Freedom Run

by Jamie Summerlin

  The next 30 miles were some of the most enjoyable and easiest miles I ran during the entire trip. Everyone had questions for me, and I had all kinds of answers. “Can you tell us the story of the naked guy in Oregon?” one runner asked. I shared stories that made them laugh, stories that got me choked up and statistics about the run that just blew everyone away. I loved hearing about how several of the runners had been tracking my progress and used what I was doing as motivation to push them to run greater distances.

  About eight miles into the run, we met up with a second wave of runners that joined me. The sun had finally burnt off the morning fog and it was starting to warm up quite a bit. We were preparing for a couple of heavy climbs up and over a mountain as we headed out of Teays Valley.

  “Have him tell you the naked guy story,” one of the first wave runners said to the second group. “Make sure he’s running uphill when he tells it. He doesn’t stop talking or run out of breath!”

  My conditioning was the best it had ever been by this point. I could talk and run all day long, which was a dramatic shift from the beginning days of training for this journey, when I preferred to run alone because I didn’t feel like I was capable of carrying on a conversation while running. As we climbed the mountain, I told the story again, laughing the whole way. I also didn’t realize just how quickly we were moving. Some of the slower runners in the group didn’t want to slow me down, so they encouraged us to keep going at my pace and said they’d catch up with us when we made my next aid station stop. A couple of us plowed up to the peak of the mountain on County Route 46, then headed back down the other side where the RV was waiting. We waited for the rest of the second group to get to the RV and shortly into the next leg of the run we picked up the third wave of runners that would accompany me to the West Virginia State Capitol building.

  Prior to departing with the third wave, members of the track club invited me to return to the area in September and speak at the runner’s clinic for the 40th Annual Charleston Distance Run, which is a 15-mile race. I was honored to accept the invitation because it is one of the state’s most prestigious distance races.

  The final leg of the run flew by, as we made our way across the Kanawha River and headed into downtown Charleston toward the capitol. A reporter from a local TV station was there to capture video of our group running into town. One of the runners who joined us, Joni Adams, told me how she had used my run in her classroom over the past few months, taking the opportunity to teach her students not only about the geography and science behind the run, but other aspects of it as well.

  “You’re doing something incredible for other people, and that is something I want my students to emulate,” she said. I loved hearing stories about how people used the run to benefit others in ways other than my initial intention. Stories like Joni’s proved that we were making a difference much greater than I ever imagined.

  As we approached the capitol I could see the golden dome of the building glistening in the sun, which was beginning to fade behind some dark clouds. When the sun illuminates the gold-leaf rotunda dome of the State Capitol, it’s a beautiful sight, making it quite possibly one of the most magnificent state capitol buildings in the nation. A number of people were out to greet us as we approached the steps of the capitol, including Jim Sweezy of West Virginia Radio Corporation. Jim had coordinated regular radio interviews with WCHS as I made my way across America, and he also helped arrange many of the upcoming events of the weekend.

  We ran up the steps of the capitol, humming the tune from Rocky when he climbed the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. We stood at the top of the steps, jumping up and down with our arms raised in the air, emulating the Italian Stallion in the scene from Rocky. I’m sure we looked foolish, but it didn’t matter to us. I had just crushed 32 miles in a total running time of 5 hours and 20 minutes, earning the right to celebrate any way I saw fit. The joy of the day, however, was only just beginning.

  Kelly Rippin, a reporter from WBOY-TV in Morgantown, did an interview with me. While I was on the road, she checked in with me weekly to report on my progress. After a brief interview, we quickly headed to Appalachian Power Park, home to the West Virginia Power, a minor league baseball team. I was honored to be chosen to throw out the ceremonial first pitch before the game. When we arrived at the front gate in the RV, our kids and my parents were there waiting for us. I squeezed the children tight and shed some tears of joy because I missed them so much during the time we were apart.

  After a quick shower and change of clothes in the RV, we headed into the stadium, where we were greeted by Charleston mayor Danny Jones. He was also a former Marine, so it was even more of an honor to have him express his gratitude for what we were doing for veterans. We walked out to the pitcher’s mound, where the mayor presented me with a key to the city and then handed me a microphone to address the crowd.

  “If you are a veteran of the United States military, please stand up,” I said. “Would everyone please give them a round of applause? These are the men and women I am doing this for, and they are the ones who deserve the applause, not me.”

  I then climbed to the top of the pitcher’s mound for the ceremonial pitch, hoping not to embarrass myself in front of my wife and kids. I did my best to keep the catcher in his crouched position, making sure I threw the baseball hard enough to get it across the plate. He stood up quickly to catch it, but at least it didn’t bounce across the plate. I raised my arm like I had just struck out the final batter to win the World Series and then jogged off the field. What a great Father’s Day experience that was.

