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  Pops and Me

  July 2016

  When I arrived in Eugene, Oregon, in July for the 2016 Olympic Trials, I knew it would be my final time competing at historic Hayward Field. Some of my proudest professional moments in the sport of track and field have happened here, and it felt right that I would compete to represent Team USA a fourth time in Olympic competition on this track.

  Since winning my first individual gold medal at the 2012 London Olympics, injuries slowed me down. First, it was a busted right toe, finally cracking after years of hard training and racing, and then just weeks before the trials, I pulled my hamstring in a tune-up meet.

  I had barely run in the days leading up to trials, let alone sprinted. Part of me knew my heart was making promises my body wasn’t able to deliver, but my entire career had been built on my ability to look forward, eyes up and head up, hopeful in the pursuit. When we finished the workout the day before my first qualifying heat, Dad was by my side. I looked at him in the twilight and thought how perfect everything was. When it came to race strategy and planning, Dad is my ace, my go-to, my steady. I was thirty-one now, and we started just like this when I was seven—Dad and me shutting down the track, heading home in the last moments of sunlight.

  “Let’s take a walk,” I said to him.

  We walked the oval, and he pointed out specific parts of the track and what he remembered about them. Normally, we’d be going over the race, visualizing how I would run, but this time Dad and I talked about how far we’d come and what a blessing it was to be here. Dad told me how proud he was of me.

  Pre-race Meeting

  August 2012

  The 2012 Olympic Final fell on a Sunday. That morning, I woke up rested and surrounded by my family. I chose to stay with them in a London rented house instead of in the village. Honestly, I don’t think Shari would have allowed it any other way. She was still scarred from my sleepless, strung-out, alien behavior in Beijing. Around family, we are able to charge each other’s spirits. It reinforced our confidence, and we controlled the energy evenly. I had at least thirty friends and family who traveled across the Atlantic for the race, but visitors were managed thoughtfully.

  The morning of the race, Pastor Gaylon Clark, who leads the ministry at my church in Austin, Greater Mount Zion, came by our rented house. What began as a normal conversation with me and my family grew into a devotional, our own special sermon. It was perhaps the only part of the London experience I didn’t imagine or plan in advance. I had promised myself that I’d manage my emotions as much as I could, keep as much as I could for the race, but I allowed myself to experience God that morning on the couch with Ross, Mom, Dad, sister, and aunt. I let the tears flow as I felt God moving in the room. Pastor Clark reminded me that I was running in the race of my life, but it wasn’t on the track. My crown was in heaven.

  After I dressed and readied my hair and face and left to get on the bus for the stadium, Shari turned to Ross and my parents.

  “This is it,” she said. “This is definitely it.”

  Head Up, Eyes Forward

  July 2016

  The day of my final race, I was optimistic. I was excited. I realized I was taking a big chance. That I was risking a lot. There was the issue of my health and my pulled hamstring, which hadn’t had the full six weeks it truly required to heal, and there was also the possibility of epic embarrassment. I could be lining myself up to fail, but I saw this race as an opportunity for my greatest comeback.

  Like he did for all my races, Coach Hart scribbled the timeline of our warm-up routine on a tiny sheet of paper. Every drill was scripted to the minute, and even though I had every fifteen-minute increment memorized, I still found comfort in seeing his handwriting.

  I struggled to get through my 30–60–90 meter progressions. I had the power to burst, but not the strength to shift. Coach Hart told me it might not be a good idea to actually line up and run. Could my leg hold up under the shifting of speed that is required to race a full quarter mile around the track?

  “Coach,” I said, “I didn’t come all this way not to try.”

  Focus

  August 2012

  Everything develops a little slower at the Olympics. They call everyone back to the ready room almost an hour before the race starts, because TV dictates the timing, so we’re all just jogging around, trying to keep our muscles warm and loose and our focus locked and in the zone.

  I thought through my strategy and anticipated what to expect in the race. Coach Hart gave me one last reminder. He told me the Russian runner on my inside starts races like a madwoman.

  “She’s going to come up on you and pass you,” he said. “That’s OK. Let her go. She won’t be able to hold it.”

  Finally we checked in and got our hip numbers. Mine weren’t sticking to my uniform because it was so hot. Oh no. Heat. I drifted back to Beijing. An outside thought. A distraction. I quickly slapped it out of sight, out of mind.

  Final Lap

  July 2016

  The first time I raced at Hayward Field as a teenager, I finished second, and they let me take a half victory lap. The announcer said the fans wanted to keep on cheering me, and it was a good opportunity to introduce myself to them. Every chance I got, I came back and raced on that track, because everyone had welcomed me and embraced me, when all I had given them was the promise for more.

  In the thirteen years since, I worked to earnestly fulfill that promise, and I stood on the track in 2016 as the aging champion, chasing not promise but progress. America’s next promising talent was just a few lanes to my right. Only a few weeks before, Courtney Okolo completed a championship career at the University of Texas, where she broke most of my 400 records.

