able

I’m in the balcony of a large sports complex looking over a green railing. Down below, amidst the energy and positivity created by the upbeat music and many volunteers, athletes are getting ready for the first event. This is the second day of Able Games 2023, a functional fitness competition for athletes of all abilities, bringing them together to compete on the same floor. It is the brainchild of a local organization called TNT Kids Fitness and Fargo native and NFL Jets Center, Connor McGovern.

Todd joins me at the railing just as Micah begins lifting two black 10-pound weights from the ground and pushing them over his head—up, down, up, down—over and over. His body is slender and tall; the low muscle tone he once had has given way to, if not muscular, at least a sturdier frame.

“C’mon, Micah. You can do this!” Keaton, a local college student and his co-ability partner, yells. Micah thrusts the weights above his head with gusto.

“Goooo, Micah!” I wonder if he can even hear me. But, despite my cheering getting lost in the loud atmosphere, he looks confident and capable. It makes me happy to see him so comfortable in this environment.

But it hasn’t always been this way; Micah’s journey with TNT and the fitness world began almost thirteen years ago.

In 2010, at age three and a half, our son did not talk (screaming was his way of communicating), was not toilet trained, and struggled with sensory issues. He couldn’t push himself on a riding toy or peddle a tricycle. I brought him to physical, occupational, and speech therapies on a weekly basis. But my desire was to find an activity that might bring him joy while at the same time aid in his development.

Someone suggested hippo therapy. The slow gait of horses was supposed to help those who had sensory issues. We gave it a whirl, but Micah had no tolerance for the required helmet. He screamed from the time he got on until the time he got off.

One afternoon, as I’d watched Micah being led around the corral, I shared my frustration with another mom. She suggested TNT Kids Fitness and a young man named Nate who worked with kids with special needs. “You really should give him a try,” She coaxed.

I wasted no time. Within the week, we were in the facility’s entrance waiting for Nate to come and introduce himself.

Suddenly, he walked in–hair cut military-style, looking boot-camp fit, with a huge smile on his face. The energy in his voice matched the way he looked. His eyes were kind, and I instantly felt comfortable with him.

“Are you ready, Micah? Should we go jump? Let’s go into the gym.”

I stayed near the entrance and watched as Nate led Micah to one of the floor trampolines. He held Micah close to his body and began bouncing very gently. But Micah was not having any of it—his screaming started immediately. Undeterred, Nate kept jumping with him. Micah continued to scream at the top of his lungs.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes, I walked toward them. “You know, I don’t think this is working. I don’t want to put you through this trouble. Maybe we should just wait awhile…try again in a few months or so.” I said apologetically.

“Please…just give me ten more minutes with him,” Nate implored. “I know I can get him to calm down.”

I was astounded by the patience of this man. Who in their right mind would want to endure more of this torture? But I returned to where I’d been watching and waited to see what would happen.

I don’t know whether Micah just became tired or if he just gave in and started trusting. All I know is that after another ten minutes, my son was peacefully jumping on the trampoline with Nate’s arms around him for safety. And he was smiling.

We returned the next week, and the next, and the next. Before I knew it, our son was having the most fun he’d ever had–jumping, climbing, rolling–doing whatever it was Nate had for him to do. Weeks turned into months; months turned into years. I would pick Micah up from school, and he couldn’t wait to get to TNT so he could jump his heart out on the trampoline.

As Micah’s needs changed (he grew out of needing Nate’s help), TNT expanded and added more programs. We enrolled him in their after-school program and summer day camps. I started to dread the day when there would be nothing left for him to participate in. Soon he’d be a teenager and too old for anything they offered.

But then, to my delight, TNT developed something new called No Limits, a fitness class for teens and adults with special needs. Twice a week Micah and his exercise group work out together starting on machines like the elliptical, bike, or rower. Afterward, they move to a different gym where they do a workout involving calisthenics and weights. He has learned how to be coached in this setting, how to follow directions, how to push himself harder, how to encourage others.

Many times, I have prayed to God to help me on this journey of raising Micah. Sometimes I don’t realize the full extent of who or what He’s put in our path until years later. This year’s Able Games is one of those moments in time when I have realized that provision: the people, the community, the opportunities that have all contributed to Micah’s ableness.

I am humbled and grateful at God’s faithfulness to us. Because I know that ultimately, He is the one that is most able.