A derecho, which is a strong and sustained straight-line windstorm along with heavy rain, barreled through the area, causing massive damage in several states. We were right in the path of it, and we would see first-hand the damage caused during the next few days. As I rolled into Martinsburg, we saw trees and power lines down in the roads, devastating destruction to homes, windows knocked out of storefronts and brick facades crumbled on the sidewalks. Tiffany had to take a few detours to get around downed power lines and trees in the road. Several roads were either closed or blocked due to the incredible damage from the storm.
Many people sent us messages on social media checking to see if we were OK, but we couldn’t call or text because the cell towers in the area weren’t working. Tiff was able to post a message online to let people know we were OK and that the tracker would come back online as soon as cell service was restored. As I made my way to Harpers Ferry, every little neighborhood and town I passed through had a widespread loss of power and damage to homes and businesses.
“I’m glad we pulled the awning in last night,” Tiff said. It was just one of the many tangible times that we knew God was protecting us and sheltering us from harm.
Freedom Run
Having no athletic sponsors on board meant that all costs for my clothing, shoes, and nutrients would be out of my own pocket. I figured I would need 10 pairs of shoes to make it across the country, and the cost of those alone was around $1,000. A mutual friend introduced me to Dr. Mark Cucuzzella, a Lieutenant Colonel in the U.S. Air Force Reserves who owns a shoe store in Shepherdstown, West Virginia, called Two Rivers Treads. Mark promised that if I wasn’t able to get my shoes donated from the manufacturer, he would take care of me. Mark is a huge advocate of minimalist and barefoot running and did his best to convert me, but I told him that my current shoe had worked for me for the past 2 1/2 years and I wasn’t going to change things up just before the run. A few days before we left for Oregon, a FedEx truck pulled up to our house and delivered 10 pairs of my preferred running shoes compliments of Mark and Two Rivers Treads. Having made the trip without any blisters or black toenails, I considered his contribution a major factor in the success of my run.
When I arrived in Harpers Ferry, a few members of his staff scheduled a group run for us that evening, giving me the opportunity to share a bit of my journey. We parked behind Mark’s office, where the power was out in that neighborhood. We later learned that nearly five million customers lost power due to the derecho. It was great to finally meet Mark in person when he stopped by the RV and dropped off a box full of Power Bars and a technical running shirt from the Freedom’s Run Marathon that he directs every year. He took us to downtown Harpers Ferry, where they had electricity, for some pizza and ice cream, then dropped us back off at the RV so I could get changed and ready to go run with the group that evening.
Paul Koczera, the assistant manager at Two Rivers Treads, picked Tiffany and me up, while mom and the kids remained in the RV, to take us to Private Quinn’s Pub, where we met the group for a short run over the Potomac River and back. We were also joined by a young veteran who had been following my run and wanted to come along. He didn’t have time to change his clothes after work, showing up in jeans and a T-shirt. He shared a little bit about the things he had been dealing with since being medically discharged from the Army. As we ran, he described the pain in his back that he dealt with every day, but he didn’t let that keep him from coming out to be a part of this journey in support of fellow veterans who were injured even worse. It was a very humbling moment to see him brushing his back pain aside in order to honor fellow veterans.
Based on the storm damage that we had seen that day, and knowing I would be running about 20 miles on the historic Chesapeake & Ohio (C&O) Canal trail the following day, I anticipated a long, slow day of running. Little did I know what was ahead.
Branches of Government
“Forty-eight hours from now, I will be completing my initial mission, on target and on time.” That was the first thought that entered my mind when I woke up the following morning. It had been 2,352 hours since I pulled my wet feet from the Pacific Ocean and slipped my running shoes on. I had no clue what obstacles awaited me, but I knew I was ready for any challenges that were thrown my way. Running into our nation’s capital seemed like only a dream a few months ago, but now I was less than 100 miles away.
