Minus the wind and heat I had to run through in Kansas, we met some of the kindest people as we passed through. The owner of the Jellystone Campground in Lawrence who put us up for the night and had food delivered to the RV was amazing. The owner of the Blue Heron Grill in Clay Center, who was an Army veteran, left a note on our RV asking us to stop by for a complimentary meal. Lynnelle Kummelehne, who was among those who saw us off in Oregon, grew up in Clay Center and put us up in a hotel room for the night. The UPS driver in Topeka who saw my story on TV and saw me running really encouraged me by stopping alongside the road to say thank you. She told me how proud she was of her niece, who was currently serving in Iraq. As my wife parked in the parking lot of the Cottage Inn in Bellvue, the owner came out and gave us a peach pie (I believe I could have had that every day; it was delicious). Chris and Marilyn, a couple in Kansas City who were members of the local Hash House Harriers, offered us some great hospitality, including some authentic Kansas City barbecue.
I could go on and on because there were so many great people who stepped up to help us out and encourage us along the way. It’s just too bad I couldn’t have gotten them to form a human barrier in front of me in order to block the Kansas wind while I ran through the state.
People Matter
I was extremely happy to finally make it into Missouri. Kansas had certainly taken its toll on me both mentally and physically. I was able to adjust to the rolling hills, but the wind really took a lot out of me. “This is supposed to be getting easier,” I kept telling myself, when in reality it wasn’t. On average, my daily runs increased by almost an hour every day through Kansas, even though I was logging the same mileage. The wind slowed me down that much, and when the wind would subside for a bit, the 95-degree temperatures made sure I didn’t receive any relief. At this point in the run, I didn’t think much could put a smile on my face.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine. We’re out of Kansas now,” Tiffany kept saying. Little did I know that she had been plotting one of the most encouraging moments for me on the trip with some very good friends.
After a day of running and frustration, I hopped into the shower to cool off both my body and my attitude. I had just finishing shaving when my son knocked on the bathroom door in the RV, asking me to step out because he needed me to help with something. I stepped out into the hallway and my jaw nearly hit the floor.
Sitting on the couch in our motorhome were Aaron and Sandy Yocum, our good friends from back home in West Virginia. I ran at both of them and just held them both for the longest time, shedding tears of joy about their surprise visit. They both had been such an encouragement as I got into ultramarathon running. For this trip across the US, they helped me train, helped us organize and put on the successful silent auction and kept in touch with us the whole way. Now they had driven more than 14 hours to surprise me and join me on part of the run.
They couldn’t have shown up at a better time. My spirits were down because of the weather and knee pain, but at that very moment I felt like nothing could stop me from finishing this run. Tiff just kind of shrugged her shoulders and smiled when I asked her how long this had been planned.
“You look like you’ve lost a little weight the past two months,” Sandy commented. “But you’re not as skinny as I thought you’d be.”
“Tiff has been keeping me well fed,” I said with a smile.
After chatting for a while, the Yocums headed to their hotel and took our kids with them so they could swim in the pool. About 30 minutes later, there was another knock on the motorhome door. Brian McClanahan and his wife, Shawnee, along with their two children, Darrian and Brayden, had driven nearly eight hours that day from Dallas, Texas, to meet us in Odessa, Kansas. Shawnee was a part of our “Fun Bunch” in Japan.
One of the greatest things about this run was the opportunity to rekindle old friendships, especially with some former Marines who I hadn’t seen in 15 years. That began in Coos Bay at the launch of the run, continued here in Kansas and would also continue later at the end of our journey. It was a bit overwhelming for me that day, but it was super encouraging. Once everyone headed to their overnight accommodations, I just sat down on the edge of the bed in the RV with a huge smile on my face and tears streaming down my cheeks. I couldn’t wait to get up the next morning and start running with everyone.
The next morning when we woke up, the temperature was already starting to climb, but thankfully the winds were a bit calmer. I don’t think a tornado could have slowed me down, however, because I was so excited to be reunited with such great friends. The first few miles of the day, I was joined by Aaron, Sandy, Shawnee and her 7-year old son, Brayden, leading the way.
“He has been so excited to come run with you,” Shawnee told me. Sporting his cool Terminator sunglasses and spiked red hair, Brayden gave a thumbs up and started running. My adrenaline kicked into overdrive, and with the wind almost non-existent, I was running at a pretty good pace.
“You don’t slow down at all on the hills do you?” Sandy asked.
My conditioning was the best it had ever been in my life, and I didn’t really know any gear other than forward. We knocked those first few miles out, and then Brian joined us for a while.
“When I told my friends we were driving eight hours to come run with you,” Brian said, “everyone just looked at me and with the same dumbfounded look on their faces and said the same thing: ‘Why?’ I told them I believed in your mission. You’re doing a good thing, Summerlin. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world … sweat and all.”