  After watching part of the game we said goodbye to our kids, knowing they would rejoin us in a couple of days when we made our way into Burnsville. Tiffany and I then received massages from Kristin Pauley, a licensed massage therapist in Charleston who is friends with Jim Sweezy. I hadn’t had a complete massage since I started the run, and she worked me over, laughing about how tense I was. We then enjoyed a great meal at the Bridge Road Bistro, although I was in a complete fog during dinner because the massage had completely relaxed me. We both slept better that night than we had in a long time.

  Running with Heroes

  The following morning I got moving early, but instead of heading out to begin my run I dropped by a West Virginia Radio Corporation studio to conduct interviews with some of the stations that had so loyally given me publicity and support during the journey. Without their continued support, we wouldn’t have reached nearly as many people to inform them about our mission.

  Mike Agnello and Rick Johnson with WCHS-AM faithfully did interviews with me a couple of times a week during the run. It was great to finally sit down with them that morning to share more stories about the journey and to personally thank them for all of their support. Brian Egan from WKWS-FM not only interviewed me, but said that after his morning shift wrapped up he would come out to run a few miles with me.

  We left the station around 6:45 a.m. and headed over to the capitol, our finishing point from the previous day. Fellow West Virginia Mountain Trail Runners members Greg and Paula Smith, motorcycle riders from the American Legion and numerous media and police vehicles escorted us out of town. The biggest highlight for me, though, was having members of the 130th Air National Guard running alongside me.

  The rain was pouring down, but it didn’t bother me. I cherished the opportunity to chat with the guardsmen for the next five miles about their service and how much I appreciated their company on the run. Without realizing it initially, I discovered that we ran those first few miles at a seven-minute pace, which was a good three minutes faster per mile than I had been running. But since my adrenaline was flowing, I just decided to ride the wave of excitement. Having some of my heroes running by my side was one of the most enjoyable moments of the trip.

  At my first aid stop the rain began to let up and I said goodbye to the soldiers and others who had escorted me that morning. When I began running on Route 119 I had a huge smile on my face thinking abo
ut the awesome experience of running with the soldiers. As I continued to make my way down the road, Joni Adams from the Tallman Track Club met up with me again.

  “I just didn’t get enough miles in with you yesterday,” she told me, “so I wanted to run with you some more today.”

  As we ran she began sharing with me her experiences running ultramarathons and other races she had completed over the years. I quickly realized I was running with a very seasoned runner, although she was very humble about her accomplishments. Instead, she preferred to focus on the effect my run was having on many of her students.

  We continued north on Route 119, and had a lot of residents along the path standing outside waving and cheering us on. The story of the run had reached so many in the area, and they all just wanted to come out to encourage me. At one point, a gentleman ran out to the end of his driveway and presented me with an American flag that he had plucked from his flagpole in his front yard.

  “I want you to have this and carry it with pride,” he said.

  Joni, noticing the man approaching, slowed down so that she was off in the distance in order to allow the man to have some personal time to talk with me. Tiffany had just driven past in the RV and she stopped when she noticed the encounter. With tears streaming down my face, I thanked the man and began running again, spreading the flag out behind my head. Tiffany was right there to capture the moment and it was one of my favorite photographs of our entire journey.

  It was such an honor to do this run, and having a stranger hand me his American flag meant so much to me. It took me a few minutes to compose myself, and when I did I slowed down so that Joni could rejoin me. I appreciated her falling back to allow me to reflect on that special moment.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it?” she stated. “A lot of people are very proud of you for what you are doing, and you’re inspiring a huge number of people.”

  About 15 miles into the run, the rain began to let up and Joni left to head back home. I did an interview with Chris Lawrence from West Virginia MetroNews, who had been following and filming me since I left on the run that morning. When I was about nine miles outside of Clendenin, David Brinckman, the town’s chief of police, met me. It was his day off, but he said he wanted to provide me with a police escort to my finish point for the day. He followed behind me, keeping the cars that approached us from behind a safe distance away. With so many blind spots on this road, I was thankful for his escort.

  As we got within a couple of miles of town, I noticed a number of kids standing alongside the road. When I got up to them, they said they were members of the local middle school cross country team and asked if they could join me for the last couple of miles of my run.

  “Of course you can!” I said. I was happy to have the company, especially of young runners. After we got moving I asked if any of them had any questions for me about my run.

  “How much do you eat?” asked one of the kids.

  “Do you sleep?” asked another.

  The time passed quickly as I answered their flurry of questions. It was great to see so many kids in this small community out being active. I encouraged them to continue to train hard for the cross country team and thanked them for being a part of my journey. When we arrived in Clendenin, the parents of all of the kids were there to cheer us on to the finish. I was also pleasantly surprised to see my good friend Rusty Walker there cheering with everyone else. I talked to him numerous times on the run, especially when I needed someone to listen to some of the trials I was enduring that I didn’t want to burden Tiffany with. Rusty joked that after all I had been through, he was happy to see that I was still alive.

  I finished up the 30-mile run just north of Clendenin, with Chief Brinckman blocking traffic from the rear and Brian Egan from WKWS-FM joining me for a run again to wrap up my day. For the first time in my life, I rode in the front seat of a police cruiser when Chief Brinckman drove me back into town, where Tiff was waiting for me at Dairy Queen. A large hot fudge sundae was calling my name.

