Freedom Run

by Jamie Summerlin

  “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, my friend,” he said. “I’m just honored to be here.”>

  “Dave,” I responded, “the honor is all mine. Thanks so much for being here, representing your unit and the soldiers you serve with. And don’t worry, I’ll take it slow for you,” I said with a sly grin.

  We left at 6:05 a.m., heading south past the Arlington Cemetery. As we ran past, all three of us offered a crisp salute in reverence to those who had lost their lives. The only thing breaking the silence was the pitter patter of our feet slapping the pavement as we ran in unison. We were all experiencing similar feelings, and it was good to be in step with one another on so many levels.

  When we were crossing the Arlington Memorial Bridge and headed toward the Lincoln Memorial, Bart said, “I’ve never been to Washington DC until this trip.”

  “What?” Dave and I responded at the same time.

  “This is a first for me,” Bart continued. “I’m going to take as much of this in as I can. My family and I will come down here later today, so we don’t have to spend much time checking everything out, but I’d like to take in as much as possible.”

  “We’ll gladly be your tour guides for the next few miles,” I said.

  We stopped at the Three Soldiers Statue, then made our way to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. We took our time here, each brushing our hand against the wall as we walked by. Besides the Marine Corps War Memorial, I don’t think there is a monument in the area that moves me as much as the Vietnam wall. During my trek across the country, I saw so many small veterans memorials honoring the names of those who served in those local communities. Now to see all of those names and many more all in one location really made me aware of how many lives were tragically lost in that war.

  Unfortunately, the reflecting pool at the National Mall was empty due to construction.

  “Forrest Gump gave a speech here once,” Dave said, cracking up at his own sharp wit.

  “You’re the first person to mention his name to me during this run,” I said sarcastically. In reality, I heard the comparison and the shouts of, “run, Forrest, run!” just about every day, but it was funny now standing in the scene from the movie.

  As we made our way to the World War II Memorial, I talked about how I had met a number of World War II vets during the run, including some Rosie Riveters. I couldn’t help but reflect on all of the amazing people I had encountered on this journey, and how each of their stories made a lifelong impact on me. We were a better country because of so many of their sacrifices and service.

  Tiffany was waiting for us as we ran up to the Washington Monument. By the time we got there, we were all soaked with sweat, and neither Dave nor Bart could believe we had run through the area of monuments. Besides making a few stops for photos and to pay our respects, we had put down a pretty good pace but everyone still felt really good. I told them our next scheduled stop was at Lincoln Park, and verified that they wanted to continue with me.

  “Let’s keep moving,” they both responded.

  We made our way up to the Capitol building and then ran to Lincoln Park, seemingly catching every green light for pedestrian traffic along the way, which helped us maintain a steady pace. The time and miles flew that morning, and it was great catching up with two good friends. Bart was going to take the Subway back from Lincoln Park to meet up with his wife, and Dave was going to ride out the whole day with us. I knew I’d miss not having Bart with me the rest of the day, but I was excited that he was going to be able to tour the nation’s capital with his family for the first time. It truly is a remarkable city and offers a never-ending supply of our country’s rich heritage.

  With the final day being a 36-mile finish to the Chesapeake Bay, and knowing I needed to be at the U.S. Naval Academy around 3:30 p.m., once Bart left and Dave hopped into the RV to ride with the family, I picked up the pace. I could have spent all day taking photos and running around DC, but I knew I had to stay on schedule. I would love to go back sometime and take a “running tour” of the city.

  One of the coolest parts of the trip for my family was the people they had a chance to meet. Tiffany and the crew had many experiences in which people would stop by and share stories, and that day was no exception. Dave thought it was the coolest thing to have people approach them in the RV and ask questions, even donating money at times.

  “It happens all the time,” my kids told him. “Daddy’s famous. And crazy.”