Learning that power was out for millions of customers and hearing news reports of so much widespread damage, we felt very fortunate to have escaped any real damage ourselves. The wrap advertising our run on the RV had a few long scratches from broken tree branches hanging low along the road. But because of the derecho, the run from Harpers Ferry to just west of Germantown, Maryland, proved to be more like one of my trail runs during my training than anything I had experienced during the entire journey.
I started down the C&O Canal trail with Paul and Doug, two runners from the night before at Private Quinn’s Pub. When we met at 6:30 a.m. the heat was already scorching, but we knew the first 18 miles would have plenty of shade as we ran on the trail. The trail was beautiful and I really enjoyed talking with fellow distance runners about the nuances of the sport because I always gained more knowledge and tips. I learned about the vast array of diets and nutritional aids that people swear by, the types of running gear they prefer and the other sports they participate in to stay in shape. I always told people who asked me what my secret was that I had no secret. I was still a baby at this running thing. I just enjoyed absorbing as much knowledge as possible in order to be the best runner I could be.
We were about two miles down the trail when we came to a sudden stop. A massive tree was lying directly in our path and it wasn’t just a trunk that we could hop over and continue on our way. So one after another we crawled through the web of tree branches, being careful to avoid any poison ivy that was wrapped around them. Our pace picked up again, but once again it literally slowed to a crawl just a few thousand feet away when we came upon more trees blocking the trail. This time we met other runners coming through the trees from the other side.
“I’ve been running these trails for many years,” said one of the ladies, “and I have never seen it this bad.”
We encountered more runners along the way, and each time we would swap warnings about what obstacles were ahead. We even came across a few bicyclists who were carrying their bikes through the trees. It almost felt like an obstacle course at boot camp as we figured out the best way to get under, around and sometimes up and over the downed trees. What should have been a leisurely jog turned into a physically exhausting and frustrating off-road hike.
I was glad to have Paul and Doug join me on the trail. It was interesting to learn that we had participated in a few of the same races in the past. After we had run about 13 miles and sharpened our tree-climbing skills, we parted ways but knew we would probably cross paths again during an upcoming race. I am very grateful for the friendships I developed during this trip and look forward to continuing to build those relationships in the future.
When I met up with the family for an aid stop, the RV was trapped. Tiffany had parked in an area that was separated from the road by a railroad crossing. As luck would have it, the train that came through the area was stopped on the tracks, preventing the RV from getting back on the road. Our friends Scott and Margie Payne and their children, as well as Loren and Bridget Jordan and their kids, were on the other side of the tracks, blocked from entering the parking lot. I hung around for about 15 minutes but didn’t want to sit idly in the heat very long, so I headed on down the trail. Tiff texted me 30 minutes later to let me know they were finally able to cross the railroad tracks and get on the road again. When we met up a bit farther along, I was crossing over the Monocacy Aqueduct. Looking downstream from the crossing, I could see where the Monocacy River merged with the Potomac, thinking about how nice it would be to jump in the river at that very moment.
The rest of the day I was off the trails and back on t
he pavement with no shade to protect me from the 100-degree temperature. I convinced myself that I only had a few more days of running, so I would stop worrying about the weather. “One foot in front of the other, positive forward motion,” I kept saying to myself. I also went back to my old trick of saying my ABCs to myself, which I hadn’t done since Oregon. As long as I could get through all 26 letters without a hiccup, I felt like mentally I was still OK.
As I headed toward the finish of my run that day, I saw a car driving toward me slowly, and as it approached me, they blew their horn and yelled, “Go Jamie, go!” I had no idea who it was, but it turned out to be a couple that lived in the DC area who had been following my journey since the beginning. They were graduates of WVU and had spent many years in Morgantown, and just wanted to congratulate me on a successful run. As they were talking, the RV and Scott and Margie pulled up, with their children and ours packed into their vehicle, which was much cooler than the RV.
“We have no power or air conditioning at my mom’s house,” Margie said, “but we will have lots of food for you to eat tonight.”
“You had me at food,” I responded. “Just don’t make me climb any more trees to get to it.”
