Alison Wimmer was prepared to meet resistance when she asked if her autistic daughter, Sarah, could run on the cross country team at Downers Grove South High School.
After all, girls like Sarah Wimmer typically join Special Olympics programs, not highly competitive high school sports.
Her mother, however, was pleasantly surprised. Not only did the coaches welcome her, but her teammates also agreed to give up some of their own opportunities so she could be part of the team.
It turned out to be a transforming experience and not just for Wimmer. She got a chance to belong and strive, and her teammates, opening their hearts, found new feelings of purpose and unity.
“She made our team so much better,” teammate Danielle Jandris said. “It was something inspiring for us.”
Michael Arenberg, then head coach of the team, realized from the start that the request was an opportunity for the team to grow as well.
“I remember telling the rest of the team … that if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it as a team,” Arenberg said. “We’d need all kinds of help in getting people to run with Sarah.”
When they were introduced to her that first season, most of the girls knew little about autism, a neurological disorder that has left Wimmer with significant challenges. She has limited verbal skills and attends special education classes, except for an algebra course she takes with an aide. Impulsive and occasionally prone to emotional outbursts, she has trouble accepting any change in routine.
Some initially shied away, but one e-mailed Wimmer’s family, asking to learn more, “so she could be the best possible teammate,” Wimmer’s mother said.
During Wimmer’s first two seasons, a different teammate ran with her at each meet, giving up the chance to compete.
“Sarah is just very special to me,” said Jandris, now a senior and the first to volunteer in the fall of 2004. “If I’m having a bad day, it just puts things into perspective. She does have a disability, but that’s not stopping her.”
Running helped ease nerves
Back when their daughter was 3 and John and Alison Wimmer were told she was autistic, they feared she’d face a lifetime of struggle and disappointment. Her elementary school years had plenty of both.
When his daughter reached junior high, however, John Wimmer started jogging with her up and down the leafy streets around their Downers Grove home in an effort to calm her frazzled nerves.
The Wimmers were surprised at how much she enjoyed the exercise and how it helped focus and calm her, so they encouraged it. She participated in the Special Olympics, and the family asked if she could be part of her middle school’s cross country team.
O’Neill Middle School administrators agreed, with the stipulation that an aide run alongside Wimmer at meets and in practice in case she wandered or got frustrated and upset.
When it came time for Wimmer to enter high school, her family figured her cross country days were over. They were encouraged by the team’s warm response, but they were afraid it would be short-lived, either because Wimmer would lose interest or because it would be too difficult to keep her in line.
Alison Wimmer worried that her daughter’s sometimes unpredictable behavior would come into play. Would she run away from the team so fast they couldn’t catch her? Run into traffic during practice? Have a temper tantrum if pushed too hard?
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Yet Sarah Wimmer kept exceeding expectations. “With my husband and me, if there’s one raindrop, she won’t run,” Alison Wimmer said. “So that first day at practice, when it was raining, I went out there and watched. And there she was out there with the girls, and she’s got a big smile on her face.”
Jandris bonded with Sarah Wimmer early, in part because her younger brother, David, suffered from cerebral palsy.
“Danielle really helped the other girls on the team get over their initial fear of dealing with something that they were not used to,” said Doug Plunkett, Wimmer’s assistant coach during her first season, and now head coach.
Wimmer’s participation touched her teammates. At the end-of-season banquet that first year, runners were asked to talk about the highlights of their season, presumably their fastest race or their best run.
“When we handed the girls the microphone, we didn’t know what we’d hear them talking about,” Arenberg said. “But many of them talked about their most special moment being the time they got to run with Sarah. There they were, with their voices cracking. It was everything at that moment that I hoped it would be.”
Not just running, competing
Last year, midway through her second season, Arenberg felt like Wimmer was ready to compete alone. “That day, it was on our home course and at our home park, so I could stand on top of a hill and pretty much see 90 percent of the race,” Arenberg said. “And she did fine with that.
“It’s not just that Sarah runs. She runs near 24 minutes for a 3-mile race. She beats people.”
Now in her third season and still running strong, the 17-year-old continues to inspire. Whereas she barely established eye contact when she first joined the team, now she shakes hands with her coaches, knows most of the girls’ first names and sometimes even breaks into song while running.
Before the start of this season, Jandris’ brother died unexpectedly during a surgery to correct scoliosis. In her grief, Jandris became even closer to Wimmer.
She would run alongside Wimmer at practices, peppering her with questions and engaging her in conversations.
Watching out for Wimmer became a part of the girls’ routine. As they approached intersections along their practice routes, a teammate would gently place an arm on Wimmer’s shoulder, ensuring she wouldn’t bolt into the street.
“I think all of us are more at ease with people with disabilities now,” teammate Alyssa Reynolds said. “I think we’re less judgmental.”
Even after three seasons, the sight of Wimmer so focused still amazes her mother.
“When I was going through the hard times with Sarah, I would have thought she was the least likely person to do this,” she said.
Wimmer hasn’t won a race yet, but, Plunkett said, that’s beside the point.
“I just think when she finishes and she feels like she’s run hard, well that’s her victory.”
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