My race of life

Yesterday I ran in the American Fork Canyon run against cancer half marathon.

One of Jake's high school friends had formed a team to run in his honor and with several more of Jake's high school friends, our family members and friends from Phoenix we formed team "In memory of Jacob Robertson."

I wasn't emotional at all yesterday, but rather felt so grateful and buoyed up from the love of many people who would come and run for Jake. Who love him and miss him too. I was also excited at the prospect of running in a race. I love the energy at a big race and was riding on cloud nine.

But I wasn't unaffected by the experience. You can't be at a race where you know that everyone running has been affected in some way by cancer. Where you see signs all along the route of love and encouragement and remembrance to and from beloved family members and friends. And tonight, once the kids were in bed and I had some time alone with my thoughts the tears and the feelings came.

I cried and cried as once again my heart ached for my beloved spouse. My companion. My true love. My Jacob. 

And my thoughts took me back to a time more than 7 years ago when I ran the Huff to Bluff marathon from Blanding to Bluff, Utah. I wrote all about it HERE. 

In January of 2011 I was finally having a moment to reclaim my body. I'd been either pregnant or nursing for nearly 6 years straight and was looking forward to the chance to exercise regularly/predictably again. After asking a good friend in Phoenix if she'd like to run a 10K race, she told me how instead she and her husband were training for a marathon in May and asked if I would be interested in running it with them.

Without thinking I said yes, and thus ensued my training from couch to marathon in 5 months. I almost backed out, but Jake reminded me that a commitment is a commitment and encouraged me to stick it out. 

So I did. 

I ran and ran and ran. I got a gym membership and ran my weekday runs on a treadmill while the girls played in the gym daycare. My friend and I found babysitters to stay with our kids for several Saturday long runs. And Jake took many shifts early in the morning for hours at a time to watch the kids so that I could train. I remember once running from our house to his work (about 15 miles) and having him pick me up in the van loaded with our girls and taking us all to breakfast. 

Race day came in May and Jake and I loaded up in his car to drive 6 hours to Blanding. My brother and sister-in-law kindly watched the girls that weekend and Jake and I enjoyed the trip together. We arrived the night before the race and stayed in a small hotel. I was SO nervous and worried about the race, but in his usual way Jake was able to calm me down and give me encouragement. He drove me to the starting line and stayed with me until the start,  reminding me of my training and telling me that I could do it. I could hear him cheering for the first many yards of the race. Even as we got going and I couldn't see him anymore, I knew that I was in his thoughts and that he was cheering me on. 

I ran the whole race and ended up doing better than I anticipated. With his busy schedule, Jake had work to do on one of his cases and spent the marathon in our hotel room working away at his computer. We decided that he would not be there along the course. He would see me off at the start, I would call him with a report halfway through the race and then he'd be there to celebrate with me at the end. 

I called him halfway, giving him a slower estimate, and so as I approached mile 25 I called in a panic telling him that I'd be finishing nearly 20 minutes faster than I anticipated. He told me later that he grabbed keys and flew out the door- driving like a demon to get to the finish line in time. He pulled up just as I was at mile 26 and was there to cheer me on for the last .3 miles of the race and watch me cross the line. 

Jake was so supportive after the race, nearly crying when he thought he would miss me finish the course, letting me rehash it all with him, telling me how proud he was of me, tending to my every need and driving me safely home. 

And as I reflected on my first marathon experience I realized that in many ways it is an analogy for the rest of my life. 

I started out this race- this family- our nearly 12 years of marriage- with my dearest friend and companion by my side. 

Jake helped me prepare, he gave me encouragement and he saw me off at the starting line. 

But now I run the race alone. 

Each of the miles, each milestone, each new challenge, each hill to climb are mine to tackle. 

He is not there along the course, although I know he is aware and concerned and cheering for me as I run. 

And so I run.

I keep going. I find strength from the Savior, from friends and family members, from our children, from within. 

And I run.

I may only be at the start of this long race of life without Jake, with two years down and dozens to go but it gives me great hope that if my marathon is analogous to my life, then maybe I will do better than I think. That I won't quit. That I will keep going and surprise us both with the results. 

And I love to picture that in a distant day my sweet Jake will be racing to meet me when it is time for me to cross the finish line.  That he will make it, even just in the nick of time, to embrace me, to say how proud he is of me, to stay with me and to lovingly take me home.