  What were the chances?

  Dream It. See It. Do It.

  August 2012

  When the camera panned in on me in lane 6 of London’s Olympic Stadium, I made sure to smile and blow a kiss into the camera. Hold my arms up and wave to my front, and wave behind me. Just like I had practiced.

  I kept fumbling with my hip numbers, trying to smack them into sticking despite the hot temperatures. I was in my own little world, until the stadium erupted when they announced Christine Ohuruogu, the British defending Olympic champion. Her native country’s support was loud and demonstrative. I wasn’t anticipating that.

  OK, San, just relax. Breathe. Get back in your zone.

  I didn’t plan for the crowd noise, but Dr. Corley and I did plan for distraction. It would just be a source of motivation to fuel me forward in the process. As my breathing slowed down, I absorbed the energy and eased back into the intensity of the moment.

  What I love about the Olympics, once you get into the blocks, it’s like the whole stadium goes in with you. Everyone is silent and focused. And then, boom.

  “LET’S GO, SANYA!”

  Shifting Speeds

  July 2016

  The race started like every race of my life. The gun goes, and I push out of the blocks. I charge out as hard as I can, but when I got to the backstretch, I knew I was running a different race. My stride couldn’t open, and my legs refused to stretch out underneath me. When it was time to make the turn and really go, I had nothing. The field was moving away from me, and I couldn’t chase them.

  When everything in my being wanted to push forward, to fly down the homestretch of the track one more time, cross the line first one more time, I stopped.

  Sanya, be still.

  And I stopped running.

  First, Finally

  August 2012

  I charged out hard and found a comfortable pace. About 200 meters into the race, the blonde Russian runner passed me on the left. That’s a good thing, I told myself. Just like Coach Hart said.

  At the top of the last turn, all I could think was position, position, position. I didn’t want to give it too much gas and then tie up at the end. Into the last straightaway, I felt American DeeDee Trotter in my peripheral. She pulled ahead.

  No way. She is not
beating me. I worked my arms and asked my legs for one more kick. That gave me enough to get in front of her. Hold on, just hold on and get to the line. Keep your eyes on the line. I dipped my left shoulder, reached out with my right arm, and prayed.

  That was it. I finished first.

  I was the champ.

  A Distinct Voice

  July 2016

  For a moment, I hung my head. This is not the way it was supposed to end.

  Then I heard a voice, this time a woman’s voice, high in the stands above the track. “We love you, Sanya,” she called to me. It snapped me into the present moment, and I lifted my eyes up. There was no exit, no way for me to escape, and so I walked. I walked toward the finish line.

  And would you believe it? The fans stood and cheered. To tell you the truth, it felt just like when they called me by name as my school meet’s Champion Girl.

  I knew all the heart and sacrifice I had committed to my track career, I knew I had earned the distinction, and to hear these people recognize it—to applaud me when I lost a race—lifted my spirits.

  POISE

  When I had the idea to write a book, I decided on my last chapter first. I knew I wanted to end with a victory lap.

  The sport of track and field is unique because it encourages its athletes to take a moment and acknowledge the achievement of conquering a goal that was months and years in the making. It’s a graceful gesture.

  To me, this book was an opportunity to inspire others, and what’s more inspiring than a tale of triumph? My victory lap in London is one of the most vivid memories of my life. I wanted to share that experience with you. All the friends and family who traveled to London were there in the stadium, and as I made my way around, I was able to stop, take photos, and capture the moment with each face. I was able to share the peak of my athletic career with the people who stuck by me and supported me along the way. I was grateful to have individual moments with each of them.

  I also dreamed of another. I imagined circling the Olympic Stadium in Rio, an American flag draped over my shoulders, as I celebrated a second gold medal in the 400. I’d take that final lap and walk off into the sunset of legendary retirement. That would be the perfect ending. But we’re imperfect people living in an imperfect world. Our only glimpse of perfection comes as we fix our gaze on the perfect Champion, the author and finisher of our faith.

  What began at Hayward Field in 2002 with a second-place finish and a celebratory lap was completed there in 2016 with a walk to the finish line. It felt like I was crossing over into my new promised land. It was the beginning—not the end. And I knew this time that defeat had lost its power. That voice calling out to me was the reminder that my Father is watching, and He isn’t finished with me yet.

  My time on the track was finished, but He was just getting started.

  Exactly nine years after my biggest defeat, Ross and I will celebrate our biggest win as we welcome our greatest gift in August 2017.

  The desire to win had me running in circles, searching for answers. And, finally, as I chased my self-worth in gold, I ran right smack into grace.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  God

  I’ve always felt Your presence and the tugging on my heart to share the good news with others. My first platform was on the track, using my talent and resolve as best I could to inspire. Now You’ve blessed me with this incredible opportunity to share my message through the pages of Chasing Grace. I’ve prayed throughout this entire process. You’re in the name; You’re in the cover image; and You’re on every page. I couldn’t have completed this without the courage I find in You, my heavenly Father.

