Cross-country coach Wayne Roberts, 68, never let anything stand in the way of his 36-year running streak.

The knee-deep snow that piled up outside his rural Michigan home was never an obstacle—he put a plow on his truck and cleared a mile-long path.

The two sprained ankles from basketball and a gash in his calf from a stray piece of firewood both slowed his pace to a shuffle at one point, but he still logged at least three miles a day.

Not even the heart attack he had in 2012 could stop him. He demanded that the doctors put the stent in through his wrist, not his groin, so he could run the next day. The cardiologist cleared it—but did suggest Roberts’ wife Sandra go with him.

This past October 24—his 13,459th day of running in a row—Roberts put on his bright-orange jacket, headed out for his afternoon run along Freiberger Road in Moore Township, and didn’t return. He wound up in a ditch, the victim of a hit-and-run accident that caused a traumatic brain injury and a devastating end to his run streak.

He was out of commission in the hospital for a week, barely able to get out of bed, let alone run. Then he spent another four in rehab.

“I was very depressed for a couple of weeks. I’d spent so much time, and then all my time didn’t count anymore,” he told Runner’s World this December.

* * *

In the 1960s, Roberts said he was an overweight, out-of-shape smoker studying physical education at Northern Michigan University. Eventually, he realized he wouldn’t set much of an example for his students. Plus, many family members had died early of heart disease.

In his classes, he discovered research linking running to weight loss and better cardiovascular health. He gave it a try, and a year later, he was down about 50 pounds—and hooked.

“Once I started running, everything in my life changed,” he said.

The idea for the streak came when he got a new running log for Christmas in 1980. He held it up next to his 1979 log and noticed how many days were blank.

“I thought to myself, gee, I’ve got a brand new year. I’ve got a brand new book. I wonder how many days I could run before I have a day that was left open,” he said.

Roberts decided he’d challenge himself by aiming for at least three miles a day. “If I’m going to do this, let’s make it more than running outside for five minutes and you’re done,” he said.

Over the years, his passion for the sport flourished, as did his career coaching track and field and cross country at Sandusky High School. His teams won one state and four runner-up titles, along with 10 regional and 19 conference championships. In 1996, he was inducted into the Michigan High School Coaches Association Hall of Fame.

His athletes recall him as tough but fair, a man of integrity who led by example. “If he asked, we did, and he must know what he’s doing because we won a lot,” said Chad Rich, a five-time state champ in track and cross country who attended Sandusky High School from 1990 to 1994.

Another former athlete, Richie Brinker, credits Wayne with recognizing his potential despite a less-than-stellar time in his first cross-country race in 1990 (he ran the 5K in about 23:30).

Brinker went on to run for Central Michigan University and then professionally for the Hansons-Brooks Olympic Development Program, eventually running a 13:54 5K and qualifying for the 2004 Olympic Trials in the 10,000 meters.

“If it wasn’t for him, I don’t known where I’d be—I don’t even know if I would’ve gone to college,” said Brinker, now 40. “Basically, I went to college because I loved to run.”

The two kept in close touch throughout his career and Brinker has now followed in Roberts’ footsteps, teaching elementary-school P.E. and coaching track and cross country at Holly High School in Holly, Michigan.

Roberts retired in 2001, but in 2010 one of the girls on the team asked for his help. He’s been coaching again on a volunteer basis ever since, overseeing the junior high and high school boys’ and girls’ cross-country teams. Because of his contributions over the years, the Sandusky school board recently approved a proposition to name the high school track after him.

All the while, he maintained his own running streak, gradually increasing his daily mileage. He kept track in spiral-bound paper logs, one for each year—books that fortunately, the family saved from a 1992 house fire that charred nearly everything else they owned.

As he aged, he found going twice a day—first thing in the morning, and again in the afternoon—easier on his body, and he could log about six to eight miles a day that way.

* * *

Not long after Wayne had gone out for his second run of the day that Monday in October, a neighbor began pounding on Sandra’s door. She’d seen Wayne lying in a ditch just down the street from home, blood all over his head. Sandra rushed to find him.

“When I grabbed his arm to see if there was a pulse, he looked up,” she said. He wanted to get up. She urged him to stay put.

The neighbor called 911. This far outside of town—“we live on a gravel road out in the middle of nowhere,” Wayne said—ambulances don’t always arrive quickly. This one took 40 minutes. Sandra tried to keep Wayne still, lying on top of him to keep him warm.

The couple and their doctors guess that Wayne was struck by a large truck or four-wheel-drive tractor, with either a trailer or a metal rod sticking out of the side. To this day there aren't any leads into who struck Wayne.

“We figure that whoever hit me, hit me in the back of the head and drove me into the ground,” Wayne said. “Big equipment like that, they probably didn’t even know they hit anything. Or, it could have been someone texting, not paying attention.”

His glasses, running pack, and both hearing aids were thrown far from his body. “He really did take a hit,” Sandra said. “It’s a miracle his brain was still intact.”

Doctors at the first hospital put nine staples in his head. Then, they airlifted him to nearby Saginaw, where he received 15 stitches and was placed in a medically induced coma.

He woke up a few days later, on Wednesday, confused and with a killer headache. On Thursday, a bit more lucid, he had a question for Sandra: Would he be out in time to coach his men’s team at the regional cross-country meet on Saturday?

“I just said, ‘Thank you, Lord,’ because that meant he knew who he was, he knew where he should be,” Sandra said.

* * *

Wayne didn’t make it to the meet, but his runners did well enough there to qualify for the state meet a few weeks later. Several of them stopped by the rehab facility on their way to compete. “That just did my heart wonders,” he said.

So did all the cards and texts that poured in from runners through the years. When his pounding head prevented him from concentrating on the words, Sandra would read them aloud.

With care from Sandra—a retired nurse—and the support of athletes he’s coached through the years, his body and mind began healing. “As I had time to reevaluate a little bit, I started thinking: ‘Wow, this is really something, that I lasted this long,’” he said.

One message came from Rich, now 41 and living in St. Charles, Illinois. Rich texted Sandra his well wishes, then spoke to Wayne when his former coach was up for a phone call.

“I told him, when you’re good enough to have a beer, let me know,” Rich said. By early December, it was time. “I went back and enjoyed that cold beer with him.”

Another was from Brinker, who spoke with Wayne on the phone the morning of the state meet. “When I heard about the accident, one of the first things I thought about was the streak,” he said. “I know coach. He’s strong, he’s tough, he’s stubborn, he’s going to recover. But the streak meant so much to him over the years.”

Wayne had worked back up to walking on the treadmill when he suffered another setback. A blood infection required him to be readmitted to the hospital for a few days in December.

Now, he has one more surgery scheduled to remove a kidney stone discovered during that stay. After that, he plans to slowly but steadily return to coaching—and running.

“My first goal was to run every day for 50 years and not miss a day and run over 100,000 miles,” he said. “Of course, that was taken away, but the goal of running for 100,000 miles is not.” He currently stands at 76,851.

And though he might never recall exactly what happened that October day, he looks forward to making new memories.

Cindy Kuzma Contributing Writer Cindy is a freelance health and fitness writer, author, and podcaster who’s contributed regularly to Runner’s World since 2013.

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