watch.
The race monitors stepped in to see if he was okay — and he waved away.
The gap from the lead became 200 metres.
But, he kept going.
Nearly the end of lap three and 1200 metres into the race, the top two runners lapped him.
But, he kept going.
The first two athletes crossed the finish line at the same time as my child began if fourth and final lap and he began to walk — frustrated, angry and many eyes on him, he punch the air before beginning to jog.
Rounding the third to last corner, he fell — right in front of the grandstand.
The crowd gasp.
A teacher came over to help and he pushed her aside — continuing with the race.
The crowd cheered.
Rounding the final corner, the entire stadium rallied. Only, rallying for a child who wants nothing more than to be outside of the spotlight sent him into a panic.
Crossing the finish line, he spoke with race officials and learned his placed sixth — aware as we were so focussed on him, another child step aside during the race.
My child began to melt down…
Exhausted.
Spent.
Drained.
Nothing left but a release of pent up emotions from the 24 hours leading up to this moment…
But, he did it.
It was hard to watch.
Just 12 hours after the race concluded, he woke with the greatest sense of pride…
“Mom, I did it.”
“You did, buddy. You did.”
Parenting pushes you outside your comfort zone more than you’ll ever imagine. But, it’s not about you.
It’s about listening to your child and understanding their needs to guide them when they are uncertain.
It’s about being present — to care for them when they need you most…
And to cheer them on as they cross a finish line in last place because they had the courage to show up — and that’s exactly what you need to do, too.
Forever and always.
Mom first in everything I do. Career in local government. Writer is somewhere in the mix. Editor for The Shortform on Medium. Join me and gain access to unlimited stories (using this link, I earn a small commission at no additional cost to you). Thank you for your support!