Margie’s mom, Peggy, fixed us a wonderful meal that night, loading me up with all kinds of carbs and protein. One thing about this trip was that I was never malnourished at any point. I literally could recall three times during the whole trip when my stomach growled due to hunger, and that was my own fault when it happened. Tiff made sure I always had plenty of food during my runs, and we had so many great people provide many meals for our family.
The next couple of days would be draining, not only physically, but also emotionally. I was looking forward to standing in front of the Marine Corps Memorial in less than 24 hours. I was also looking forward to more family joining me, Tiff, the kids and my mom. Tiff’s mom and stepdad were driving from Oregon with our dog, Emmie, to Morgantown to drop her off at her doggie daycare and then continue on to Washington DC to meet us. My stepdad was also preparing to join us, especially since he lived where they lost power (meaning there was no more salvageable food to eat in the refrigerator) and it was going to be a few more days until the area had power restored.
Semper Fi
Ever since our original plans for the finish changed from Baltimore to Annapolis, I was very excited for Day 99. In my mind, running into Washington DC and finishing at the U.S. Marine Corps War Memorial, staring at the five Marines and one Navy corpsman raising that flag over Iwo Jima, could not have been a more fitting ending to the day. It is easily the most recognizable statue to Marines and it symbolizes the true brotherhood and support we have for one another.
Tiffany and I knew we would have to communicate via phone much more often this day than any other time on the road. Not only was driving a 31-foot RV through the streets of Washington DC while trying to track me down going to be challenging, but there were still road closures and detours due to the storm damage. With all of the downed tree limbs and power lines, it made for a dangerous run and drive. At least twice I stepped over a downed limb, only to find a power line lying beside of it as well. Out west I had to worry about snakes slithering under my feet; now I had to be careful not to step on any power lines.
As I was making my way toward downtown, my original route was supposed to have me turn off of Route 190 onto Persimmon Tree Road, taking me toward the Potomac River so I could enjoy the beautiful view the trail provides. As I approached the intersection, I realized the Department of Highways had beaten me to the scene.
ROAD CLOSED TO ALL BUT LOCAL TRAFFIC
I called Tiff to let her know that we would have to change plans. I continued running down Route 190 while plugging the new route into my map, and was pleasantly surprised. Instead of having 12.9 miles to go, I was left with 12.5 miles. Even though I would miss running along the Potomac and would instead be running through congested traffic, I wasn’t going to complain about the shorter distance.
The next 10 miles into DC flew by. Much later when I looked back at the online street view of the path I ran, I can remember passing many of the buildings along the route, but in that moment, everything was a blur. I was so excited to get to the Iwo Jima Memorial that I didn’t pay much attention to the eclectic buildings and old-town charm that make the DC area so unique. I did see some devastating storm damage to some beautiful homes as I ran through several neighborhoods, but reaching the finish that day was really all that was on my mind.
As I ran down the cobblestone of 35th Street toward the Francis Scott Key Memorial, I could see the Potomac River in front of me. I thought my heart was going to pound through my chest, not because of exertion but because of excitement. I had just one more mile to go until I stood before one of the most significant milestones of the run.
Playing Frogger as I crossed M Street onto the Key Bridge, I was singing the Marine Corps hymn in my mind, and probably garnered a few strange looks from people I passed on the bridge as I’m sure those verses escaped my lips a few times.
“From the Halls of Montezuma,
To the shores of Tripoli;
We fight our country’s battles,
In the air, on land, and sea…”
Making my way up the last hill of the day on N Lynn Street, I passed a news reporter getting into his vehicle with a video camera.
“Are you looking for a story?” I asked. “I’m finishing up Day 99 of my run across America to honor our veterans. I’ll be down at the Marine Corps Memorial in two minutes.”
He smiled at me as he got in his truck. I never saw him again.
