Tracy Roberts and her running family. (Love the pudgy legs on number 232: built for speed!)
On January 16, 2009, my world came crashing down. At the routine 20-week ultrasound of my third child, I got the dreaded news that there was no longer a heartbeat. About 24 hours later, I delivered my third daughter, Jamie Lynn, at 5.7oz and 7.5 inches long.
For months, I was a train wreck. With two older girls at home, I didn’t know how to release the sadness I had inside of me. A good friend who began running after beating cancer invited me to do a 5K. But I wasn’t sure; I wasn’t the runner in my family. My husband did marathons and half marathons–and for years, encouraged me to try it. I would have brief stints when I would run on the treadmill, but I hated it.
But I tried again, and my “first” run was about 4 months after my daughter was born. I did a two-mile-loop in my neighborhood by myself. Although I remember it being slow and painful, I also remember the emotional release that accompanied it. Four weeks later–I was on a fast track–I did a 5K with my friend. I was psyched to finish it, but I was disappointed that A) I didn’t run the whole thing and B) I missed the time goal my husband had put in my head by seven seconds. Needless to say, I had clearly caught the running bug.
Each run, each race was dedicated to my little girl, because running was the one place where I could lose myself—and that she was always present. At times I cried, at times I prayed, at times I just jacked up the music and angrily pounded the pavement. It always always seemed that when the run got hard or I wanted to give up, “Walk On” by U2, the song I dedicated to her, would come on my iPod and I would keep truckin’, usually with tears in my eyes.
That summer, I convinced a few friends to start running. I loved how empowered running made me feel, and I wanted to share that feeling with people I loved. I was also convinced I would never go more than a 5K. Almost a year and a half later, I delivered my fourth child, a little boy. My runs following his birth became even more important to keep Jamie’s spirit alive. Last November, thanks to a little friendly family competition, I PR’d in a Turkey Trot (25:33). A few months later, I ran 7 miles on an unusually warm, rainy New Year’s Eve and decided to sign up for my first half in June.
I dedicated my first half to Jamie, but it was 89 degrees with crazy humidity, and the organizers stopped the clocks in the middle of the race, which was frustrating. (I was stubborn and ran to the finish line.) So ZOOMA Great Lakes is my redemption race! Not only will I run in it in honor of my third child. I will run it for all of my kids and for all of the people who carried me through my darkest days. My sister will be running the 5K, along with 2 of my girlfriends; all three of them started running because of me–and, really, because of Jamie. Thank you, sweet girl.