  Since it was once again another hot day and I had picked up the pace, Tiffany made sure I was consuming plenty of fluids during the aid stops. As I headed out of town and north toward Annapolis, there were no pedestrian paths so I was running on four- and six-lane roads. I was just waiting for a cop to pull over and ask what I was doing. I did my best to make smart decisions on the roads, not wanting to take any risks and die on the last day of the run!

  Around 11 a.m. Tiff texted me to let me know I would be joined shortly by some Air Force personnel from Fort Meade. At my next stop, four men and a woman were in their blue and white Air Force PT gear, hanging out by the RV ready to run. They presented me with an Air Force coin and blue and gold towels that read, “Whatever it Takes.”

  “Truer words were never spoken,” I said to them as they gave the items to me. “I’m stubborn as a mule, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to finish this. Let’s roll.”

  We logged a few miles together and even though the heat was oppressive, we stuck together. When one or two started to tire and fall back, we all slowed up a little so that we could continue to run as a team. It meant the world to me to have them out there, and it again was an opportunity to just say thank you.

  Turning left on Riva Road, I had the chance to enjoy some beautiful scenery as I approached Annapolis. As I crossed the South River Bridge, I had an immediate flashback to the first day of my run as I ran across the Cape Arago Highway Bridge in Charleston, Oregon. The makeup of the bridge and scenery looked like it had almost been duplicated here. Having that flashback caused me to reflect on how far I had come in 100 days, not only distance-wise, but mentally as well. I was truly a different person, and it felt good.

  A Special Detour

  Mike Brown and Ned Hazlett, two retired officers from the Air Force and Navy, respectively, had organized my arrival at the Naval Academy a few weeks prior to our arrival. They were WVU grads who followed my journey and wanted to make sure our welcoming party was a good one. Mike also set up a little detour for me near the end of my run that day.

  I ran up to the entrance of the Doubletree Hotel, where Tiff had parked the RV and was waiting for me to arrive. Her mom and stepdad had arrived, and my cousin Barbara Pyle met us there with her kids. Dave stepped out of the RV and said he was going to run the rest of the way with me, so we made our way down West Street towards the Academy. Mike asked me to take a slight detour on Route 435 before we got to the Academy. We ran up to the front of the Navy-Marine Corps Memorial Stadium, where he was waiting with a bag full of Marine Corps gear for me.

  “Let’s go for a little run,” he said.

  With the RV parked near the entrance of the football stadium, Mike led me, Dave and Nick through the gates and allowed us to take a victory loop around the football field. It was incredible having the privilege of not only being there, but running on the field with my son by my side.

  Nick wanted to join me for the last leg of my run to the Academy, and there was no way I was going to tell him no.

  “Thank you for being a part of this journey with me, son,” I said as we ran stride for stride through the intense heat.

  “I think it’s awesome that you did this, dad,” he replied. It was one of the proudest moments of my life.

  We arrived at the entrance to the Academy, where Ned was waiting for us. Tiff and the rest of the family had already been given access to the docks, so Ned just needed to get us through the gate so we could run to the finish.

  “I’ve done it. I’ve really done it,” I kept repeat
ing to myself as we entered the Academy. We turned the corner on King George Street and headed to the finish line on Turner Joy Road. A crowd of Naval cadets, sailors and Marines were gathered on both sides of the road, forming a gauntlet of encouragement and creating a path for me to run through as they cheered for Nick and me. We ran down the cement stairs to the water’s edge, where one of the men standing there looked at me and said, “Are you going to jump in?”

  SPLASH!

  SPLASH!

  Nick jumped in right behind me. We gave each other a high five, celebrating the accomplishment. As I climbed out of the bay, I could hardly believe I was standing there, wet from head to toe, in front of so many servicemen and women at the finish line. It was then that the raw emotion of everything we had just accomplished came out.

  “I did this for each one of you,” I told the crowd. “My hope and prayer is that none of you ever have to walk through the doors of any of the organizations that we are supporting on this journey, but if you do, just know that their door will always be open.”

