It seems that every month comes with at least one
‘awareness’ tag and one of the causes that is highlighted in April is Autism
Awareness. With a view to raising autism awareness in Durban, local
organisation Breakthrough Inventions (SA)
organised its inaugural ‘The Blue and You Autism Run’ for Saturday 29th
April. Prospective entrants were thoughtfully offered the option of a 5km
run/walk or a 10km run, but when the son-in-law (and father of our Sammy) succumbed
to a rush of blood to the head and signed up for the 10km event, pride
prevented one (being me) from doing any less ‘for the cause’. Ho hum. Contritionem
praecedit superbia and all that.
Now, I used to run. Quite
respectably, if I may say so. And while I never posed a threat to any speed or
distance records, I wore out my share of running shoes on the tarmac. But the
combination of a childhood spent in the ballet studio in the earnest pursuit of
beautiful duck-feet and some twenty years of pounding pavements concentrating
on leaving strictly parallel footprints took an inevitable toll on my hips and knees,
with the result that while there may have been the odd sighting of me on the hoof
in recent years, it has been observed – unkindly if accurately - that hippos
wade through dense water hyacinth faster than I move, even when I am hitting
the high notes on my Fitbit heart monitor. It might also be worth mentioning that I have embraced
a whole new decade since I last ran a 10km event.
However, I am nothing if not
optimistic so I set about escalating my fitness programme from the occasional
gentle 5km shuffle along the uMhlanga promenade to (fairly) frequent forays to
the Palace of Active Virgins, where I could be found burning rubber on the
treadmill for (relatively) prolonged periods.
The results were noteworthy. My Discovery points soared, as did the bank
balance of my friendly physiotherapist. My fitness increased in direct proportion
to the discomfort in my left knee…and hip… but hey, I grew up chanting ‘Go for
the burn’ with Jane Fonda so I pressed on regardless. Qui non dolet non
vincit or, to put it a tad more snappily, nil doloris, nil majoris.
A day or so before the Big Event, I limped off to the physio
and emerged looking like King Tut’s mummy, my left leg encased in eye-wateringly
purple spider tape. Okay, so I chose the colour but what can I say? Go big or
go home. Anyway, I was as good to go as I would ever be.
Saturday 29th dawned all good and clean and fresh
but the tra la la was distinctly lacking in at least one of our party. I mean,
the spirit was champing enthusiastically at the bit but the flesh was
definitely dragging its heels. Particularly the left one. We arrived at the
start with time to spare – enough time, it transpired, for the Other Half, who
was present in his official role of chauffeur and cheerleader (and unofficial
role of amateur paramedic), to fall prey to a fierce attack of FOMO that moved
him to sign up to run the full distance in his civvies. He was heard murmuring (more than once) about the
inherent handicap of wearing heavy cargo shorts but the son-in-law and I,
enveloped from neck to navel in exuberantly blue-and-orange sponsored race T-shirts
that stridently promoted awareness of us, if not of autism, to all but the
profoundly visually-challenged, turned a resolutely deaf ear.
The gun went pop and the modest field of 10km trotters set
off towards Blue Lagoon, where we were to double back and pound along the
Promenade past Sun Coast casino and beyond before turning back towards the
start, at the home of the Natal Mounted Rifles. The course was flat and the
going should have been easy – other than having to navigate the happy hordes of
Park Runners whose awareness of our cause definitely extended to our water
tables, upon which they came down like the legendary Assyrian. Before long the Other
Half was just a dim silhouette in the distance, distinguishable only by his cargo
shorts billowing bravely in the breeze as he dashed to cross the finish line
first. This did not surprise me but the
son-in-law was also exhibiting some nifty ankle-work, which troubled me
somewhat as, based on our training times, I had confidently expected to keep
pace at the very least and perhaps even show him a clean pair of heels. But it
was not to be. Instead, he kicked up his heels and left me trailing ignominiously
in his wake.
I think I can fairly say that I have never experienced a
more miserable run. Everything was wrong; the left side of my body felt weirdly
disconnected from the right, with the result that I couldn’t find any rhythm in
either pace or breathing. By the halfway mark, my left leg was responding
sluggishly and discomfort had long since given way to outright pain. I seriously
considered stopping but, apart from my celebrated strength of mind (certain
ill-disposed persons have been known to call me stubborn), I was doing this for
Sammy so bailing was not an option. And
so it was that, as I grimly plodded along, frustration and humiliation jostling
for the upper hand, I had one of those epiphany things that so many clever people
claim inspired their world-changing discoveries. Like Archimedes when he was relaxing
with his rubber duckies in the bath.
Perhaps my eureka moment wasn’t world-changing in the cosmic
sense but it definitely changed my world because suddenly, I understood what life
must be like for Sammy – not just when he is having a particularly bad day, as
I was, but every day. Everything is always just that bit harder for him, from mastering
physical challenges to making friends, while sensory discomfort and often-crippling
anxiety are his constant companions. He often feels disconnected from the world
in which he has to find his place – and giving up is not a long-term option in
life’s race. No wonder he often explodes in angry frustration. No wonder he sometimes
tells me that ‘God didn’t make me right’ and ‘I think I need a new brain’.
And so, while I was running to raise awareness of autism
among the local population, I took a giant personal step from autism awareness towards
understanding autism - and that, to quote Robert Frost, has made all the difference.
