We took the kids to junior parkrun on Sunday morning. It meant being up and out early, but the sense of satisfaction gained from having undertaken a family activity by 10am on a weekend morning is immense. Max likes running the 2km race, though is perhaps lacking some of the competitive edge of other participants, and since we got an all-terrain buggy for Ben one of us can jog alongside Max while pushing Ben, which they both love. Molly tolerates waiting around until she can go to the playground nearby.
We can’t fit Ben in his normal wheelchair plus his buggy plus the rest of us in one car so we go in two cars and move Ben from the wheelchair to the buggy at the side of the road. We’ve done this a couple of times, and as usual last Sunday we were cutting it fine with timing so arrived as the group were warming up, pleased that it hadn’t started yet. Last weekend it was misty and atmospheric but not too cold. Parkrun is an amazing idea – free communal running, open to everyone, and the junior parkrun is just a slightly shortened, slightly calmer, 2km version of the 5k adult run.
Ben was a bit grumpy as we arrived but we thought we’d carry on and see if he came around to this running idea like he has before. James did the pushing on Sunday and Molly and I waited at the start line, cheering them on as they ran past us at the halfway mark. I could see Ben had perked up. As they came towards the end Ben was smiling and we followed them as Max sprinted to the line. As with all parkruns they had set up a funnel and each runner is clicked in as they cross the finish line and then handed a token as they leave which corresponds to their race time. If you have registered online you have a barcode which you can get scanned with your token and then your time will be recorded online. You can then keep track of how many runs you have done, and what your times have been.
As Max sprinted across the line he was clicked through and then handed a token, and James and Ben followed shortly behind but were not clicked in and so not given a token. James asked for one for Ben but by then the next runner had been clicked through and so it was too late. He continued forward to allow other runners through. As Molly and I caught up with them, James told me that Ben had high-fived one of the organisers as they’d been running, which is a big deal because Ben can’t easily control his arm, and we congratulated him while Max collapsed on a bench and demanded water.
It felt like a shame that Ben hadn’t been given a token like Max. It’s pretty hard to find activities that both boys like doing at the same time, and with the help of an all-terrain buggy and an able parent to push, this is something they can do together. When the boys do things together we try to treat the same, and Ben not being given a token did not feel like treating them equally. As James and I talked about it an organiser came up to ask if everything was okay.
I said it felt wrong that Ben hadn’t been clicked in so given a token and the organiser said that they didn’t give tokens to participants that were pushed over the finish line – children needed to run in order to be registered. He said he hoped I wasn’t disappointed, but I was incredibly disappointed – I had perceived parkrun to be inclusive and welcoming, and refusing to give a token to a disabled child who had done the full 2km run, albeit pushed, did not feel inclusive. They hadn’t come across this situation before, he told me that he’d been at lots of different junior parkruns before and had never seen a disabled child participating so they would need to ask head office for guidance. In the absence of direct instructions I suggested they could have erred on the side of inclusion, which would be to give him a token. I didn’t see how refusing to acknowledge him could be seen as anything but exclusion. I said I didn’t see what the risk was – what’s the danger in giving Ben a token and us being able to see his time? It felt like the person at the finish line had looked at Ben, saw he was disabled, and dismissed him.
It was a small thing but it slightly took the shine off an otherwise fun run. We had wondered how inclusive an event it was when we’d taken Ben previously and mentioned to an organiser that we would push him over the finish line. Their immediate response had been that no adult was allowed over the official finish line, and therefore Ben couldn’t cross it either. When James had pushed back, they had agreed he could cross it but it hadn’t been the accommodating response we have generally become accustomed to. Ben hadn’t been given a token that time but we hadn’t noticed.
I don’t want this to be about this particular organiser of this particular parkrun. In this case the organiser took my email address and contacted me later that day to say that he had found guidance which said it was fine for Ben to participate and to cross the finish line and be given a token. He asked that I register Ben online and we make ourselves known to the organiser at the beginning of the run, and that should ensure we have no problems in future. He dealt with the follow up promptly and effectively.
I do want to make this about how people respond when presented with a disabled person unexpectedly. Parkrun apparently has a policy of not letting parents push buggies over the finish lines at junior parkruns, presumably to stop overzealous keen-bean runner parents overshadowing six year olds or running them over. They don’t want adults crossing the finish line because it’s all about the kids at junior parkrun. Fair enough. But a nine year old disabled child being pushed in a specialist buggy is different. In this case, the people confronted with this difference reverted to the only similar rule they could think of which dictated that Ben should be excluded from the finish line of the run. When challenged, they said they didn’t have specific guidance and so they couldn’t, wouldn’t, give him a token because he can’t run.
This isn’t about the token – I’m not even sure Ben cared that much about the token – it’s an exemplar about what some people do when faced with an unfamiliar situation. Rather than thinking ‘oh, how can we include this person’, they think, ‘oh, he can’t run, so we won’t include him’.
We all find it difficult to be confronted with unfamiliar situations, especially under pressure, especially at 9.20am on a chilly Sunday morning. We are all raised in a society that sees kids who run as the norm. We are all influenced by a society that sees disability as difficult and we can’t help but take this message on board however much we (I) try to unlearn it. But let’s just all try to be the person who errs on the side of including, adapting and being friendly. Let’s not assume that if we don’t know what to do, the best thing is to is say no, exclude and ignore. And then try and justify it when challenged, concentrating on the really specific act of running rather than an overriding ethos of parkruns being ‘for everyone’ (see parkrun website).
Let’s all try to be the person who would just hand over a token to a nine year old boy who had just done a high five and participated in a 2km run.
Let’s keep the fun run mood cheerful and not sour the morning of a family who are really proud of themselves for making it out of the house before 9am on a Sunday morning.
Don’t treat my sons totally differently because one of them can run and the other can’t. People who can’t run can still take part in a run.
Don’t make me say the word ‘token’ ever again.
JUST BE THE PERSON WHO WOULD HAND OVER A FRICKING TOKEN.
(Photos below from the playground, post-run. Obviously it’s another playground where there’s nothing for Ben to do, but let’s not get into that now.)