Oregon later greeted us with another snowstorm to go along with high winds and some mountain roads so steep that even this West Virginia native was in marvel. I felt a pit in my stomach as we crept down a 9 percent grade at 15 miles per hour for three miles as I meticulously navigated our 31-foot vehicle down the twists and turns of Doherty Slide, a section of road famous for its steepness, curves and lack of guard rails. You can read travel blogs of drivers retelling their fearful experiences navigating this road in their cars. It was so bad that my mom had to lie down in the back and close the blinds so she wouldn’t see the huge drop off the side of the mountain that was visible out the left side of the RV. Later that evening, we slowly crawled down a mountain into Lakeview, Oregon, as the snow provided limited visibility. We pulled into a gas station in Lakeview to spend the night, and the clerk working there offered us use of the heated bathroom so we could get cleaned up. He also informed the manager about our trip we’d be taking back through that same area in a few weeks, and they kindly offered to supply us with snacks and drinks on our way back through.
After successfully driving down these roads in a snowstorm, I was confident there wasn’t any situation Tiffany or I couldn’t handle while behind the wheel of the RV during the next 100+ days. I wasn’t as confident about my ability to run up these same mountains a week or so later!
I typically never pre-run a course when I’m doing a race because I enjoy the unexpected. I was glad, however, that I did get a glimpse of what I would have to be running up a few days later. It allowed me to plan ahead for what I knew would have to be some slower pacing on those climbs. “If it was easy, everyone would do it,” I told myself.
We arrived at Tiffany’s hometown on March 21, giving us a few days to spend with her family and time to get psyched up for the journey that awaited me beginning March 26. The local community in Myrtle Point put together an amazing spaghetti dinner the night before I took off, and raised quite a bit of money to support our amazing veterans. Tiffany’s mom, Kathy, had worked hard to get things prepared for the dinner and our sendoff, and her dad, Tiff, had scheduled numerous events for us those first few days, including the sendoff and interviews I gave the morning of the kickoff to the run.
I had done everything I possibly could have done to get ready to run almost 3,500 miles in 100 days. Now there was only one thing left to do—run!
Chapter 4: No Turning Back
When I awoke from a fairly light night’s sleep at 5 a.m. on the morning of March 26, the stars were still visible in the pre-dawn sky, and the view of space gave me a sense of the sheer vastness of our world. It was a comforting view, reminding me that while my run across America was a major undertaking, the 3,000+ miles I was about to run was just a short distance when viewed from a different perspective. The previous night while lying in bed and this morning as I began to move around, my thoughts, feelings and emotions were swirling around in my mind like liquid in a blender as I tried to comprehend the fact that I was about to begin the most difficult challenge of my life. Physically, I felt completely ready for the challenge. In all honesty, that part of the upcoming journey was the part I worried the least about. I had trained for almost two full years, getting myself ready to take almost six million steps through 16 states over the next three-plus months.
While looking out at the stars, I took in several deep breaths, filling my lungs with the cool, crisp air. The temperature was hovering around 35 degrees, which to me was ideal. During my short time as a runner, I learned to enjoy being out in the cold, feeling much more alert and in tune with my body with each step. I can always add more layers if necessary; in the heat, there is only so much you can take off. For instance, I learned through experience in West Virginia that I was much more successful and my body responded better when running ultramarathons in cooler weather rather than warmer weather. Whenever I was about to embark on a run in cold weather, I could be comforted by remembering the 15 degree temps and snow I ran through while trudging up the mountains at the Frozen Sasquatch, my first ultramarathon. Fortunately, on this first day of my run, I wouldn’t have to deal with snow. I was especially grateful for that fact since I had two eager runners joining me that had never experienced the distance or duration that we’d be running.
We pulled away from Tiffany’s mother’s ranch at 6:15 a.m. Doug Veysey, Tiffany’s high school business teacher and one of my running mates, was ready and waiting for us at his house in Myrtle Point. We pulled up to his house at 6:30, headlights shining right at his front door as he stepped out. I had given him fair warning the day before, just as I had shared with others who planned to run with me throughout my journey, that I was happy to have the company while running or happy to share a place to rest while we took our aid station stops along the way, but they would need to provide their own food and drink. We were doing everything we could to spend as little money as possible in order to maximize our donations at the end of the run. I was pleased to see Doug step into the illumination of our headlights with a cooler in one hand and a gallon jug in the other.
To say he was excited would be an understatement. He jumped into the RV, showing no signs of trepidation at what lay ahead. I was sitting in the RV trying to get into the proper frame of mind, but it was sobering to try to comprehend the magnitude of what I was about to set out to accomplish over the next 100 days with no scheduled days of rest. Seeing Doug bounce into the RV like a kid entering a candy store was exactly what I needed. His energy and encouragement erased any negative thoughts I may have had about the daunting task ahead. I would often feed off of the energy of others during some of the toughest days of this run.
