“Can you keep the kids at the arcade for a little while?” Tiffany asked her mom.
“Is everything OK?” Kathy asked.
“Everything is fine. Jamie and I just need some time alone, back at the RV.”
“Oh,” Kathy said with a laugh.
The next morning the sun was beginning to break through the clouds and the wind was gusting. I was invigorated not only from the previous night’s intimate activities, but also by the fact that early into the run I would be crossing into my third state. The initial leg of the run that day was about nine miles of straight, flat road and I knocked it out at a pretty quick pace. The climb up the hill just prior to entering Wendover was very windy, and slowed me down some, but I had learned when running in similar conditions earlier in the trip to take short, meaningful steps. Just as in boot camp, short choppy steps were necessary a lot of times just to keep positive forward motion. I crested the top of the hill, which offered an incredible view of Wendover and the salt flats just beyond the town down into Utah.
After taking some photographs at the summit, I headed down the mountain, spending the last couple of miles in Nevada running along the interstate. Based on conversations my wife had with the Department of Transportation, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to legally run along the interstate in Utah. I coasted into the RV park where we had stayed the previous night and there was a painted line down the middle of the road marking the Nevada-Utah state line. Once the rest of the family arrived, we took turns straddling the line so that we’d be standing in two different states simultaneously. The previous night when we came through here, we joked that on the Nevada side of the line were casinos and right across the line on the Utah side were chapels where you could marry multiple partners.
The kids also got a picture with Monti Bear, a stuffed animal bear that somewhat resembled the Mountaineer mascot from West Virginia University. The kids brought the bear along to photograph him in each state. They walked on each side of the line, holding onto Monti’s hands, as he hung in the air right above the state line. Nick was happy that he was on the side of the line where he could marry multiple wives.
Salt Drifts
Having driven much of my running route on our way from West Virginia to Oregon for the start of the run, there were a few stretches that really stuck out in my mind. Among them were the long climb in Oregon out of Lakeview into the mountains, going up and over Blizzard Gap and of course driving down and then running back up Doherty Slide. Another memorable stretch awaited me this day. It would be the longest stretch of straight, flat road that I would encounter during the entire trip—38 miles of road that was straight as an arrow and surrounded on both sides by white salt flats.
In Nevada I ran 13- and 22-mile stretches of straight road coming into Denio Junction, but that was nothing like the isolated and seemingly endless stretch of frontage road that lied ahead. On the way out to Oregon we drove on Interstate 80, which runs parallel to the road I would be running this day, and we drove about 30 minutes without having to touch the steering wheel because the road was so straight. When we were standing on top of the overlook coming down into Wendover, I could see this stretch of freeway looming ahead, and remembered that long drive across the flats on the way out.
I have learned to embrace the ups and downs of trail running, understanding that my entire body gets a workout on those types of runs. Long, flat runs are not the most enticing to me because you continually work the same muscles over and over again, and the repetition of the movements and the monotony of running along the same stretch of road for miles and miles is not something that I enjoy. To make my way across America, however, I knew I would encounter some long, flat stretches of road. Another thing that concerned me this day was that as I was preparing to start my run on the salt flats, we could see some ominous storm clouds nearby and I knew that out on this stretch of road there would be nowhere for me to seek cover if the weather got too nasty.
Prior to heading out on this seldom-traveled frontage road, Tiffany and I debated about what we should do when I wrapped up the run for the day. I would finish right in the middle of the stretch, so we were faced with the decision to either back track to Wendover for the night, or drive approximately 17 miles ahead to another town. We decided to settle that debate when the time came; I just needed to move forward.
With the RV parked alongside the road behind me, and the temperature starting to climb, I made my way out onto the frontage road. It wasn’t too long before I saw the first of many signs on this stretch that read, “Road not maintained, travel at own risk.” The farther I ran, the more I understood why the signs were installed, because the condition of the road continued to get worse. There were tons of potholes and buckles in the pavement. In addition, the salt and sand from the salt flats was blown up onto the road, with drifts of sand piling up in sections. It looked more like I was running along a beach of white sand, although there was no blue ocean water for me to jump into to cool off.
To make matters worse, there were pieces of old fencing that were scattered across the sandy road. Knowing that the RV would be driving up from behind, I spent a lot of time picking up pieces of fencing and fencing staples that had blown onto the road and tossing them off to the side. I knew Tiffany would have enough of a challenge navigating the RV around the potholes and through the salt drifts, so I didn’t want her to be concerned about dodging fencing staples and risk blowing out a tire out in the middle of nowhere.
As Tiff and the crew got closer, I looked back and noticed that the RV looked like it was on an obstacle course. Tiff was weaving the rig back and forth on the road, avoiding potholes and driving over huge chunks of salt that caused her more than once to think the RV was not going to make it through. I called her at one point to warn her to watch out for a shrub that was growing up in the middle of the road. Tiffany later compared driving on that “non-maintained” road on the salt flats to being out on a sand rail in the sand dunes in Oregon. We laughed when she told me that at one point she thought she would have to get out and put the snow chains back on the RV just to make it through the drifts.