  Family and Loved Ones

  Hubby: You are the greatest image of love and humility I have in my life. You teach me every day how to be a better person. You bring out the best in me. Thank you for always being in my corner, for praying with me as we share some of our toughest moments in Chasing Grace. I stand tall because you prop me up. I love you . . . always and forever!

  Dad: You’re always there! It doesn’t matter if the call comes at 1:00 a.m. or practice at 9:00 p.m. You’re always ready and eager to help me fulfill my passions. No process feels complete without your stamp of approval or your encouraging words. Thanks for your willingness to help me make this book a reality.

  Mom: Thanks for reading every page with me, for jogging my memory and providing the supplements that no one else could! You have an ear and a heart that knows no bounds. This book is everything I wanted because of your guidance. I love you!

  Shari: Even with your newborn son, you made time to listen to all my chapter ideas and attend my family book review sessions. You always make time for me and make space in your heart for my dreams. I love you and appreciate you more than you know.

  Matthew: You’re my youngest cousin, yet your wisdom extends far beyond your years. You saw the vision for the book from the very start and challenged me to stick with it, even when it got hard. Your willingness to travel to Austin from Georgetown University, even with your extensive workload, meant everything to me. I see greatness in you; thanks for pulling it out of me.

  Tash and Yollie, my two cousins who went above and beyond the call of duty: During holidays together, when we should have been relaxing, you guys read, made edits, and encouraged me to trust my instincts and follow my heart. Thanks for always treating me more like a sister than a cousin.

  Rafael & Lahoma: You’ve both been such a blessing in my life. I appreciate your willingness to jump in when I needed you most to help complete my first book! I’m eternally grateful.

  Natalie: Our first book is complete! What a blessing it has been to be on this journey with you. From late-night meetings to more texts and phone calls than we’d like to admit, you made this book a reality. You invested your all, re-creating timelines, watching old videos, doing a few of my toughest workouts—you did everything you could to understand me and my message. I couldn’t be prouder of our work together. Thanks a million!

  My Team: To Carolyn, Tom, Dirk, and the entire Zondervan team, as well as David, Lowell, and Lis at CAA—thank you for believing in me and allowing me to publish my first book! Love you guys so much.

  Run with Me

  The Story of a U.S. Olympic Champion

  Sanya Richards-Ross

  For as long as four-time Olympic gold medalist Sanya Richards-Ross can remember, life has been measured in seconds—the fewer, the better.

  The Jamaican-American sprinter has been a star track and field athlete since she first began racing, ranking No. 1 in the world and bringing home Olympic and World Championship accolades. A role model for runners around the world, Sanya’s incredible success is matched only by her spirit both on and off the track.

  From her early days running in Jamaica to her final race, Sanya shares the importance of determination, courage, and faith. She uses the 4 P’s—PUSH, PACE, POSITION, and POISE—a model created by her coach, Clyde Hart, to tackle every obstacle. In her book, Sanya reveals how these strategies have helped her and will help kids learn how to run their best race in life.

  Run with Me is Sanya’s story—her wins and her losses—chronicling her unique triumphs and trials with fame, family, and faith. Written purposely for the 8–12 audience, this book will inspire kids to pursue their dreams at full speed.

  Run with Me has a beautiful embossed cover.

  Available in stores and online

  PHOTOS

  My sister and me

  My dad and me as he massages my mom’s and sister’s feet

  Winning the 60-meter race against Vanessa while at Vaz Prep

  My freshman year at St. Thomas Aquinas

  My baptism at age thirteen at ChristWay Baptist Church

  Named 2002 Gatorade High School Athlete of the Year

  Pep talk from Dad before competing at the Junior Nationals in Raleigh, North Carolina

  Dad’s Prefontaine Classic ticket

  Competing at the Texas Relays

  Training sessio
n with Coach Clyde Hart

  Supporting Ross after one of his UT football games

  Jamie McDonald/Getty Images

  After breaking the American record in the 400 meters at the 2006 World Cup in Athens

  Mark Dadswell/Getty Images

  In transition—the 4×400 relay handoff in Osaka, Japan, 2007

  sampics/Corbis via Getty Images

  Start of the 400-meter race at the 2008 Olympics in Beijing

  Olivier Morin/AFP/Getty Images

  My disbelief that I blew it

  Jeff Siner/Charlotte Observer/MCT via Getty Images

  My determination to win for my team at the 2008 Olympics

  Fabrice Coffrini/AFP/Getty Images

  Gold medal presentation with my 4x400 relay team at the 2008 Olympics

  Wedding day, February 26, 2010

  J. Phillip/AP/REX/Shutterstock

  Victory in London in the 2012 Olympic Games

  Robert Beck/Sports Illustrated/Getty Images