  I took the time to shake hands and pose for photos with each and every person there, thanking them for being there and for serving our country. I reminded them all that this run was not about me; it was for each one of them. What started out as a journey to honor and support our wounded veterans grew into something so much more. I wanted all service members, whether a veteran or an active member, to know that they were appreciated.

  After spending some time there with everyone, and drying off, we hopped back into the RV. It was exhilarating to think about what we just completed, yet I was even more excited about what lay ahead. I still had a “little” run to go on July 5. And as I told everyone at the Naval Academy, our mission didn’t end when my son and I jumped into the Chesapeake Bay. I couldn’t wait to build upon what we had just accomplished.

  Chapter 16: What’s 100 More?

  For the first time in more than three months, I didn’t have to wake up before sunrise and head out to run 35 miles when I climbed out of bed on the morning of July 4, 2012. But instead of waking with a smile and a sense of euphoria about completing my initial mission, I was cranky and remained in a foul mood the entire morning. Even though we were celebrating Independence Day and my trans-American run, I was in no mood to party. The feelings I told myself I wouldn’t experience at the end of the run surfaced anyway, hitting me like a runaway train. I was depressed, confused and as strange as it may seem, I had a strong urge to run.

  I knew we had a full day of events planned and I had the 100-mile run to look forward to the following day, but I still was left asking myself, “Now what?” Being out of the routine that I had stuck to so rigorously for the past three-plus months just made me feel very uncomfortable. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was just a preview of the emotions I would become overwhelmed by when I returned home.

  I knew, however, that I needed to get my mind right because the day would provide me with an awesome opportunity to spread the news about the mission of my run. Fox News Channel called us the previous day to schedule a live interview with me on their midday “Happening Now” program with Arthel Neville. After all of the pre-run efforts and attempts during the past 100 days to catch the national media’s attention, we finally had our opportunity. I knew I couldn’t blow that chance, so I had to snap out of my funk.

  Fox News sent a car to our hotel at 10 a.m. to drive Tiffany and me to their studio in Washington, DC. The driver did a great job of making me feel comfortable by not only giving me tips for the interview, but also cracking jokes to lighten the mood. When we arrived, we were escorted to the green room, where a handful of other on-air guests were also waiting. Among them were columnist Mary Katharine Ham, journalist Juan Williams and retired U.S. Army Major General Bob Scales, who were all regular guests on Fox News.

  After having the shine removed from my forehead, we were taken to a small interview room that contained only a remote-operated camera, small TV monitor to my left showing the live feed, flatscreen TV as a backdrop and a chair off to my right for Tiffany. It was a bit odd to talk to a camera instead of directly to a person standing in the room, but at this point I had done so many interviews with local radio, TV and newspaper reporters that I was comfortable and the responses I gave to questions were things I had repeated countless times. Overall, I was happy with how the interview went, although I neglected to give the URL for my website where people could donate because I thought it would appear in a graphic along with my name during the interview.

  After returning to our hotel, we met the rest of the family for lunch in the hotel restaurant. I was sipping on a Sierra Mist and nibbling on my food when Tiffany looked over at me and said, “You don’t look good.”

  “I don’t feel well,” I said. “I think I just need to go back to the room and lie down.”

  I suspect it was being out of the routine of not only running but eating every hour that had left me in this funk. Whatever it was, when I woke up from my nap I was refreshed and had a new outlook on the remainder of the day. It was only the second nap I had taken since we began our journey.

  Mike Brown had invited us all over to his home that afternoon, where we enjoyed a great meal. He had recorded my interview on Fox News, so we were able to watch it and enjoy my three minutes of fame. He also said he would allow us to use his driveway to wash our RV before the parade. As we stepped outside to wash the RV, I walked around the corner and was greeted by two very familiar faces. Rusty Walker and Jim Wilson, my good friends from back home that I had spoken to often on this journey by phone, were standing there with the biggest grins I have ever seen.

