Everyone who ever interviewed me always asked the same question, "Why do you do it?" My two word answer was always the same, "For him" I would whisper. I don't know if anyone ever wondered who I was talking about. I had been running in Seattle's Race for the Cure for years, I actually couldn't remember the last year I didn't run in it, wait it was 2014. I try to forget that year, it was the year I lost my best friend.
'For Him' I would tell myself as the final miles started to fade away, as I pulled away from the pack to finish in the top 5. News reporters and spectators always wondered why I, the girl who did not cry, always crossed the finish line with tears threatening to spill over my eyes.
When the race was over, my emotional armor was back on, the walls I erected to keep people out of my life were once more a foreshadowing in my mind.
When the road was rough and the race became almost too hard to continue, it became my chant, "For him, for him, for him…." It was in those minutes that I could feel his gaze, that reassuring hand on my shoulder, gently pushing me forward. I could hear his voice whispering in my ear, just above the pounding of my heartbeat, "You can do it Princess, I know you can."
When I finished first all I wanted was for him to sweep me into his arms and hold me, to whisper sweet words in my ears, drowning out the cheers of the crowd. Make me forget my racing heart and heaving breathes.
When I broke the Lavender and silver Ribbon that signaled my finish, I didn't stop until I stood before my other best friend and her husband. Then I saw his image, standing there, clutching Carly's pant leg. I spread my arms wide and he ran to me. I scooped him into my arms and squeezed, I heard him giggle and whisper in my ear, "For Dad"
Freddie and I were married for only a little bit more than a year before an unknown tumor in his brain took his life suddenly. He would never get to see his son grow up, never get to see his first girlfriend, or hear about his first kiss. I was once more threatened with tears when I felt that reassuring hand again on my shoulder.
"Your strong Sam, I know you can make it. I will see you two again."
I could hear that famous Benson smirk in his voice, my heart weighed heavy, but I squeezed our son and I lowered him to the ground, holding his hand we walked towards the throng of reporters who would always ask the same question.
"Why do you do it?"
"For Him." I smiled to the sky where I knew Freddie was watching, I knew he was proud of me, and of his son. And I still loved that nub of my heart.