Shawnee joined us again for another section until we hit 14 miles. We laughed as we ran, recalling stories from long ago in Japan and talking about friends this run had reconnected us with. So many of my fellow Marines encouraged us through email and Facebook and we knew they were with us in spirit on that day. At the end of that section, Shawnee and Brian hopped back into their vehicle and headed back toward Dallas. We spent just a few hours together, but they were hours that I treasured.
When Aaron, Sandy and I headed back out again, it was only 9:30 a.m. but already 85 degrees. They are fellow ultramarathon runners, and have many more years of running experience than I, so they were able to run the 35 miles that day with me, conquering it in just more than six hours, even with a high temperature of 95 that day. As they prepared to drive back to West Virginia, I thanked them so much for their support, encouragement and surprise visit.
“It was only one percent of your journey,” Aaron said, “but I was happy to be a part of it.”
Memorable Day
May 28 was a pretty emotional day for me. The previous day I spent time and ran with some of my best friends in the world, riding an emotional high. The following morning, however, I was on an emotional low. Maybe it was missing our friends who were with us just a short time. Maybe it was realizing I still had more than a month to go before I completed the mission. I think more than anything, however, the realization that it was Memorial Day is what really weighed heavily on my heart. Memorial Day is a day to remember and be thankful for those who lost their lives for the glory and honor of our country. Considering I was doing this run for veterans, the day had even more significance to me this year.
Every Veterans Day, I always called my uncle Butch McPherson, who I was very close to, to thank him for his service. We had the bond of serving this amazing country honorably, and I always enjoyed that conversation. This Memorial Day morning, I called both him and my uncle Roger Clark, who served in the National Guard, to thank them both for their service. I’m sure for the first minute or so when I was talking to Butch, he was wondering what was wrong, because I could barely get the words out I was sobbing so hard. I poured out all of the emotions I had built up and he just listened quietly. When I finally finished talking, Butch paused for a moment and then said some powerful words to me.
“You served as well, and I appreciate you.”
My chest swelled with pride as he spoke.
“We just did what
was asked of us, and that’s all we could do,” he continued. “Let’s just be thankful we can celebrate our freedom with our families.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised at his words because fellow veterans have an understanding and appreciation for one another. We are a family, and we understand what serving our country means.
Later that morning I did a radio interview with Jim Stallings of WAJR radio in West Virginia. He was hosting a special Memorial Day show and I relayed to his listeners some of the emotional calls I had already made to my uncles. I also let Jim know how proud I was of his family, knowing that his father had lost his life in Vietnam. I took every opportunity given during this journey to thank veterans and their families, but on Memorial Day it meant just so much more to be able to express my gratitude for those who served and those who gave their lives for our freedom.
Making Others Cry
I have always been an emotional sap, not afraid to show my feelings at any time. My kids have that quality about them as well, and it showed the morning we were headed towards Williamsburg, Missouri.
Tiffany had called the Lazy Days RV Park just outside of Williamsburg, telling them about our journey and asking if they had a spot for us that evening. They stated that not only did they have a spot for us, but the spot was on the house that night. Tiffany learned that the park has a painted wall on the side of the shower house by the pool. In big letters, the wall reads, “I’m Proud to be an American.” Also on the wall are signatures and comments from many who stayed there, thanking those who have served our country.
At one of the pit stops, Tiff told me about the wall. I was sitting by Shayna as Tiff was explaining it to me, and I felt this overwhelming desire to sing one of my favorite songs, “God Bless the USA,” made popular by Lee Greenwood during my first year in the Marine Corps. I held Shayna tight as I sang each verse and the chorus, doing my best to stay on key. She listened intently as I sang, hanging onto every word as I held her in my arms.
“I’m proud to be an American, where at least I know I’m free. And I won’t forget the men who died, who gave that right to me. And I gladly stand up, next to you and defend her still today. ‘Cause there ain’t no doubt I love this land. God bless the USA.”
As I belted out the chorus a final time, Shayna leaned over onto my shoulder and just started crying her eyes out.
“Was my singing that bad?” I asked.
She looked right into my eyes, wiping her tears away. “No daddy,” she said.
Later, we talked more about that moment and I asked her why she was moved to tears.
“Because the words of that song reminded me of all the heroes who lost their lives for us.”
I cannot begin to explain how proud I was of my 10-year-old girl at that moment. When I was 10, I was focused on playing in the woods and never gave any thought to what our members of the armed forces were going through. Yet here was my daughter being brought to tears thinking about the ultimate sacrifice that so many had made for our country and us. Shayna showed at that moment that even at the tender age of 10, she completely understood why we put our comfortable lives on hold to make this trek across the US.
When we arrived at the RV park and saw what I called “The Wall of Inspiration,” it was an absolutely inspiring sight to behold. The wall contained signatures not only from military members and families, but others who expressed their gratitude to those who have served so bravely. I was motivated again later that evening by the opportunity to once again share the story of our heroes when I did a Skype interview with Right This Minute, a news organization with a large national reach.