  “We came to help you wash the RV,” they said. They had made the trek over from Martinsburg, West Virginia, just to let me know how proud they were of me and to wish me well on the final leg of my run.

  “Would you guys mind washing my feet too?” I asked.

  “Not after you just ran across America, man, sorry.”

  Freedom Parade

  My mom and kids walked along with me during the 90-minute parade while Tiffany drove the RV. The crowd was absolutely phenomenal. The parade snaked through the historic downtown roads, and every time we turned a corner we’d see a mass of people lined up 10 deep on both sides of the road. I saw several familiar faces in the crowd and it was a rush of adrenaline to have so many people cheer for us. I got a good laugh several times when people would ask me, “When are you starting your run?”

  “I just finished yesterday,” I’d respond, “and tomorrow I’m doing a 100-mile, 24-hour run to Rehoboth Beach.”

  The parade went well, but the generator quit working in the RV, which meant there was no air conditioning other than up front in the driver’s cabin. We suspected it overheated because Tiff had to drive so slowly in the parade, but we were in store for more trouble with the generator later.

  We also had trouble trying to maneuver out of traffic after the parade. Tiffany had to drive around Church Circle in historic Annapolis and with cars parked on both sides of the circle, we literally had about one inch between each side of our RV and the parked cars. I walked in front, guiding Tiffany, a man who rode in the motorcycle stunt group in the parade walked behind the RV and the rest of the family in the RV was as quiet as a church mouse as Tiffany, frustrated and hot, slowly but masterfully squeezed the RV through the street.

  It was getting late in the evening and I knew I had to get as much rest as possible for the final 100 miles early the next morning. As my mind turned from the Independence Day activities to the 100-mile run, I got more and more excited and energized. It may seem strange that I was anxious to run those 100 miles, but no ultramarathon runner goes into a 100-mile run dreading it. They go into it thinking, “This is going to be awesome!”

  I was also getting myself in a different frame of mind because this final 100 miles was for me. While my focus the previous 3,352 miles had been on others, running these 100 miles to the Atlantic Ocean, and doing it in less than 24 hours, wa
s all personal. I didn’t want to look back 20 years from now and regret being so close but not going all the way to the coast. I wanted to be on the prestigious list of true coast-to-coast runners.

  100 Miles, 100 Degrees

  When I woke up early on July 5, my energy level was as high as it had been during the entire journey. Part of that is because I finally enjoyed a rest day, but I know I was also riding a wave of adrenaline. I went about my customary routine of applying lotion and eating two chocolate fudge Pop-Tarts and then grabbed my No. 3 pair of running shoes. The last few weeks of the run I paid particularly close attention to which pair of shoes felt the most comfortable. Even though they had become worn at the same rate, pair No. 3 just felt better, so those are the ones I slipped onto my feet, which is where they remained for the next 100 miles.

  We left the hotel at 5:13 a.m. and by 5:32 a.m. I was off and running. And it was already 82 degrees! I actually could have made it from Annapolis to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, in 76 miles, but I wanted to stick with the ‘100’ theme of 100 days and now running 100 miles, so our route would take me a bit south and then I would run north along the coast of the Atlantic Ocean to get to the finish.

  I had a 4.5-mile route to get from the U.S. Naval Academy to the edge of Sandy Pointe State Park on the west side of the Chesapeake Bay. It cost us $16 for Tiffany to be able to drive the RV into the park to pick me up. From there I hopped into the RV to drive across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Pedestrians are not allowed on that road, and even if it wasn’t against the law it wouldn’t be safe because there’s no shoulder for pedestrians and cars and wind would be whipping past me at 70 miles per hour. We tried to get clearance or an escort from the Annapolis police to run across the bridge, but it didn’t work out. But considering I was running 24 more miles than if I would have taken the most direct route to the Atlantic Ocean, I knew that would more than make up for the four miles on the bridge.