I addressed the crowd, thanking them all for coming out to be a part of this amazing journey and asked if any in attendance had served in the military. A number of the men and women raised their hands, as did a couple of the Belles.
“I was a Rosie the Riveter,” said one of the Belles. “I volunteered and was happy to do it. I worked on aircrafts, doing my best to ensure our boys returned home safely. It was hard work, but I’d do it again if I could.”
As a veteran, I had heard the term Rosie the Riveter before, but I didn’t know the full history and meaning of the term or the sacrifices made by those women. I later took some time to research the term, which was coined during World War II and referred to women who took factory jobs to replace men who were called off to fight in the war. Many of those women worked at factories where parts were made for aircrafts or other equipment that was used by the US military in World War II. While opportunities for women to serve in the military have expanded since the 1940s, women who served our country as a Rosie the Riveter played a pivotal role in the war.
It was a true honor for me to spend time with those women. I thought about them and their contributions to our country several times throughout the remainder of my run that day. After leaving the senior center, I was joined by a few runners and a motorcycle and EMS ambulance, which escorted me into Burnsville, where many of my family and friends were waiting for my arrival.
Burnsville’s Tough
For the past 82 days my focus was on honoring veterans with each step that I took. But now, with each step that I took I looked forward to being reunited with family and friends from my hometown who had been so encouraging and supportive of this journey.
The temperature was climbing rapidly, approaching the mid-90s before it was even noon. Dustin Smyth, one of the runners that joined me that day, peeled off in the little town of Heaters (what an appropriate name considering the temperature) about eight miles from Burnsville in order to allow me to run the last several miles into my hometown on my own. I was also set to cross the 3,000-mile mark on the run just as I was entering town.
I had driven this stretch of road hundreds of times over the years, and probably could have run it blindfolded. Instead, I was being escorted into town by the RV and a motorcycle, with the Burnsville chief of police following close behind me. As my shoes slapped the hot pavement beneath my feet, bringing me closer to Burnsville, I became so anxious that I disregarded the effects of the heat. Tiffany pulled the RV over four miles before we got into town and forced me to drink more Gatorade. I was so excited that my pace had increased considerably, although I felt like I was floating during this eight-mile stretch. My mom actually called and asked me to slow down because she was tracking me and was worried that something she had planned wouldn’t be ready for my arrival.
Passing the trailer park that I called home for a few years as a kid and crossing over the last climb into town, I flashed back to the days as a kid when I would ride my bike up this hill, remembering the first time I was ever able to ride the whole way without stopping. Here I was, 30 years later, conquering this hill on foot. Mount Everest could have been in front of me at this point and it wouldn’t have slowed me down. As I reached the crest of the hill, looking down into the little town I grew up in, it was difficult to believe how far I had come, literally and metaphorically, since my childhood. I had obviously grown tremendously as a person in the past 30 years, but much of that growth had occurred in the past three months.
Making my way toward town, I could see a crowd of about 75 people gathered there, waving signs and flags and cheering me on as I approached. A large American flag caught my eye and I noticed that an honor guard had been assembled from the local VFW. With the honor guard leading the way, the crowd walked the final 500 yards with me to the finish for the day.
When I finished, among a large group of family and friends, there stood my grandmother. She had the biggest smile on her face. As I approached to give her a big hug, tears streaming down my face, the cheers became muffled and I became completely unaware that anyone else was around except the two of us. Mamaw, as I called her, was about to celebrate her 87th birthday, and I was so happy to see her. My biggest concern throughout our trip was that something would happen to her while we were gone. I knew that was one of the only things that would take me off schedule. To have her there hugging me and telling me how proud she was of me was a moment I will never forget.
Sadly, about seven months later, she passed away, leaving a tremendous legacy and spirit behind that touched so many people. Knowing that she was there to see my accomplishment and that she was able to create some great memories with all of her many children, grandchildren and great grandchildren really helped ease the pain of our loss. A few of my friends from the military have passed away over the years, and I remember them fondly not only for their friendship, but also for their love of country and service. I think the best way we can honor those who have passed on before us is to take the qualities and values we learned from them and pass them on to our family and friends.
My uncle Butch McPherson addressed the crowd, we said the Pledge of Allegiance and a prayer was offered. I then took the time to thank everyone for being there. A few of my friends yelled out, “Burnsville’s Tough!” a saying we said since we were kids. I was happy to add a little to the legacy and significance of that phrase, which really was an accurate description of the hard-working people from the community.
We capped the celebration with a chocolate cake with chocolate icing, my favorite, courtesy of my mom. Written on the cake in white icing was “Welcome Home Jamie 3000”, celebrating not only my return to Burnsville but also surpassing the 3,000-mile mark. As I celebrated with friends and family, I ate several pieces of cake. Having run 3,000 miles in the past three months, I wasn’t really worried about the calories.
