The last 10 miles of the run that day were literally a blur. The heat made it difficult for me to eat, and the thought of the kids being gone had been weighing on my mind all day. I was so used to them greeting me at the RV when I ran up and saying, “Hi daddy, how are you feeling?” We also developed our own way of saying goodbye when I would leave for the next leg of my run. Before I would step out of the RV, we would always fist bump on the way out the door, and now I had a missing component to my routine.
With all of the stress and heat taking its toll, I simply wasn’t refueling like I needed. Thirty miles into the run, Tiff informed me that I had only consumed one gallon of Gatorade the entire day, which was a full gallon behind my normal intake for that distance on a day with normal temperature. I also realized at that point that I did not even remember Tiff driving past me prior to that aid stop. Every time she passed me in the RV, she would ring a cowbell and I would give her a wave. While driving through Oregon we discovered the need for the cowbell because there were so many passers-by that honked. The cowbell set Tiff apart so that I didn’t have to turn my head at every random and well-meaning horn-blower. She told me I did wave, but I couldn’t recall it. Blocks of time were empty for me that day and we were both concerned for my well-being. I forced myself to drink cup after cup of Gatorade before I took off for the last leg that day, trying to get my electrolytes back up where they needed to be. By the end of the run, I was completely exhausted, physically and mentally. Day 79 could not have ended soon enough.
The timing of staying at Heather’s house that night could not have been better. A nice, cool house, a wonderfully home-cooked meal of pasta and bread and Tiffany being able to do some laundry were big blessings. I slept better that night than I had in a long time, while Tiff took the time to chat with Heather through the evening.
The following morning I awoke feeling completely refreshed. I ended up adding three miles to the original route for a total of 38 miles that day, but felt like I could have run even farther. I also achieved another milestone, as I surpassed 2,750 miles in the run. In 2011, with all of the races and long training runs I had done, my total mileage for the year was 2,750 miles. It was amazing to think that 80 days into my run I had surpassed my total mileage from 365 days the previous year.
Who Let the Dogs Out?
One of my concerns on the trip was what kind of wild animals I would encounter. Of course, my biggest fear was of snakes, but for runners, dogs are often the most dangerous animals to encounter. Many runners even carry protective devices such as mace specifically to keep aggressive dogs away. I was very fortunate to not have any incidents with dogs—until Day 81.
The morning air was a refreshing 50 degrees when I headed out for the run, and the predicted high for the day was only 81. The route for the day had me running mostly on back roads, including one that took me over a mountain that had nearly 2,000 feet of elevation change in the short eight-mile section. There was a route that went around the mountain that would have added about 90 minutes to the run but saved my legs from some heavy climbing, and for a brief moment I considered that option since I just traversed the flat plains of the Midwest and had gotten out of the routine of conquering climbs. But since I hate to add unnecessary mileage, I took off for the narrow, single-lane road over the mountain.
As I ran past one of the first homes I passed heading down that road, I noticed a young man in cutoff blue jean shorts mowing his yard. I always made it a point to wave to people and say hello when I ran by, because I never knew what good could come from the encounter, but I didn’t wave to this man because he had his back to me when I ran past.
As I ran a little farther down the road, I heard the rumble of the lawnmower engine shut off, but that didn’t strike me as being odd. About a minute later, I heard a car coming up from behind, and since it was a single-lane road I moved over to the far left-hand side. But as the car approached me, it slowed down and I felt like it was driving right on my heels.
I looked back and saw that it was the young man I had passed earlier mowing his yard who was creeping up behind me in a 1980s white Dodge Aries K with more rust than paint near the bumpers. Strangely, he wasn’t driving fast enough to pass me. He crept up slowly until he was right beside me and he stared at me from behind the steering wheel with a glazed look in his eyes. I quickly looked to make sure both of his hands were on the wheel and that no weapons were visible, because I wasn’t sure what to expect. He continued to drive alongside me for about 50 feet or so. He didn’t say a word, but the entire time I felt him peering out the window at me. I decided to pick up my pace, and he matched it. I was getting nervous because my cell phone was out of range for service and the only thing I had to defend myself with was the bottles of Gatorade in my FuelBelt. I certainly didn’t think dousing him with orange Gatorade would fend him off for very long.
Fortunately, a large truck then drove up from behind, so he sped off. A couple of minutes later, however, he was now driving back towards me. Thankfully, a couple of cars were behind him, so he drove on by without slowing down. For the next five minutes, every car that came up behind me caused my heart to beat a little faster. Tiffany finally drove by in the RV, which eased my nerves a little, but I was also now concerned about her being in the RV by herself. When I made my aid stop, I explained what happened and we decided to have her pull over every mile until we made it back to the main road. Fortunately, we didn’t encounter the man again.
