Freedom Run Read online

  After creating an initial route, Tiffany scoured blogs about areas of the trip about which we were a little tentative. She took into consideration the lack of civilization, terrain, elevation changes and other things when refining the course. For instance, on the initial route there was a stretch from Nevada into Utah on Jungo Road. The more Tiffany researched that section, the more she realized we had to find a different route. That path included sharp volcanic rock and it was suggested that trail motorbikes were the preferred mode of transportation. No way was I going to ask my wife, a motorhome newbie, to drive a 31-foot beast on roads on which we wouldn’t be comfortable driving a standard sedan.

  Tiffany admitted she often felt clueless when refining the course. And in reality, the adjustments continued throughout the journey all the way up to the final couple of weeks of the trip. As soon as we felt like she had a solid route planned, Tiffany placed calls to each of the Transportation Authorities in the 15 (at that time) states in which I was going to run. This process was a frustrating one for my wife. There was so much red tape to cut through with some states and she constantly had to reach out to state employees time and time again just to get a response. And when she did speak with someone, they often made us feel like lunatics that I was even attempting to run across America.

  Mapping Out America

  My Thanks to the Captain’s Momma

  by Tiffany Summerlin

  As I planned and plotted the route Jamie would be running, there were quite a few snags and some irritating moments. The irony of the “United” part of the United States is never more apparent than when dealing with each state’s Department of Transportation. Assuming each state follows a similar set of rules was my first bang into the sliding glass door that I thought was open. I spent hours calling, emailing, filling out contact forms and mailing permit requests, yet I still felt a little nervous about seeing blue flashing lights somewhere along our trip and learning that Jamie wasn’t allowed to legally run on a road we had chosen.

  My faith in the system was restored momentarily after talking to Captain Gaylon Grippin with the Colorado State Police. The more we talked about our plans for the run, the more help he offered. He seemed genuinely excited about our journey and the mission. He sent me an email with tips on how to navigate the area we would be going through in Colorado and really went out of his way to help us out. I love it when people do that. Why doesn’t that happen more often? I’ll just think the best of people and assume their mommas didn’t teach them right!

  After finalizing the route and receiving clearance from the various states to run on their roads, Tiffany had to come up with a tentative but flexible plan of staying at RV parks, locating grocery stores and laundry facilities and identifying places to take the kids for fun so that they weren’t cooped up inside the motorhome all day every day. It was a little bit overwhelming, to say the least. My wife and I often joked that I had the easiest job by doing the running. The details and arrangements necessary to make this epic journey go off without a glitch was a mental marathon for her.

  RV Schooled

  Since we wanted our children to be a part of this amazing experience, we had several meetings with their teachers and the county school system administration. Everyone was in support not only of the trip, but of the children coming along. In fact, one of the reasons the superintendent, Frank Devono, was so on board with the run was because his son was in the military and had been deployed overseas several times. He felt it was a great opportunity for our children to visit different parts of the country and see first-hand the reason why I was motivated to run across the country to honor our nation’s veterans.

  My daughter was in fourth grade and her teacher, Mrs. Duley, decided to incorporate as much of our journey as possible into the class curriculum, utilizing information on our travels in geography lessons and my running mileage totals in mathematics. While we were on the run, they even created a “Where’s Jamie? Tuesdays” lesson. Shayna had a great time using Skype with her classmates and it was fun to show them the view of our current location.

  My son was in sixth grade and prior to our departure I got the opportunity to speak to his class and answer questions from the students. One of the first questions I received was, “Are you going to shower during the run?”

  “We will be staying in an RV, so I’ll either shower or I’ll end up sleeping outside,” I answered.

  Other students asked if I would sleep at all during the 100 days, or how much food I could eat during the run. I said that I could eat four pizzas and two dozen donuts every day and I would still be able to burn off those calories during my daily runs. Someone later calculated that I could drink 247 sodas a week without gaining weight based on the calories I burned. Not that I would ever want to attempt that.

  One of the last questions I was asked was, “What do you do if you take off running and your wife tells you that you are going the wrong way?”

  “You’re not married yet are you? That happens a whole lot more often than you think.” That retort drew a chuckle from the teachers in attendance.

  Nicholas and Shayna did have to do daily journal entries as the main requirement of them being allowed to miss the last several weeks of school. We also worked with their teachers to get workbooks and lesson plans so Tiffany could essentially “RV school” them so that they wouldn’t fall behind their peers academically. Everyone was really excited about the opportunity to utilize technology such as Skype to stay in touch with us on the road, and we knew it would be a good way to help keep the kids connected to their classmates back home.