I continued to monitor the weather and the huge black clouds that were nearby. It certainly looked like the storm that was brewing was making its way toward us. Fortunately there was a strong wind from the north that ended up blowing the storm clouds south of us. Once the storm clouds blew out, the temperature really started to spike and there were no trees or buildings to provide any shade relief for me. Tiffany had been spraying sunscreen on me for a few days now, as I encountered more and more sunny days. I remember her that day spraying my legs down well, but I didn’t pay too much attention to the fact that she missed a few sections on the back of my legs. I would pay for that the next day.
I took things relatively slow that day, making a few stops to ensure that I was getting enough fluid and food but also to just enjoy the uniqueness of the scenery and take some photographs. Nicholas again joined me to run about three miles after our first stop on the salt flats. It was a nice break for me, taking the time to talk about the sights we were seeing and answering his questions about the salt flats and how they came to be. Shayna remarked that Nick and I looked cute out there running with our desert hats on, with the flaps that covered our necks blowing in the air as we ran along.
As I was getting to the end of my mileage for the day, both of the kids got out and ran the last 1.5 miles with me. Shayna wasn’t happy at all with the fact that the closer we got to the RV, the faster Tiffany would drive to stay ahead of us. It reminded me of a prank friends play when one person gets close to opening the car door to get in, and the driver drives ahead a few feet, repeating that several times before allowing the passenger to finally open the door and hop in. The sun was beating down on us, and by the end of the run I was getting a look from Shayna that could cut right through me, but she held back the tears and pushed on. I was so proud of her for getting out there and joining us. Stepping out to run on the salt flats with them
was an experience I will never forget.
Tiffany pulled the RV over to an open spot on the side of the road, and we discussed the fact that we were now out in the middle of the frontage road. It was about 18 miles to go back the way we came, or another 20 to go to reach the end of the road and meet up with another main roadway. Considering the treacherous condition of the road, Tiffany didn’t want to drive the RV on it any more than we had to. With some initial hesitation from me, we decided it would be best to stay put. All of the maps and information about the salt flats that we had with us mentioned there was no camping allowed on the salt flats. Tiff assured me we would be fine out there and that no one could get to us anyway, so we leveled the RV up and set up camp. Interstate 80 looked to be about a mile away from us, but there were no roads from I-80 to our road, so we had plenty of separation between us and any major traffic.
The closest thing to us was a railway that ran parallel with the road, which we had almost became numb to by now. It seemed like a lot of the railways that traversed this great country ran parallel with my running route, which gave me a chance to wave at the passing trains. One drawback, however, was that the passing trains also often kept us awake at night, especially during the early legs of the trip. I eventually learned to sleep pretty well through the sounds of the trains, but the rest of the crew wasn’t so lucky. It became a running joke with us concerning our overnight sleeping location and the proximity of the nearest train tracks.
After a shower and a quick interview with Tony Caridi of Sportsline, a sports radio talk show in West Virginia, I headed outside to figure out why everyone was laughing. When I saw Shayna I figured out why—she had buried her feet and legs in “mud,” which was a mixture of salt/sand and standing water. The recipe not only created a squishy substance, but also an odor so repugnant that it immediately gave me a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. But watching Shayna giggle at the tickling sensation of the grayish-brown mud oozing between her pale toes had everyone else cracking up. Any concerns about a residual odor that may cling to her feet was worth the tradeoff to see the pure, innocent joy on her face as she waddled around in the mud. Plus, I knew I couldn’t complain about the smell since, for the past four weeks, my family had put up with my stench that was built up over eight-plus hours of sweating every day.
The remainder of the evening was spent sitting in the four red folding chairs set up around a white card table outside the RV, just enjoying the stories we all shared about our individual experiences on the journey thus far. It was great to hear how our children opened up about the thoughts and emotions they had about what we had been through this first month on the road. I was physically exhausted from the run earlier that day, but that time spent around the card table really rejuvenated me physically and emotionally.
We watched as the sky that was draped over our heads like an awning turned from sunset orange to purple to a deep black with sprinkles of brightly lit stars that looked more like white paint splatters on a black canvas. We were in total isolation out on the salt flats, and as the chatter and laughter died down, we soaked up the stillness and quietness of the night. It was amazing how quiet it was out there, even with the freeway within sight off in the distance.
Until, of course, the first train passed through that night.
Freezing in 90 degrees
It was not until I woke up the next morning that I realized Tiffany had missed a few spots on the back of my legs as she was applying the sun screen. As I stepped out of bed, it felt like the skin on my calves was tighter than a bed sheet on a bunk at boot camp. From the top of the back of my knee to just below my calf on each leg, it was blood red, minus a few spots where sunscreen had actually made contact.
