Later on that week, I shared the story on my blog about that day, and how I had reacted to the weather and road conditions I experienced. The comments posted in response by readers were quite humorous. “Let it out!” one person commented. Another person wrote, “You need the negative moments to make the recovery of your spirit grand. Ever hear of makeup sex? You just did that with your mind.”
Chapter 10: Watching the Corn Grow
“If I can just make it to the Central time zone, I know I can make it to the finish.”
That thought would often run through my mind both before I started this trek, and many times throughout the first few weeks of the run. Approaching my third time zone and the 50-day mark was something that really provided sincere belief that the final destination and the 100-day goal was within my grasp. Aside from a few moments of mental weakness—which often coincided with physical weakness—I never doubted my ability to finish. My ability to finish within 100 days, however, was something I questioned from time to time.
But at this point I knew that I had already conquered what I thought would be the toughest legs of the trip. I dealt with freezing temperatures and heavy snowstorms in Oregon and Wyoming, dime-sized hail in Colorado, pouring rain throughout the early states, the deserts of Nevada and Utah and the highest peaks of the entire trip in Wyoming.
Cutting through the corners of Colorado and Nebraska saved me from even higher peaks through the Rockies and it provided sections that were flat. The downside to that route, however, was that it meant we would be passing through populated communities infrequently. And one of the purposes of this run was to get out in front of as many people as possible in order to spread the word about our mission.
Those concerns were quickly dispelled, however, because there were many times when we were out on the road or near a small town and people would stop by the RV to learn more about the run, donate money and share their own stories of triumph or tragedy. Having the vehicle wrap on the motorhome promoting the run was a tremendous avenue for enabling us to advertise the run and its purpose.
No matter what town we passed through, we were always greeted with smiles, waves and tremendous hospitality. This hospitality would be none more evident than when we passed through the Colorado/Nebraska border and into the small town of Imperial, Nebraska.
The wind was still brisk as I crossed the border into Nebraska, and looking at the map, I had about eight miles of straight road to tackle before the end of my day. Prior to the slight right I made on US Route 6 coming into Nebraska, I had run the previous 28 miles on an extremely flat road, with only a small left-hand turn that I saw coming at me for about 10 miles. With the various crops (primarily corn) still in their infancy, there was really no barrier to block the wind that was whipping across the plains. Living in West Virginia, I’m not accustomed to these types of winds because the hills tend to break the wind up. But out here, the wind was able to charge full steam ahead. Even though the temperature was rising, I still couldn’t shake the chill that hit me with each gust of wind. But having learned my lesson in Kansas that I shouldn’t complain, I knew there was nothing to do except continue to press forward.
One of the things I always do when I run is take note of vehicles approaching me or passing me along the road. For whatever reason, I have always been good about remembering the make, model and color of cars that I see while I’m on a run. It tends to keep me from getting too bored at times when my mind can wander. On this long, straight stretch, I took note of a large red truck (in this region, most of the vehicles that passed me were large pickups) that was hauling an all-terrain vehicle (ATV) in the bed of the truck. I jokingly told myself that I wished the driver would have stopped and allowed me to ride the ATV to my finishing point for the day.
I finished my run that day a short while later at the intersection of Route 6 and 315 Avenue. Since the nearest town, Lamar, didn’t have an advertised RV hookup location, and the closest town to that was Imperial, we decided to just find the nearest place to park the RV. It just so happened that at the intersection, there were two large farm buildings and a number of grain elevators.
Sitting in the parking lot of the property was the red truck that passed me about an hour earlier, minus the ATV in the back. The owner had a loading ramp hanging off the back of the truck, which I told Tiff hopefully meant that they would be returning soon so that we could seek permission to park the RV in the lot for the night. Our fingers were crossed that the owner would also have a power outlet that we could use to power the electricity in the RV for the evening as well. Asking for assistance is one thing that we became very straight-forward and open about on the trip, something that was not second nature to us before.
About 15 minutes after we parked, I heard the ATV approach, so I stepped outside the RV to greet the owner. Tom Arterburn introduced himself and listened to my story as I explained our mission and that we hoped to be able to camp here in the RV tonight. Tom told us it was his family’s property and that he would call his father, John, to check. But he mentioned that he didn’t think his father would object, and he pointed to the back of our RV.
“That right there means a lot to our family, so there shouldn’t be a problem at all,” he said as he pointed to the license plate.
When we registered the RV, one of the things that I wanted to do was show our pride in being veterans of the armed forces, so in bright red letters the West Virginia-issued license plate read “VETERAN” just above the license plate number.
“We really appreciate it a lot,” I said to Tom as he headed toward his truck.
A few minutes after I showered and cleaned up, John pulled up in his truck. We stepped out to introduce ourselves, and he told me his son had already explained everything to him and it would be no problem for us to stay.
After thanking him, I shared some of the stories of people we had met and how encouraging it was to encounter people like his family who went out of their way to help us out.
“We appreciate the men and women in the military, and will do what we can to support them,” he said.