Chapter 14: The Longest Days
My mom had been feverishly working on the Wounded Warrior 5K in Burnsville, starting with the planning and arrangements a few months before we left for Oregon. I ran into Burnsville on a Thursday and the race, to be successful, was scheduled for that Saturday. So on Friday I would run the 29 miles north to Jane Lew and then return to Burnsville to be there for the race the following morning. Saturday, after taking part in the race and festivities, we had to drive back up to Jane Lew for a noon presentation at the Jane Lew Veterans Memorial. From there, I’d run about 20 miles north to Clarksburg, where I was scheduled to visit a VA hospital. Following that, I’d have another seven miles to get to the stopping point. I knew Saturday was going to be a long but fulfilling day.
Burnsville was blanketed by a dense fog when I left for my run early Friday morning. I was so glad to be able to run on familiar roads. I ran right past the home I lived in as a very young kid, down roads that brought back fond memories of riding my bike and swimming in the creeks. The trees were a deep green, and birds provided a constant song for me as I climbed up and over the beautiful rolling hills.
As I made my way through Weston with a police escort behind me, I was greeted by staff at the courthouse and community members who came outside to cheer me on. I was worried about slowing up traffic, but the policeman told me to move at my own pace. After the escort peeled off, I picked up the pace considerably and we made our way to Jane Lew by about 1:30 p.m. I was invited to the Jackson’s Mill State 4-H Camp that afternoon to speak to a group of young leaders. Tiffany worked hard the previous couple of days to put together a slide show of photos she had taken so far on the trip, and we were excited to share our journey with them.
I was in their shoes at one time, participating in 4-H as a kid. I learned a lot about the local community and working together by participating in 4-H. As the slideshow played behind me, I shared stories of the amazing people we met, how I overcame trials during the run and what I hoped to accomplish after the run. It was also a chance to share a valuable message that I learned while I was running across America.. I told the group that if they woke up every morni
ng and set out to inspire someone that day, as night fell, they would be able to look back on their day knowing they lived a fulfilling and meaningful day.
A number of the campers came up to me afterward, some of them very emotional, talking about their fathers who were serving overseas at that time, and how proud they were of them.
“Make sure you tell them that I appreciate their service,” I said, “and let them know how proud you are of them every chance you get.”
We left Jackson’s Mill and headed to the Weston Military Museum, where members of the Patriot Guard motorcycle club and VFW were waiting for us. While on our way out to Oregon, I received a phone call from a couple of veterans from Weston who assured us we would have a welcome like no other when we ran through their town. Mike and Ron didn’t disappoint. They helped coordinate our visit to the museum and American Legion, and media and local community leaders that were there welcomed us like we were royalty.
An honor guard made up of Patriot Guard and local VFW members flanked both sides of the walkway toward the entrance and they raised the flags and saluted me as I walked past. I did not want to disrespect them by asking them to not salute me, so I saluted back and thanked them for being there. We toured the museum, which displayed the rich history of local servicemen and women. We wrapped up the visit with a stop by the American Legion Post #4, and headed back to Burnsville to get some much-needed rest.
Wounded Warrior 5K
The 5K run Saturday morning turned out to be so much more than just a fundraiser in support of our run across America. We had 157 participants driving in from Kentucky, Pennsylvania and Virginia as well as from all over the state of West Virginia. The turnout helped me realize that our run wasn’t just benefiting veterans. The run was affecting so many more people in so many different ways.
My mom had been telling me about the meetings she had been attending with the planning committee leading up to the 5K. She said the weeks leading up to the race created a scene driving though Burnsville like she had never seen before. Every evening in town, she saw groups of people out walking or jogging together to train for the 5K. There were many competitive runners from the region who ran in the race, but what moved me was the number of men, women, boys and girls who were participating in their first-ever race. Several of them told me they had never previously run or walked anything close to the 3.1-mile distance of the event.
That was also the case with many of my former high school classmates who participated in the run. It was almost like a class reunion with 12 members of my graduating class there, and many of them started running after they saw the transformations I had made in my own life after picking up the sport. Seeing the lifestyle changes in people as they realized the benefits of running, or even walking, was a side benefit I never expected with the run, but was excited to witness.
After taking the stage to thank everyone for coming out, it was time to run. Knowing that I had another marathon distance to run later that day, my original plan was to take it easy and enjoy the run. My pace had obviously slowed while running across the country, averaging around 10-minute miles. I also hadn’t raced in months and had put down 3,000 miles in the past 89 days. My friends Aaron and Sandy Yocum, who ran with me in Missouri, drove down from Morgantown for the race. Aaron told me he would roll with whatever pace I wanted to keep. We made it about 200 yards after the bell sounded before the competitor in me came out.
“Let’s do this,” I said as I picked up the pace.
“Let’s go,” Aaron responded, and off we went.
My adrenaline was higher than I had experienced in a while, and I felt really good as we picked up the pace. Aaron and I began to pick off quite a few runners during the first half of the race. At the halfway turn, Sandy was about 100 feet ahead of us, doubling back toward the finish. We caught up to her, and as we went by, Sandy yelled, “I thought you weren’t going to race!”
“Well, it is a race!” I yelled back as I picked up the pace even more.