Before I made my way back onto the main road, however, I ran around what looked to be an abandoned home, with overgrown brush and trees surrounding the area. I heard a couple of dogs barking from somewhere to my left in the overgrown brush, but could not see where they were. I ran by a very small camper trailer just past the rundown home when all of a sudden the dogs came running out from behind the trailer.
I was already on edge after the lawnmower man was seemingly stalking me in his car, so seeing these dogs charging toward me heightened my nervousness. Quickly I formulated a plan to kick the smallest dog in the group, if necessary, in hopes that would scare off the larger one.
“Get back!” I growled as the dogs got closer. But they didn’t obey my command. All of a sudden a voice resonated from the small camper in one of the most Southern drawl accents I have ever heard.
“Kick the piss outta both of ‘em!” yelled the voice.
The dogs reacted to his voice just as I was preparing to kick my leg, and they turned and ran back towards their home behind the camper. The situation was frightening initially but turned out to be humorous. I think I laughed all the way to the end of the road where Tiffany was parked.
“What’s so funny?” she asked me when I stepped inside the RV.
“Do I have a story for you,” I said.
“Is it a salacious story of someone naked?” she asked in jest.
I laughed and then relayed the story of the invisible Southern savior from the camper.
“A good naked story would have been icing on the cake,” I said, “but I had enough of naked guys out in Oregon, thank you very much!”
With a rather intriguing day wrapped up, we camped at Carter Caves State Park, where my cousin Darren had made arrangements and the owners gave us a complimentary spot. Tiff and I talked to the kids on the phone for a while that night, then both of us headed for bed a bit earlier than usual. Without the support of the kids, Tiff was now taking care of everything for the trip, and although she had the routine nailed, I knew she needed just as much rest as I did.
“Now, how about another good naked story?” I said with a sly grin as I lay down beside her.
All I heard was snoring.
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Posing with members of the American Legion, who gave me a motorcycle escort out of Charleston • It was emotional to be back home in Braxton County, West Virginia • Shaking the strong hand of World War II veteran Thurman Ratliff
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Meeting the Braxton Belles, a group
that included some Rosie Riveters • With the National Guard Color Guard in Burnsville, West Virginia • Speaking to the crowd at the Wounded Warrior 5K in Burnsville
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Getting an escort through Fairmont, West Virginia, flanked by Aaron and Sandy Yocum to my right and Mayor Bill Burdick to my left • Receiving a Marine Corps League donation from Gunnery Sgt. Thomas Hellyer in Morgantown, West Virginia • Enjoying the view at Coopers Rock State Forest with The Daily crew
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Climbing up Sideling Hill, Maryland • Dodging downed tree limbs on the C&O Canal Trail after the derecho
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Running with the Two Rivers Treads crew, Harpers Ferry, West Virginia • Proud to stand in front of the Marine Corps War Memorial in Arlington, Virginia • An emotional surprise visit from Bart Ingleston and his son Liam
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Tiffany and I at the Navy-Marine Corps Memorial Stadium in Annapolis, Maryland • Standing with Navy personnel that welcomed me at the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis • Nick and I sharing a high five after jumping into the Chesapeake Bay • I couldn’t have arrived at the finish without the help of my family
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An interview with Fox News Channel on July 4 • I watched the corn grow from buds to all the way over my head as I ran across America • 50 miles down, 50 more to go • Exhausted but in my 16th and final state
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Taking a break on my 100-mile run to eat some of my favorite food to refuel—watermelon • Racing to the finish in just less than 24 hours • The tired feet and legs that brought me to the finish • Celebrating the finish in the Atlantic Ocean in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware
Chapter 13: Take Me Home
One of the most surreal moments of my entire journey was when I crossed the state line into West Virginia. It was difficult to fathom that just 90 days earlier we had driven out of the state, heading toward Oregon and unsure of what this trip had in store for us. Now, 83 days into my run, I was returning to my home state on foot with more memories in tow than miles logged.
Running into West Virginia was something that I had anticipated for a long time, largely because I was eager to be reunited with friends and family. I remember returning home after being stationed overseas while I was in the military. The homecoming was sweet.
At the same time, I felt a little guilty. I had only been gone for three months, and my immediate family had been by my side most of the way. I recalled many conversations I had with family members of current military members during my run, and many of them shared stories of their loved ones serving multiple tours overseas, sometimes lasting as long as 16 months at a time. The stories broke my heart. I could hear the pain in their voices as they talked about how much they missed their loved ones, but that pain was also balanced with the pride they had in their spouse, child or parent that was serving.
The support of family and friends means so much to active members of the military when they are away, and the US military wouldn’t be as successful as it is without that support system in place. Families, friends and communities play such a pivotal role in helping military members feel supported and get through some tough times, whether they are stationed at home in the US or abroad.