As John pulled away, his son, who had been washing his truck and ATV, came back over to the RV and asked if the kids would like to get out of the RV for a while. He said he had talked to a good friend of his who had a bunch of horses and cattle on their farm, and wanted to see if the kids wanted to go for a ride.
“Yes!” exclaimed both of the kids. I asked Tiff if she wanted to go, and she declined, saying it would be good for her to just get some time alone to clean up the RV and have some quiet time. Understanding completely, the kids and I jumped into the truck with Tom, who took us to his friend Colton’s farm, where there was a horse outside. Seeing both of the kids with smiles on their faces, eyes beaming brightly at the view from atop the gorgeous animal they were on was something that felt really good. I knew the trip had taken its toll on the kids and they had grown tired of being inside the “box on wheels,” but they rarely complained. The fun time they had riding the horse, playing with the farm dogs and “chatting” with the cattle really lifted their spirits.
Tom took us to another part of the farm and pulled up next to a big combine tractor. He allowed the kids to climb inside the tractor—a behemoth of a machine with wheels that easily were taller than our RV. Nick described to me the amount of circuitry and computer equipment inside the tractor, and Tom explained that they program the combines by GPS and can get down to the inch as far as where they need the tractors to go in the fields. I watched in awe as Nick and Shayna both took turns driving the tractor, raising and lowering the forks on the front.
I learned a lot about America and its terrain on this trip, and this part of the run through the Midwest was no exception. Having flown over the Midwest numerous times, I often wondered how those large, perfectly round plots of land were created as I looked down from the plane above. Not having any flat land like that back home in West Virginia, nor having spent any time in the Midwest, it was always one of those mysteries
to me. I’ll never forget the day on one of my runs through the Midwest when I realized exactly what caused those circles to be formed. No, it wasn’t the work of aliens or pranksters. Massive irrigation systems that looked like they were a quarter mile in length, attached to a massive motor with wheels about every 50 feet or so, connected to a base that would complete a half circle, and sometimes a full rotation, on a plot of land that spanned acres. It honestly took about three or four days of running by these systems before it even clicked with me what type of pattern they were creating on the surface, and when it did click, I shook my head at myself for not solving that “mystery” sooner. You learn something new every day, especially crossing America on foot.
Tom drove us back to our RV and while we were thanking him for giving the kids and I a great time on their farm, this 21-year-old reached into his pocket and pulled a $50 bill out of his wallet, handing it to me.
“I want you to take this money to help out with your cause. I really appreciate what you’re doing and I want you to know that my family and I are grateful for all those who have served in the military and what they have done for our family.”
His gesture and words were signs of his maturity and the good values that his parents had instilled in him.
Mother’s Day Parade
The following morning was Mother’s Day, and as the kids and I awoke, we saw an absolutely gorgeous sun peeking over the horizon of farmland. It was difficult to try to celebrate special days during this trip, but we tried to make do with what we had and Mother’s Day was no different. A couple of weeks earlier, the kids and I had bought some cards and a necklace for Tiffany so we would be able to give them to her on this day.
Tiffany had purchased a French press coffee maker to bring on our trip and had become pretty proficient at using it to make some great-smelling coffee. I had just a few sips of the brew on the whole journey, so I hadn’t really used it at all, but on this morning I did my best to make her a cup. Nicholas fixed her some cinnamon-sprinkled toast. “Nothing but the best for mommy on Mother’s Day,” we told her. Even though it wasn’t the most special of breakfasts or ways to celebrate the day, Tiffany really made us feel like we had made her feel special on this morning.
As I climbed out of the RV to begin my run that morning, Colton, whose family owned the farm where our kids rode the horse and drove the combine, pulled up in his pickup truck. I told him again how thankful I was for allowing our kids to have a great time on his farm. “It’s nothing compared to what you guys are doing,” he said. He then handed me a $100 bill to be added to the funds we were raising for veteran-based charities. I ran back to the RV, beaming as I went inside, to give Tiffany the money.
As I started to head out again, John Arterburn pulled up and asked if we needed anything else before we got going. I told him we were fine and thanked him again for allowing us to stay on his property. I also shared how wonderful his son was to all of us the previous day and how proud he must be of his son.
“That’s just the way we are around these parts,” he said.
I headed on down the road, with about 20 miles of straight road in front of me before I entered Imperial. The highway was very kind to me. The road was wide and the shoulders were soft, giving my feet and knees a break from the pavement I had been bouncing on for the past 50 days. I took my time and just marveled at the vastness and the beauty of the fields that surrounded me. I was amazed at how fortunate we are to be able to enjoy the fruits (and vegetables) of all of the hard work so many farmers do each day. I had the chance to see it in action as well. As I ventured into the lower elevations out of Colorado, I encountered fields that had been freshly plowed, and was now witnessing the corn and other crops coming out of the ground. I’ve often heard and used the term “watching grass grow.” Well, I literally saw corn grow on this trip.
About 13 miles into my run on Route 6, a truck came toward me and pulled over to the side of the road. A man stepped out of the truck and introduced himself as Dwight Coleman, the mayor of Imperial, Nebraska. He told me that one of his council members had called and told him we stayed in his lot last night.