  “Don’t even think of paying us for that,” said the store manager. “You’ve earned it.”

  The Brinckmans offered us their home for the night, and after cleaning up there we headed back to Charleston to attend an event at the Quarrier Diner, which was organized by the owners and Jim Sweezy. The owners of the diner, David and Anna Pollitt, were the parents of a good friend of mine, Tim Pollitt, who had tragically passed away a year earlier. His parents talked about how proud Tim would be of me and how honored they were to host a room full of friends, veterans and community members. I addressed the crowd, thanking them for coming out to support us and our veterans. The encouragement we received that night and the stories we heard from those who had served our country, dating all the way back to Vietnam, was something I’ll never forget. It was another reminder about why we were doing this, and how much of a difference we were truly making.

  Running with a Purpose

  As I made my way toward the border of Braxton County, where I grew up, on June 20 (which coincidentally is West Virginia Day) I noticed a sign hanging on the end of a guardrail just below the county sign. I couldn’t make it out until I got about 20 feet from it, and when I was able to read it, a huge smile came across my face.

  “Braxton County Welcomes YOU Jamie!”

  For the next five miles, I saw similar signs posted all along the roadway, some of which I could tell were made by young children.

  One that was made using purple glitter read: “Running for Wounded Warriors.”

  “Thanks Jamie!” read another.

  One sign in particular literally stopped me in my tracks. In bright purple glitter it read: “Running for Purple Heart Veterans” with the shape of a heart in place of the word. It was a very touching sign because it was about the wounded veterans for which I had specifically begun this run.

  The rest of the way into the small town of Gassaway, I was continually greeted by friends I hadn’t seen since I was in school. During one stretch I was joined by the daughters of Lauri Spencer, who was one of my former classmates. Kate and Anne were on the high school cross country team and ran with me for a few miles until we came to a large crowd gathered to greet me. Among the people in the crowd was a World War II veteran who I was honored to speak with briefly. The encouragement I received from the people in the area really meant a lot to me.

  When we wrapped up the day early that afternoon the temperature and humidity were both in the 90s. Tiffany told me that earlier she received a phone call from Riki Hall, who had been looking after our cats in our home in Morgantown. When Riki walked into our house earlier in the day she was blasted by the warm air, a result of our air conditioning unit failing. She had already contacted a local heating and cooling company to repair the unit. We were so thankful we had many friends like that who were always there to help out in a time of need.

  We checked into the Flatwoods Days Inn a little early and were waiting for our room to be prepared when the owner, John Skidmore, met Tiffany in the hall. Noticing her Running for Wounded Warriors shirt, he politely asked, “Are you with the runner guy?”

  “Yes,” she said. “He’s outside getting more of our things for the night.”

  “I’ve got a different room for you guys tonight,” he said. I met them in the lobby, and we were quickly escorted to the Governor’s suite.

  “You guys deserve a good night’s rest,” John said.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I said humbly as I thanked him.

  “Don’t say anything. Just enjoy the downtime. Maybe we’ll get a chance to run together soon.”

  “I’d like that, but I think I’m done for the night,” I laughed.

  The Braxton County Rotary Club was holding its meeting at the hotel and the group invited us to attend the dinner and share the story of our journey. Joined by our kids and my parents, we enjoyed the opportunity to thank the community for being so supportive of us. I told them I wanted to not only make West Virginia proud of our efforts, but e
specially the people of Braxton County and my hometown of Burnsville.

  “You’ve done more than you’ll ever know!” one of the attendees told me.

  Rosie the Riveter

  The next morning I headed off from Gassaway toward the WDBS-FM radio station, where my former classmate Palmer Stephens worked and had been doing regular interviews with me throughout the run. There we were met by Lauri Spencer and her second grade class from Frametown Elementary. Lauri had been using my run as a geography lesson, allowing the students to track my progress across America. They also had spent the past couple of months raising money for our cause. At the radio station, the class presented me with their donation. I was so excited to meet all of the students and I let them know the money they had raised would go toward helping those who served in the military.

  With the interview and presentation from the second grade class complete, Tiffany and I backtracked in the RV to the Braxton County Senior Center, where my mom had arranged for me to speak at 9 a.m. I hopped out of the RV and ran across a bridge that led to the center. Many of the residents were lined up along the bridge, cheering me on as I ran.

  When I approached the entrance to the facility, I saw some of the most beautifully dressed women I had ever seen. They were a group of ladies at least 70 years old that call themselves the Braxton Belles. The oldest member was 93. They were dressed in Victorian-style dresses, right down to the frilly hats and gloves. Each one had on a different color: bright yellow, red, aqua and green.

  “You didn’t have to get all dressed up for me!” I joked as I approached them.

  “It only took us a couple of hours to get all this on,” answered one of the ladies, standing there with a beautiful smile on her face.