Lucas needs to get out more. There’s no debate about that. My non-verbal 13-year-old is content at home, preferring the comfort of staying still and staying indoors.

Over the years, I’ve often found myself on the losing end of a stroll. Frustrated by the trek, my son would stubbornly sit on the ground, refusing to take another step. As one of the only people who can physically get him to stand up during those moments, I can tell you, it’s no easy task.

So, this past week when my girlfriend Lauren and her son, Lucas’s best friend Christian, joined us for a walk to the Fire Island Lighthouse, I had some trepidation.

Although I’m from Long Island, I’m not an “Islander” in the Billy Joel sense. I don’t drive boats, and I rarely even went to the beach before the last few years. So my understanding of what a walk to the Fire Island Lighthouse entailed was far from reality.

Lucas will be fine. We can do it.

Yeah, I said that. Then reality came around to play.

We pulled into the parking lot at Robert Moses, and it was Lauren who suggested that we park close to the walking path. It was a genius suggestion because the giant parking lot would have added to our journey. Every step counted. Seriously.

My son was whining before he got out of the car and almost immediately broke into his defensive mode. Digging his feet into the gravel, he planted his weight firmly, and soon I was tugging on his arm to get even the first few steps out.

Torture? A bit. But it couldn’t be that long of a walk, right? After all, you could see the lighthouse in the distance.

The far distance. The far, far, far distance.

I say that because a one-mile stroll in the heat is nothing for me. I love walking and spent so much of my youth wandering around. For exercise or peace, I never mind a good walk. Lucas – not so much. I knew it then. I know it now. I knew it the second we started walking.

Christian shares many of the characteristics that my son has…except that he doesn’t mind moving his feet. He was a champ the whole time and became the example I would point out to my unhappy little traveler whenever he’d sit on the ground or suddenly sprint toward one of the many benches along the way. It was getting ridiculous.

Come on, kid. Look. Look how Christian is walking. You have this. You’re young. Get moving.

He took turns cuddling up to Lauren and me in pretty dramatic fashion. You’d think he was marching to Guam. Still, to his credit, Lucas kept going, and soon we reached a road that I thought marked the end of our long and arduous journey.

Nope, it turns out that was just the halfway point. I kid you not. It felt like the scene in Blair Witch when they realize they passed the same log twice. We still had a ton of walking to do, and my guy was ready to tap out of life. He was now seated in the middle of this unpaved street and steadfast in his refusal to budge. It felt like I was slipping deeper and deeper into quicksand with each step.

Still, after a short bit of encouragement, my son persevered, and aside from a few tugs of war, Lucas made it to the lighthouse without incident. We had finally done it. I was so proud of him.

Then, with one question, a terrifying reality hit me.

Hey, maybe I can leave you guys here and run back to the car to pull around. He’s not going to want to walk all the way back. Where can I bring the car around?

Lauren presented an answer that I wasn’t prepared for.

You can’t bring the car around. We’re on Fire Island. We have to walk back.

With that, the world imploded. My son, a puddle of sweaty unhappiness, was half asleep on a hard wooden bench. I had spent the last forty minutes promising him “just a few more steps.” Now, we had to do it all again.

What the hell were we going to do? Buy a wagon and pull him? Create a makeshift platform for us all to carry him on? My brain searched for any possible solution.

All I knew was that there was no doubt in my mind that he wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. There was no way that Lucas was going to walk back.

And then he did.

In what was one of my proudest fatherly moments, my little man put one foot in front of the other and, through only minor protests, he did the full walk back to the car.

It still blows my mind to think about it. Had you asked me when we were standing at the lighthouse, I’d have said that I expected us to still be there now, as I write this days later. I could see us setting up camp, building a makeshift hut, and eating tourists we trap along the walkway. I was ready to forward our mail and call him out of school for the year.

But that didn’t happen. He did it. Maybe it was seeing how nicely Christian had done it. Perhaps it was recognizing the faith that Lauren and I had put in him to complete this journey. Maybe he just realized it wasn’t that big of a deal. Either way, my little man crushed it. I never dreamed he would. He earned his sleep that day.

Symbolic? Absolutely. There’s no path that Lucas and I can’t conquer together, especially when surrounded by love and support. Nothing can stand in our way, and even the toughest destinations are within reach when we tackle them together.

I believe in Lucas, and he knows I do. That’s all it takes to give him the strength to do things we never thought he could.