It was 1989, I had just graduated from High School and it was my first summer working with the Special Olympics.  I had volunteered that spring and was assigned as a trainer for a young man named Tommy.   Tommy Johnson was eighteen years old, had Downs Syndrome, and was a delight to be with.  Tommy wore a perpetual smile and was quick to laugh and give a big thumbs up to everyone he saw, peering at the world through his thick, coke-bottle glasses, which he polished habitually.  Standing just under five feet tall, Tommy was everyone's friend.  His race was the long 1/4-mile run, the full lap around the track.

I would stand at the finish line and call out as he rounded the final corner,

"What are we going to do, Tommy?"

"We're gonna win!" he would shout back.

We hit the track every Saturday for the six weeks preceding the race, and Tommy's time slowly improved until he was making the finish line in just less than three minutes.  We would follow up our practice with a trip to the local burger joint, where Tommy would tell the waitress, every week, that he couldn't have French fries because he was in training. He was going to win a gold medal and could he please have a salad.

As summer neared, the girls at the restaurant would all come over to ask him what his best time was, and how practice went, they patted him on the back and wished him luck. Tommy basked in their adoration.

The day of the race finally came, I picked up Tommy in my van, his mother kissing him goodbye and telling him she would be there for the race.  We loaded up his gym bag and drove to a local high school where the Olympics would be held.  Tommy was so wound up he could hardly sit in his seat, his hands drumming constantly on his knees, stopping only to polish and re-polish his glasses.   We arrived, parked and signed in, getting our race assignment and number.  It was then, on our way to the sidelines, that I realized that something was wrong.

"Tommy," I asked, "where are your glasses?"

Tommy stared back at me, blinking owlishly, "I dunno…"

I got Tommy started on his stretching, and went back to search the van.  Top to bottom, end to end, no glasses.  All I could think was that he must have set them on the dashboard and they were blown out the open window.   I walked back through the parking lot but there was no sign of the missing glasses.

When I returned to the field, Tommy had finished stretching and was jogging in place, keeping his legs warm.  Knowing that Tommy was nearly blind without his glasses, my heart was breaking as I sat him down on the bench.

"Tommy, I don't know if you're going to be able to race today," I started.  Tommy was quiet as him chin began to tremble.

"I just don't think it's safe," I continued, "without your glasses, you could get hurt."

His eyes began to fill.

"But, we're gonna win." He said, his voice cracking, "I'm going to win a medal."

I sat there for a moment, struggling with my own disappointment and Tommy's.  Then a thought struck me.

"Come with me, Tommy."

We walked over to the track and I stood him in his lane. I pointed to the white line on his right, "Can you see that line?"

Tommy peered at his feet, "Yes"

I pointed to the line on his left, "How about that one?"

"Yes"

"Ok," I said, "Now this is important, Tommy, if you run today, you have to keep your eyes on those two lines, you have to watch very carefully, and not cross out of them. Can you do that?"

"Yes"

Still unsure, but out of options, I led Tommy back to the starting area.  He walked haltingly, squinting his eyes, one hand slightly out in front of him.

"Is Mom here?" he asked.

I scanned the bleachers until I found her and waved. She waved back.

"Yeah," I said, "She up in the stands watching"

Tommy waved in the wrong direction.

The other coaches and I got our runners into their lanes, and then headed down toward the finish line to cheer them on.  The starting gun fired and they were off! Tommy was doing well, holding steady in second place until they rounded the first corner.  Another boy swerved from his lane into Tommy's and Tommy lost site of his white line.  I winced as I watched one sneakered foot catch the back of the opposite leg and send him sprawling onto the tarmac.

Tommy had fallen before, and he seemed ok this time.  He scrambled to his feet and, pausing to squint at the track, he found his lines and started off again, limping slightly on his left foot.  The rest of the boys had passed him and he was about a quarter track behind.   He ran doggedly, arms pumping at his sides, around the far corner and into the straightaway.   Just as he was starting to gain on the last boy, his foot slipped again and he dropped to the track, rolling onto his side and groping blindly around him for balance.

I groaned, and started forward, but Tommy rose to his knees again. He was crying now, and almost started back the wrong way but turned at the direction of the pointing crowd.  Now he was limping heavily, worn out, his arms hanging limply.  Twenty feet from the finish line he fell again.

It was too much, and I was going to stop it, but as I stepped out onto the track to lead Tommy to the sidelines, I felt a hand on my arm.  I turned to look and found Tommy's mother, tears standing in her eyes, standing beside me. 

"He'll be okay," she said, "Let him finish."  Then she stepped past me and walked over to stand next to the finish line. 

"Tommy," She called over the crowd, "It's Mom, can you hear me?"

Tommy's sweaty, tear stained face came up, searching blindly through a sea of blurred faces.

"Tommy", she called, "Come this way honey…"

I watched Tommy Johnson rise to his feet for the third time, his palms and elbow were scraped and blood trickled from his knees, but he stood back up and began hobbling toward the finish line once more.

"This way Tommy," his mother called again, and Tommy's face broke like the sun through the clouds, a bright wide smile on his face, as he crossed the finish line and fell into his mother's arms.

As I ran toward them, through the roaring applause of the crowd, I could hear Tommy asking his Mother again and again,

"I won, Mom! Did you see me win?  I won!"

Tommy took home two Gold medals that day, one for his race and one for best spirit. 

He earned them both.