We pulled away from Myrtle Point, which was to be the actual location of the finish of my run that day, and drove about 20 miles to the House of Confusion, an old filling station on the route. It was there that we picked up Kelly Lusha, an old friend and Marine who served with me. Kelly had parked his car here and this would be his stopping point for the day. He wanted to knock out 19 miles with me but still have enough energy to drive five hours back to Portland. We figured the 19 miles, which would be about half of the day’s mileage, would be a difficult but achievable challenge for him. We joked as we pulled into the parking lot that we all had to have been in a state of confusion at the House of Confusion in order to attempt what we were getting ready to do.
As Kelly stepped into the RV, Doug asked him, “Are you here to punish yourself, Kelly?”
“I’m here to support my buddy,” Kelly responded. “That’s not punishment.”
It was at this moment that I again settled into a place by myself. The energy in the RV was electric; everyone was excited about the launch of this journey. I found myself, however, becoming very distant at that moment. I felt like I was in a quiet, isolated place. This is when it finally hit me that I was about to do something very few others had ever attempted, and far fewer had ever accomplished. “Who am I to think I can do this?” I questioned. “What have I accomplished that makes me think I can do something so difficult?”
I had never questioned what I was about to do all the way up to this point. Yet there I was, 10 miles away from the start of this journey, and I wanted to be 3,000 miles away, tucked comfortably under my blanket in my warm bed back in Morgantown, West Virginia. I briefly imagined how my life would be different this morning had I never had the idea to run across the country or had I never run that first marathon back in 2009.
In that moment, I snapped out of it and pushed the negative thoughts aside. I didn’t want to let anyone sense the concern and fear that I was feeling. Instead of doubting myself, I gave myself a pep talk. “There is no turning back now. I need to embrace what I am about to do and move forward, one step at a time.”
I was grateful for all of the support I had with me in the RV at that moment. My wife, who had sacrificed so much to be there for me, was not certain what life was about to bring, but nonetheless she was excited about the journey. My children, getting ready to embark on a journey
of which the effect, I think, will take years for them to fully comprehend, were there to provide youthful joy and enthusiasm—part of which may have been due to the fact that they were missing the last two-plus months of school. My mom, who had been there for me through so many trying times from my childhood through adulthood, was in the co-pilot’s seat and was ready to jump in and assist wherever possible for the time she was on the journey with us. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the support of my family would be essential in these first two weeks, in particular. But those were also trying times for them because they would witness every hardship and wince of pain that I would endure as my body adjusted to the miles.
Kelly Lusha is a man I built a bond with going back to our days in the Marine Corps; we shared a kindred spirit about running outdoors and experiencing the many wonders of running various trails and routes as we entered our middle-aged years. Doug Veysey is teacher who had made a profound impact on my wife many years ago when she was in high school, and he had continued to inspire and challenge teenagers. Everyone in the RV, though, had their concerns for me, although I knew that they wouldn’t express those. My wife had made up her mind long before we took off, and we had even discussed this fact, that there would be things we wouldn’t share with one another on this trip, so as to not burden the other or cause me to worry about anything other than my mission. I’m sure I could have said we’re going home, and Tiff would have driven the RV right back to West Virginia without making me feel like a failure. She had every reason to worry about me, but she also knew that this was something that I was capable of accomplishing, so she kept her concerns to herself. I couldn’t think about those concerns right now, though. It was 7:30 a.m. and we were pulling into the parking lot at Sunset Bay State Park. The time had finally arrived!
As we stepped out of the motorhome, the sun began to make its appearance, slowly creeping above the horizon as though it was a groggy toddler not wanting to climb out of bed (a feeling I would share frequently during this journey). With the sunrays beginning to illuminate the rippling water of the Pacific Ocean, I began to get energized. The blue sky was fighting its way through the clouds, the air was crisp and fresh, and the energy of the spectators and well-wishers who had gathered at the starting area was electric.
Among those greeting us as we climbed out of the RV was my father-in-law, Tiff, and his wife, Jessie. They had been instrumental in getting the events that had already occurred, and were about to take place that upcoming week, set up for us. Tiff had arranged for the color guard from the Bandon VFW Post 3440 to be there that morning, giving us an appropriate sendoff. The vibrant reds and blues in the United States flag that rippled in the wind that the color guard displayed was a beautiful sight that morning.
Runners from the local Hash House Harrier club were there, as well as numerous other friends that had heard about the event or traveled there to be a part of it. Mariah Valencia, another Marine I served with, and her husband, Carlos, were also there. It meant a lot to me to have many of the friends I had acquired from my days in the Marine Corps there to support me. A local TV station (KCBY) was there to interview me and get footage of the beginning of my 100-day run.
I had planned for months to literally begin my run from the Pacific Ocean, so I had to sink my feet into the soft sand just beneath the surface of the water before I actually began running. I also wanted to begin this journey as a family, so all four of us removed our shoes and socks and walked out into the water. Considering it was 35 degrees and the wind was whipping off the water, it made for a frigid beginning to the kickoff event. But I wouldn’t have wanted to start any other way, especially since beginning in the water would take on added significance, which at that time I wasn’t aware of, by the conclusion of this endeavor.