The RV was in the parking lot facing the U.S. Marine Corps War Memorial, with the Washington Monument and Capitol building off in the distance. The view could not have been more perfect that day. As I approached the RV, I did so slowly, taking in every step toward that beautiful sight. Everyone was standing outside of the RV cheering as I walked up, tears already in all of our eyes. Tiff asked me to come inside to get a drink first. She knew that because of the heat, I wasn’t thinking clearly at that point. Once I cooled off a bit, we headed down to the Memorial, and as I approached, as I did with every flag I have ever run past, I threw a sharp salute and stood at full attention for a few seconds. As I was standing at the base, with tears of joy flowing, a small boy, maybe 4 years old, ran up in front of me smiling and yelled, “Hi!”
“Hello young man,” I said, taken back a bit.
Then I saw someone walking up toward me from the left out of the corner of my eye, and I stood there in complete disbelief at the sight of Bart Ingleston. We spent a few years stationed together at Marine Corps Air Station Beaufort in South Carolina, and he arrived in Iwakuni, Japan, about three weeks after I did to serve his final year in the Marine Corps. We had always been very close friends, and while we had stayed in touch over the years, it had been almost 13 years since I had seen him. We hugged like brothers who hadn’t seen each other in years, and neither one of us could hold back the emotion of the moment. His son Liam was the young boy who had run up to me, but, of course, I had no clue who he was.
I was brought to tears again a few moments later after I met David Moust, who had been following my progress online and wanted to meet me. I cried and hung onto every syllable as David shared the heartbreaking story of his cousin, who recently served in the Middle East. While inspecting a building, David’s cousin and his cousin’s platoon sergeant were sent flying over the roof of the building when an improvised explosive device (IED) went off. The platoon sergeant died in the explosion and David’s cousin lost three limbs.
“I am so glad you are doing this for them,” David said. “You may not ever meet my cousin, but you are making a difference in his life. What you are doing is very important to a lot of people, and they appreciate the respect you are helping to bring to them. You’re doing a good thing, Jamie. Keep moving forward.”
“I intend to do just that,” I said, choking up. “We’re not done yet.”
Whatever it Takes
Back in Indiana, Tiffany and I talked about how we wanted to be well-rested for the final day of the run as well as the next two days since we would be marching in the Fourth of July parade in Annapolis and then I would be heading out for my big 100-mile, 24-hour run to the Atlantic. She made a few phone calls then to nail down our stay in the DC area. With both sets of our parents joining us, we needed to make sure the rooms were nice and comfortable, so after an extensive search online, she called the Doubletree by Hilton Hotel in Annapolis. She spoke to the manager, who became very excited about what we were doing. He had only two questions for Tiffany: “How long are you staying and how many rooms do you need?”
“We’ll need two rooms for the first night and three rooms for the next two nights, if possible,” she replied.
“No problem,” he responded. “By the way, because of what your husband is doing, your stay is on us.”
“All three rooms?” Tiff asked, having learned that she needed to confirm every organizational detail.
“All three rooms,” he assured her. “We’re happy to do it.”
After the emotional time at the U.S. Marine Corps War Memorial, we traveled to the hotel to clean up and spend some time with Bart, his wife, Hannah, and Liam. As we headed back to our room after a good dinner at Gordon Biersch Brewery I feared I would have difficulty sleeping. I was experiencing the same butterflies in my stomach that I typically experience the night before a big race. But I think the exhaustion and emotions of the day really wiped me out and I ended up sleeping great.
I was refreshed and ready when we pulled out of the parking lot at 4:52 a.m. on July 3 to start Day 100. Daylight was starting to break as we pulled into the parking lot at the Marine Corps War Memorial. Bart rode with us in the RV from the hotel and we were joined at the Memorial by Army Captain Dave Rodriguez, who was an old friend of mine from West Virginia. He was one of the first people I called when I came up with the idea of running across America and it was a true honor to have him there with us to start off the final day. Dave had knee surgery a couple of years earlier and since then he hadn’t attempted to run any considerable distance, but he was going to give it a go.
Freedom Run Page 24