“I know you’ll be headed into town in about an hour,” Dwight said, “and even though I don’t have much time, I wanted to let you know I’m going to try to put something together for you before you arrive.”
I had just got back on the road from a stop in the RV, so I told him that Tiff was less than a half mile behind me in the RV and that he could swing back to coordinate any plans he may have with her. He spent about three minutes talking with Tiff and the kids, and then blew the horn as he drove past me, heading back toward Imperial. I was feeling really energized at this point, excited about what was to come and the outpouring of support that people were giving us.
About seven miles later I approached a right-hand turn and on the right side of the road were two teenagers and a man standing there waiting for me. As I approached them, the man told me he was the coach of the local high school cross country team, and the two teenagers were members of his team. He apologized for not being able to round up other runners, but he wanted to get some of the boys out to run with me. We rounded a corner, and I couldn’t believe what was in front of me.
Parked alongside the road was the RV, and across the road were a police car, a fire truck and numerous other vehicles, including a couple of motorcycles. Standing near the RV were Tiffany, the kids and about 20 other people. I made my way to the group and was introduced by the mayor to members of the city staff and a local reporter for the Imperial Republican, Jan Shultz, who we had spoken to the previous night. In less than an hour, the mayor of Imperial had managed to arrange an impromptu parade through town. This just blew my mind!
With the police cruiser leading the way, myself, the two high school runners and my son ran through the town of Imperial, followed by the motorcycles, the fire truck and the RV. My head was held high as we ran down the street. I knew it was nearly noon and realizing that it was Sunday, and Mother’s Day, I didn’t expect many people to be out on the streets. I was dead wrong!
Many families who were returning home from church had pulled their vehicles off to the side of the road to wave at us, cheer and offer words of encouragement as they hung their heads out their car windows. Many others were standing, lining the streets. Several were waving small American flags attached to wooden sticks and saying, “Thank you” as we ran by. The scene seemed surreal—like I was in a scene of a movie where a soldier returns to his small hometown from the war and is greeted with a hero’s welcome. The amount of pride I felt at that moment was indescribable. I believe you could have seen my smile all the way in Kansas, and as flat as the terrain around us was, that was probably true.
At the end of our two-mile run through Imperial, we pulled over to allow everyone to part ways and wish us well. John Arterburn had Tiffany drive the RV back into town so he could pay to fill up the gas tank (with the price of gas and the size of the tank, spending $150 to fill it up became commonplace). The whole experience was unbelievable and we could never thank them enough for how they welcomed us into their small town and treated us as though we were family. Even though I ran 37 miles that day, it felt like a seven-mile day because I was so energized by the experiences we shared with the amazing people in Imperial, Nebraska.
We ended the day at Enders State Park, enjoying a nice stroll along the lake and grilling hot dogs with the kids over the fire pit. The kids treated Tiffany to a backrub that night and Shayna brushed her hair. What began as coffee and cinnamon toast turned into an amazing Mother’s Day.
Common Bonds
My final full day in Nebraska was rather uneventful. I wrapped up the run just outside of McCook with temperatures hovering around 90 degrees. About a mile from the end of my run, I noticed another runner approaching me from the other side of the road and he crossed over to greet me. His name was Justin Walker and he explained that he was on a “running sabbatical.” He was an ultramarathon runner and was in betwee
n jobs, so he wanted to travel around for a couple of months and take the opportunity to run in some beautiful areas of the country.
Justin reversed course and we ran the last mile in to the RV. We talked for a little while about both of our journeys and how cool it was to cross paths like this. He wanted to get a few miles in with me the next morning, so we set up our RV that night at the city park and he set up camp in his truck next to us. The next morning Justin drove his truck 11 miles ahead into McCook and then rode back in the RV to our starting point.
We ran at an enjoyable pace and shared some good conversation as he ran with me the first 15.5 miles. We remained in touch after that day and he sent me several encouraging text messages throughout the rest of my trek. During my training the previous two years I preferred to run alone since I wasn’t confident enough in my conditioning to be able to talk with fellow runners. But I was beginning to realize that I had transformed into a runner who pretty much wouldn’t shut up when someone joined me. I wasn’t running out of breath as I talked and ran, which was a testament to the conditioning that I had built up. I turned into such a chatter box that when people ran with me, I typically apologized for talking so much. Those who ran with me, however, always said they enjoyed listening to some of the incredible stories that I had to share.
As I neared Oberlin, Kansas, the temperature continued to climb and the wind picked up. The wind shifted a lot across my body, which put some strain on my knees. As the day wore on, the pain in my right knee around my iliotibial (IT) band, which runs along the outside of the leg from the hip to below the knee, continued to worsen, but I kept moving forward as best as possible. During my aid stops I would ice it and stretch it out, and I tried to run as gently as possible. By the time I reached the Oberlin airport, I had navigated a number of rolling hills that continued to put more pressure on my knees. The wind was also blowing directly into my face and, combined with the 92-degree temperature, slowed me down to almost a crawl.
Freedom Run Page 15