After I ran across the bridge into Kenova, West Virginia, I posed for photos next to a “Welcome to West Virginia” sign and belted out the chorus to “Country Roads” by the late John Denver. Just then a woman pulled up behind the RV and walked up to greet us. She introduced herself as Monica and explained that she had heard my interview on the radio the day before and had hoped to time her drive to work that morning so that she could meet up with us. Monica told us about fitness challenges she was organizing locally and that she was planning to use my run across America as motivation for those in her exercise group to see that anything is possible. It made me feel great to know that what started out as a singularly focused run to assist wounded veterans was having a wider impact than we ever imagined.
Stumbling into Huntington
I was constantly thankful that throughout this journey across America we had been relatively free from mishaps. Except for the shin injury in Oregon and much later a slight pain in the IT band of my right knee, I had been injury free—I never even developed a blister on my feet. Except for a few mechanical problems with the RV, which were quickly fixed courtesy of several generous individuals, the motorhome had performed very well. When a road I was running on came to an abrupt end, we were always able to find another way to get back on course. These minor issues, including when some of our laundry was stolen, were really only hiccups on the trip.
As I made my way into Huntington, even though I had been in that city several times prior, I wasn’t very familiar with the roads. I had to pay close attention to the maps on my phone and remain in constant communication with Tiffany to make sure she was taking the same route. One of the things Tiffany always reminded me when I was heading out the door of the RV was to not look at my phone while I was running. Since my arrival in West Virginia, however, I was constantly receiving texts, tweets and Facebook posts from family and friends. As a result, I found my eyes drifting toward my phone more often. I’d usually glance around to make sure Tiff wasn’t nearby, then text away. It was amazing I hadn’t been hit by any of the drivers that I encountered on the road who had their faces buried in their phones while behind the wheel. I’d just shake my head whenever I saw someone texting while driving. Then my phone would buzz and I’d do the same thing.
Heading through a residential section of Huntington, I knew a turn was approaching soon, so I pulled my phone out to check the map while jogging along the sidewalk. All of a sudden, I found myself heading face first towards the pavement. I had caught my right toe on a section of the sidewalk that was in desperate need of repair. Acting on my instincts, I put my hands out to brace my fall, forgetting that my smartphone was cradled in my right hand. The next sound I heard was the cracking of the display on my phone, followed by the thud as I landed flat on my stomach, briefly knocking the wind of out me.
I immediately turned my phone over and saw where the shiny display was now a spiderweb of splintered glass. It was still functional, but I had to press down really hard on some of the keyboard letters to get them to work. I called Tiff, very upset with myself and the situation, and asked her to come meet me as soon as possible. When she arrived she could tell I was very upset, so she did her best to get me to shrug it off and keep pressing forward.
“It could have been worse,” she said. “It’s just a phone. It could have been your ribs that cracked.”
I was still upset that I allowed myself lose the focus that had been so sharp the past three months. I was also mad that I had cracked a fairly expensive phone. There was nothing I could do about it at that point, however. I was thankful that at least it still worked so that I would continue to have communication capabilities with Tiffany.
As I stepped out of the RV to run again, Tiffany gave me a kiss and said, “Don’t let it get you down. Just keep moving forward.”
After running about 20 miles through Huntington, Tiffany picked me up so that we could drive back to Pullman Plaza, which was hosting the West Virginia State VFW conference. There was a haircut fundraiser for wounded veterans that I was invited to attend. My cousin Darren, along with his wife, Lisa, and daughter, Sophie, met us at the plaza. He and I had talked a lot while I was out on the road, especially when I was dealing with a rough stretch. It was great catching up with them, and I was so happy to see family again.
We were introduced to a number of the conference attendees at the fundraiser and were presented with a $200 check from the event. We thanked everyone and then headed back to the point where Tiff had picked me up so that I could run the final 11 miles of the day. The day seemed to last forever because of my fall and the interruption in my run. It had been a long time since we had to backtrack during
my run to attend an event. But I wrapped up the last of the miles and we arrived at FoxFire KOA campgrounds, which donated a camping spot to us. What began as a bad day ended up being pretty good after all.
A Capitol Climb
The Tallman Track Club in Charleston had been tracking my run for a while and the members contacted me a few days prior to my arrival in West Virginia to make arrangements for several runners to run with me into Charleston, the state capital. I was really looking forward to the following day not only because I would be joined by the Tallman Track Club, but also because it was Father’s Day and I would be reunited with Nick and Shayna. A number of events were scheduled for the afternoon, so I needed to get an early start.
We drove to the starting point for the day, arriving around 5:20 a.m. and immersed in quiet darkness. I hoped I had given the track club proper directions to our meeting point but at 5:35 and with nobody in sight, I decided to head out. Tiffany drove on ahead and a few minutes later she texted me to tell me that several runners were at an intersection up ahead waiting on me. I was excited to have runners join me, so I picked the pace up to meet up with everyone. As I approached the RV I could make out the shadows of five or six runners standing there talking to Tiffany.
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