I did take the time to give high fives and pass along words of encouragement as we passed runners and walkers headed out to the turnaround. I wanted each of them to know that I appreciated them all for participating. I couldn’t have done this without their support, and our men and women needed each of them to continue to find ways to support and encourage our veterans each and every day. It was also great to see a group of Marine veterans who were wearing shirts with their squadron logos on them from when they served carrying the American flag and Marine Corps flag during the entire run.
As we approached the last couple of turns before the finish line, I saw Tiffany at an intersection taking photos of the runners. She took so many beautiful photos along the run, and we wanted to make sure everyone had memories of this day. As we ran up, she had a surprised look on her face and I just threw my hands in the air.
“Well, it is a race!” I said, with a smirk on my face.
Aaron and I had set our sights on a couple of runners we wanted to catch, and of course he wasn’t going to let me slow down once I decided to go, so we pushed the pace even harder at the finish. Passing the last couple of runners, we threw our hands in the air as we crossed the finish line. The clock read 22 minutes, 44 seconds, meaning I had just knocked out the 5K with a 7:19 pace, which was good enough for second place in my age group. It was not my fastest 5K, but considering the circumstances, I wasn’t going to be upset with myself.
“Nice run,” Aaron said as we made our way back to the finish line to greet the incoming runners.
“I couldn’t help myself,” I said, smiling back at him. It felt so good to get out and push it for once. I felt so alive at the end, and it helped break up the monotony of what I had been doing the past 90 days.
I was proud of everyone who crossed the finish line and was honored to be able to hand out the awards and thank the crowd once again for participating in a great event and fundraiser. It’s a race I certainly want to build upon each year, and I am looking forward to making it an annual event for my hometown. Burnsville mayor Paul Bragg then presented me with a key to the city before we had to head out with the kids to drive up to Jane Lew to start my real run for the day.
Giving Thanks
We pulled into Jane Lew right at noon, where a group of community members had gathered at the Jane Lew Veterans Memorial, my starting point for the day. I spoke briefly to them about my mission and how things had gone so far, and expressed my thanks to all of the veterans in attendance.
The temperature was starting to really soar and having run so hard during the 5K, I was feeling a bit out of sorts when I began my run at 12:30 p.m. It was also difficult mentally because usually by this time I was finished running for the day, and here I was just getting started. After logging about 10 miles, I had to stop on the side of the road and drink all four of my 8-ounce bottles of Gatorade. My head was pounding from the heat and the effort I had put out earlier in the day. Tiff drove by and I waved her down so I could refuel my body and mind. When I headed back out, I received some much-needed encouragement when a number of people driving past cheered me on or said how proud the state of West Virginia was of me. Good things like that always happened when I needed it most.
Three hours after heading down the road we arrived at the Clarksburg VA Medical Center, where we had one of the most incredible experiences of the trip. When we set off on the journey, my wife and I knew the types of people we would encounter and we had a personal appreciation for the sacrifices they made. Our children, however, hadn’t seen first-hand what so many of these men and women endure when they return home from serving in the military. We made every effort to involve our kids in Veterans Day parades and local events that honor our military, instilling in them the importance of patriotism. But being 12 and 10, they didn’t fully grasp the sacrifices and circumstances these people went through on a daily basis. We wanted them to experience this part with us so that they could develop a greater appreciation for the men and women who serve this country.
> As we made our way from room to room, introducing ourselves to each patient, laughter and tears were shed not only by the veterans we encountered, but by my family as well. Hearing the stories of their service, their struggles and of the things they deal with now made this whole adventure really sink in for all of us. Some had no family to go home to. Others couldn’t wait to get home to loved ones. Our kids said, “Thank you for your service” to each person we met, and listened intently to the stories they shared.
We were all tired, but could have listened all day to their tales. It was definitely 90 minutes well spent and gave me the energy I needed to finish the final 11 miles of the day. We arrived in Charles Point around 7 p.m. as the sun was dropping below the horizon, bringing to a close one of the longest but most rewarding days of our trip.
Mountaineer Pride
Day 91 started off foggy, both in and out of my head. The previous day had been one of the longest running days since the first week when I walked due to the shin injury. It had all been worth it, but I was tired. I had hoped other runners would join me that day to help clear my head and keep me moving.
Arriving at the starting point at 7 a.m., I took off with five other runners. Each of the runners had followed me across America on my website and couldn’t wait to join me for a small portion of my run. I told them I needed them more than they needed me. Because most of them were accomplished runners, I immediately apologized for the slowness of the pace I would run, but they all told me to not worry about it. As usual, though, I picked up the pace when others were with me.
We picked up a police escort about six miles in, and knocked the first 9.5 miles out in around 90 minutes, when the second wave of runners joined me. Aaron and Sandy joined me, as did the mayor of Fairmont, Bill Burdick, who presented me with a certificate proclaiming it to be “Jamie Summerlin Appreciation Day.” He then joined us to run through Fairmont, escorted again by the city police. Pulling into the McDonald’s parking lot to refuel in the RV, we were greeted by members of the local VFW who came out to show their support.
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