As millions of Americans face challenges during this pandemic, there has been a drastic uptick in cases of mental health problems, from depression, to anxiety, to suicide.
This summer, that reality hit home for me when Mike Nobles, the father of my daughters’ track teammate, unexpectedly took his own life.
My daughters are part of a tight-knit track family in Bronxville, NY. Their coach, Jim Mitchell, is nationally known for training some of the nation’s top runners. But to the girls, he was head of the “family,” and the “family” was “Mitchell’s Broncos” — plus us parents.
We traveled together, won together, lost together, celebrated together, and helped each other during difficult times. When my daughters were in their junior and senior years of high school, we lost a member of the family. Bronxville junior Delia Hayes’ dad lost his long battle with brain cancer.
Dennis Hayes would trek across any field in the state on New York to see his daughter fly over hills at a cross country meet, even when he was incapacitated by the disease. He always showed up to see his girl and we all felt the love.
It truly was — and still is — a big extended family. We took care of each girl’s injuries, dried their tears and cheered like crazy at the races. Us parents got to every meet early to map out where we each would be on the race course for maximum cheering effectiveness and great photos. My daughters’ dad, Jim Hoffer, along with track dads Peter Rizzo and John Campbell, would run all over the course finding the best spots to cheer quickly and then dash to the finish. We were a bit of SWAT team at these races.
I remember shouting at the first site of the girls in blue emerging around a corner or from a forest. Fellow running moms Beth Campbell and Charlotte Rizzo would sprint around the course with HUGE camera lenses, and let me tell you it was INTENSE! But it was all inspired by our love for these incredible girls who ran like the wind and left it all on the track or race course.
Some of our runners had nicknames —Emilie (pronounced Amelia) was “Meels” and we would shout “MEELS on wheels!” as she ran by. Same with Delia, who we called “Deels.” We just loved them all. I couldn’t help but cry every time our girls crossed the finish line. Whether in first place, fifth, or 25th, I would get weepy. Watching them run so hard for themselves and their team always made me incredibly emotional.