We were also getting closer to St. Louis, and the entire family was bubbling with anticipation about being able to visit the Gateway Arch and a large city. I took advantage of the cooler temperatures and flat roads over the next few days to pack on a few extra miles each day. I wanted to make our day in St. Louis a shorter running day so we would have as much time as possible to do some sight-seeing.
The day I ran into St. Louis, I only needed to log 26.4 miles. While three years ago that marathon distance would have been intimidating, at this point it was a short, easy run. I wrapped up the run just after noon, and was able to spend the rest of the day touring with the family.
Riding up into the Gateway Arch was something we were happy to experience … once. We must have been there during the busiest time, because there were people everywhere and we all felt a bit claustrophobic inside. Visiting this monument was something we were looking forward to doing ever since we drove past it three months earlier on our way out to Oregon for the start of the run.
Due to the amount of time I spent running every day, and the amount of recovery time I needed, I rarely had the opportunity to do much other than run, eat and sleep. The afternoon spent touring St. Louis was a great break from that routine. We were also excited to be getting closer to the fourth and final time zone. So after a relaxing afternoon in St. Louis, it was back to running, eating and sleeping.
Chapter 12: 100 Marathons
“Jamie Shane Summerlin”
When I heard those words in the late spring of 1990 and began to walk across the platform at my high school graduation, I felt like I was on top of the world. I also felt like I had just conquered the world, having graduated from high school and now ready to tackle adulthood with the force of those football players who used to knock me down on the gridiron. So as I shook my principal’s hand and received my diploma, I hoisted it high in the air in celebration of achieving a dream. Looking back, I probably played up the moment a little more dramatically than I should have. Of course as a teenager everything is always a bit more dramatic than reality turns out to be.
I thought that becoming an adult meant that I now enjoyed the freedom to make my own decisions. Seventeen days later, my drill instructors at boot camp proved otherwise. My life was dramatically transformed over the next three months as the Marine Corps molded me into a man.
“Platoon 1094, dismissed!”
As I stepped forward on the edge of the parade deck at Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island, South Carolina, hearing those words was another moment when I thought that I had conquered the world. Even though at that time I was signed to serve my country, I still felt like I could take my life in endless directions and that nothing could slow me down.
“Thank you, Jamie, for what you are doing for our troops.”
Graduating from high school or boot camp were wonderful honors to me at those moments in time. But no other words of congratulations could match the words spoken to me time and time again by the countless people who showed their appreciation of my attempt to run across the US to raise awareness and funds for wounded veterans. Each time someone said those words to me, they caused my chest to fill with 10 times the amount of pride I had when I heard the words congratulating me on my graduation from high school or boot camp. I was honored to meet veterans from so many different chapters in our military’s history on this trip, from World War II veterans who had stormed the beaches of Normandy, to men and women who were bravely serving today.
“Every step is for my heroes,” was all I could muster in response whenever someone showed their gratitude for what I was doing. I just wanted this journey to remain focused on the incredible service members that I was doing this for. I didn’t really have the energy to spend focusing on anything else but my mission, and quite honestly, I didn’t want to. This was the most rewarding adventure I had ever undertaken, and with every kind word passed along to me, the reward continued to grow.
Pressing Forward
Realizing that I was getting closer to home, the days started running together quite nicely at this point. I was cruising through Illinois, now my ninth state, and my energy levels continued to increase. The miles seemed to fly by as I headed through fields of freshly cut spring hay, with the aroma overwhelming at times. Strangely, it seemed like my sensitivity to sounds and smells increased during the course of the run. Perhaps it was my isolat
ion out on the roads that allowed me to soak everything in, but I began to notice my surroundings in a way that I never previously had. The rolling hills I encountered in the Midwest were blanketed by grass and trees in varying shades of green and gold. The emergence of late spring and early summer was something I had been longing for since I began the run in March.
As we closed in on Indiana, we often talked about how fortunate we had been on the trip. Except for my shin injury in Oregon and the busted pipe on the RV in Kansas, we knew we were fortunate to have made it this far into the journey with relatively few major incidents. We had fallen into a pretty good routine, which allowed the days to tick off rather quickly to me as I continued to press forward. Tiffany had her routine of taking care of the kids and me down and the children entertained themselves with geocaching expeditions and playing out in the warmer weather when the daily run was over.
Looking back on it, I had it pretty easy, if you consider running 34 miles a day without any rest days easy. I would get a break from everyone (or more likely they would get a break from me) for an hour or so while I was out on the road, interact with them at the next aid stop for a few minutes and then step back out onto the road again. Tiff did her best to put on a smile and keep everyone’s spirits high, but the duration of the trip was certainly taking its toll. The kids were most definitely ready to get home, and the thought of sleeping in my own bed sounded inviting.
Freedom Run Page 17