After drying my feet off really well and applying a heavy layer of Gold Bond lotion before putting my socks and shoes back on, it was 8 a.m. and time for the kickoff to this run. I wrapped up my interview with KCBY and then Doug, Kelly and I took off. After nearly two full years of preparing myself mentally and physically for what at times seemed like an unthinkable challenge, I was finally taking the first steps of this run across the US! I tried not to get too caught up in thinking about the magnitude of what I was setting out to accomplish. One of the things I had told myself prior to the start of this run was to focus on one day at a time, placing one foot in front of the other, and maintaining positive forward motion.
We ran through a crowd of about 50 people who had gathered to see us off. Included in the group was a family who would write to me later, letting me know that they were walking by that morning and saw what we were doing and just wanted to encourage me as we took off. We passed by the color guard, which was stationed at the exit of the parking lot of Sunset Bay State Park, and as I always do, I saluted the American flag as I ran by it. We then headed out due north along the coastline of Coos Bay.
As we ran those first couple of miles, navigating our way into Coos Bay, Doug, Kelly and I kept our conversation to a minimum so that we could enjoy the beautiful views of the Oregon coastline. We were also constantly waving to people as they drove by, blowing their horns and giving us the thumbs up for encouragement. Of course my adrenaline was flowing, causing me to push the pace at times, so more than once Kelly had to remind me to slow down since I had to tackle nearly 40 miles that day.
The First of 500
When Tiffany and I discussed how we would handle each day of this journey as we were planning this trip, we decided that we would treat this run just like an ultramarathon. For safety’s sake, I would run ahead for an hour to an hour and 15 minutes, and then Tiffany would bring the RV up to me to refill my fluids and provide food for me. That would give me the ability to move at my own pace, allowing my family to catch up and provide assistance as necessary. This also gave us the security that with them coming up from behind, in case something happened to me, they would come up on the issue, instead of sitting around waiting for me to arrive at a meeting point.
We knew that due to the numerous weather and terrain conditions we would encounter, my mileage would vary greatly with each stop, but we had learned so much from the ultramarathon running community over the past couple of years about nutrition and hydration patterns that it seemed like a solid plan. Knowing that I would have food and beverage constantly in my system to keep me nourished and hydrated as I ran, and knowing that my aid station workers (family) would be there every hour or so to care for me gave me a calm reassurance.
Five miles into our run the RV passed us and Tiffany parked it up ahead in the nearest spot she could find once she went by. She had already prepared my food and drinks for the stop while she was waiting to take off to catch up to us, so when we got to the RV, I only needed to take off my Fuel-Belt, hit the restroom, then come back out with my bottles filled with Gatorade and sandwiches ready to eat. One of the tricks I read about was to cut the crust off of the bread of my sandwiches because that would prevent some of the strain on my jaw from the constant chewing motions required when eating so much food each day. Even though the crust was usually soft on the bread, Tiff or the kids always cut them off for me. I downed a few peanut butter sandwich squares, washed it down with some orange Gatorade, and off we went on our second leg of this first day. After my first “aid station” stop of what would end up being more than 500 during the entire journey, I could tell this was going to be a plan that really worked well.
Each subsequent aid stop that I made, I was amazed to see how organized, even on this first day of the run, that my wife was. It put a smile on my face to see her taking such good care of me by having food and drinks ready and prepared for me, ensuring the kids were working on their homework and writing in their journals, and managing the RV and all of the other logistics of the trip. I knew she was a great manager and organizer, able to handle many things on her own. But I also knew this trip was going to place a lot of demands and stress on Tiffany, but she handled it like a champ.
Du
ring my brief periods in the RV to refuel, I was also encouraged and entertained watching our kids stay in communication with their classmates back in West Virginia. They would use our phones or iPad to give the kids in their classes details about the day. It was funny hearing Shayna relay stories about how her classmates thought it would take me 15 hours to run the 39 miles that day. It would have made for a very long trip if that was the case, but it was great seeing the kids take such in an interest in the run and also turning it into an educational experience.
Running Toward Retirement
As we ran through Coos Bay, it was encouraging to witness a number of the locals out to cheer us on, waving flags or holding up signs they had made to encourage me. I took every opportunity to wave and shake the hands of all of the supporters as we ran by. Throughout my run across America, I made sure I told each supporter not only “thank you” for being out there to encourage me, but I also asked them to take the opportunity to tell a veteran “thank you” as well and let them know they are appreciated.
With Kelly and Doug by my side, we knocked out the first 12.5 miles in a little more than two hours. We were holding steady at around a 10-minute pace, which was about right where I knew I had to be running. Not only was this an ideal pace for me considering the mileage I would be logging, but Kelly had a long run coming up the following weekend, and I didn’t want him to push it too hard since he was just getting into distance running. Doug had a marathon coming up soon, so it was also important for him to ensure that he didn’t get too fatigued or, worse yet, injured. I was honored that both Doug and Kelly agreed to join me because I knew that asking them to run even a portion of the 39.2 miles that day with me was asking them to make a major commitment and sacrifice.
Freedom Run Page 7