One of my morning rituals since I suffered my injury included spraying Biofreeze on my left shin prior to taking off on my run, just to make sure I experienced no recurring pain. This morning, I also sprayed some on the backs of my legs to try to alleviate the pain of the sunburn. That sent shockwaves through my body as the coldness of the Biofreeze met the hotness of the splotchy, red skin. After a few seconds, however, it felt much better. And Tiffany also made sure I had plenty of sunscreen applied all over since the forecast called for temps above 90 degrees.
The first 17 miles of the run were spent on the frontage road, enjoying a few short stops as the kids got out to play in the flats and sandstone that was alongside the road. We encountered an area called Knolls that was inhabited not only by lizards and other wild animals, but also adventure seekers out on sand rails and four wheelers. It certainly would have been nice to hop on one of the machines to help get me through the day, but nobody offered me a ride, so I ran on.
Halfway through the run, the frontage road switched over to the north side of I-80, and we stopped to take some video of me describing my run so far. We tried to make a point of recording my thoughts as I left each state and entered a new one. Since the heat continued to climb, the words I shared were brief, but it was nice to recount all that we had seen through the Pacific time zone, and how excited I was to be moving on to the next leg of the journey.
During the second half of my run, Tiffany spent most of the time searching for a place for us to dock the RV that night. Since we had camped out in the middle of the salt flats the previous night, we were eating away at our utilities and water. She wasn’t able to find a place with an RV hookup within a 60-mile radius, so she settled on a rest area where we would camp. Since we wanted to conserve water, Tiffany and her mother also ended up using the rest area restrooms to wash our dirty dishes and clothes later that night.
As I was running up a fairly steep hill along a gravel road that ran behind the rest area at the end of my run that day, I heard a vehicle’s tires rumbling across the bed of gray rocks from behind. I turned to see a truck approaching, and was glad to see the driver had slowed down and moved over into the opposite lane in an attempt to keep the dust from kicking up as he passed me. The truck slowed up even more as it got alongside me, and then I heard two of the best words that can be uttered to a Marine.
“Semper Fi!” yelled the driver, as he gave me a thumb’s up. “You’re doing a great thing!”
Semper Fidelis is the motto of the Marine Corps and it means “always faithful.” The shortened “Semper Fi” is a greeting used by all Marines when we encounter one another. As the truck drove on ahead, I noticed Marine Corps bumper stickers on the back of the truck. He had obviously seen the RV along the side of the road with the wrap promoting the Run for Wounded Warriors. It was great to receive that appreciation for what I was doing for our fellow brothers and sisters. Moments like that occurred frequently when I ran through heavier populated areas, but after being around very few people those past few days, it was certainly a very encouraging moment for me.
Dusty Roads
I began the morning running along the gravel road, eventually encountering a farm that had about 1,000 roaming sheep. As I made my way farther down the road, I saw a gate up ahead that blocked the entrance to a dirt road that looked to be sparsely traveled. I called Tiffany and told her to drive up and meet me so that we could discuss a plan. There was no way the RV would make it on that “road,” and we didn’t want to drive it onto gated property anyway. We decided it would be best for Tiffany to backtrack to the interstate entrance, drive on ahead a few miles to the next exit, and wait for me there. I would continue on along the dirt road and meet them. My only concern was not knowing what type of animals I might encounter. More specifically, I hoped I wouldn’t see any snakes!
I was only on the dirt road for a few miles, and thankfully the only animals I saw were a number of cattle, some of whom decided to jog alongside me for a bit. After meeting the crew at the interstate exit, we were presented with our second navigational challenge of the day. I again had to cross over the interstate to follow the frontage road, but the road went backward almost a mile and a half before it turned and headed east again. There were some motorcyclists and four wheel riders on the
road, but we could tell the road was not traveled much at all. Tiff drove on over to ask the guys if they thought she could navigate the RV on the road, and they said it was passable but to be very cautious. They told her it actually used to be the main road that went through the area, but it was replaced by I-80 and was not maintained at all anymore. A couple of miles into the run on that road, I called her to let her know navigating the RV on the road became tricky ahead, but she would be able to make it through.
The temperature continued to rise, as did the clouds of dust as my running shoes stirred up the dirt with each step. I felt certain that I resembled Pig-Pen, the character from the cartoon Peanuts, who was always followed by a cloud of dirt. When the gang caught up to me in the RV for an aid stop, it looked as if a dump truck had unloaded its haul of dirt all over the motorhome. And when I stepped inside, it looked as if a dust bomb had exploded inside the RV. Dirt found its way into every nook and cranny of the RV, even up underneath the bed in the back. Being the RV newbies that we were, we had left the bathroom exhaust fan on to circulate the air. It also sucked dirt in from every possible entry. It was a messy lesson to learn!
When we arrived in Delle, we asked some people inside the gas station for advice on the path that we needed to take. They informed us that the frontage road stopped again just past the exit. I told Tiff to drive on ahead on the interstate and I would make my own path to the next stop. As I crossed to the north side of I-80 again, the road turned into nothing but a very desolate area of flats to run for the next few miles. Early on in that stretch I came upon a young man in a truck with a motorcycle in the back.
Freedom Run Page 12