  Spreading the Word

  My son’s class wasn’t my only public speaking opportunity. As the countdown to the run neared, I was contacted by several media organizations and was also afforded the opportunity to speak at some veterans’ facilities and functions.

  One engagement in particular really affected me, providing me with an uplifting moment and an “aha” moment. I was a last-minute invitee to speak at the West Virginia Veterans of Foreign War (VFW) Mid-Winter Conference in January 2012. I was very excited to share my story with them, explain my mission and get feedback from the people in the room. But when I got to the podium and saw all of the faces of the veterans there looking at me, it was a little difficult to speak initially because I was trying to choke back the tears that were welling up in my eyes. I was overcome with emotion and pride, thankful for all the sacrifices those brave men and women in that room had made for each one of us.

  When I was done speaking, it was a very humbling experience to have the roomful of veterans stand and applaud me even though they were the ones who deserved a standing ovation. The event was a reminder of why I wanted to do the run. Their selflessness and bravery was the reason I wanted to raise awareness and funds for veteran-based organizations, and I wanted to honor each of them with every mile I ran.

  That speaking engagement, along with similar ones, really made something jump out to me months later. Sometime during my run across the US I thought back to the West Virginia VFW Mid-Winter Conference. “I’m about 30 years younger than most of the people that were in that room,” I thought. There were a few veterans in their 20s in attendance, but there was a generation gap that really stuck in my mind throughout my journey. Being out on the open road in isolation allowed me to think about what could be done to get veterans from my generation more actively involved in the organizations set up to serve and assist them.

  During a previous speaking engagement, I had the opportunity to meet a fellow West Virginia runner who had also raised money for the Wounded Warrior Project. On Veterans Day 2011, I was invited to serve as a speaker at a gala in Martinsburg hosted by Spenser Wempe, Miss West Virginia. Her platform was the Wounded Warrior Project and Veterans’ Welfare, and it was an honor to be invited to take part in this special event. Also speaking at the gala was Drew Miller, who had recently run 2,400 miles from Long Beach, California, to Spencer, West Virginia.

  Drew was a very humble
guy and knew what he accomplished was remarkable, yet he kept going on about what I was about to do. The insight that he shared with me about his experience running 2,400 miles proved to be invaluable to me. I was able to learn what did and didn’t work for him during his journey, and it helped me in crafting my own strategy for crossing the continental United States in a pair (OK, 10 pairs) of sneakers.

  When the kickoff to my run drew closer, Drew attended a silent auction put on by my family and friends that raised more than $7,000. Just knowing the suffering that Drew endured during his run was inspiring to me, and there was no competitive demeanor when we talked about our individual runs. Really the entire running community was extremely supportive of my venture. But that shouldn’t be surprising. Runners are generally one of the most supportive groups of athletes in sports.

  OK, maybe sprinters aren’t as supportive of their cohorts. It’s pretty common today to see elite international sprinters talking trash like they are heavyweight boxers at a weigh-in. But in the distance running community, generally speaking, it’s more about lifting up your fellow competitors rather than trying to tear them down. I think distance runners realize how physically and mentally difficult those long runs can be, and when we see others attempting to accomplish similar goals, we develop a mutual respect and admiration for one another.

  Lip Service

  Preparing my body to be able to handle the daily mileage of the run was certainly challenging, but there were other things related to my preparation for this journey that also proved to be difficult. One of them was our attempt to obtain sponsors for the run. The operational costs of the journey were significant, so I knew that soliciting funding and in-kind donations from sponsors was essential. In addition to financing $23,000 for the RV, we ended up spending more than $3,500 in gas during the trip. And while Tiffany and I were both extended goodwill by our respective employers that we would have a job when the journey was completed, there was always a lingering question about what we would do financially if we discovered that wasn’t true. We knew we were already stretching ourselves as thin as possible, especially considering we were not earning paychecks during the four months we would be away from our jobs.

  Unfortunately, I found that many of the large corporations I contacted couldn’t find the time of day to hear my pitch or didn’t share my vision, belief and confidence that the run across America would be a success. Others promised to get involved in some way but never followed through.

  Fortunately, I had much better success with the smaller local companies. And it was the willingness of those grassroots companies to get behind this mission that really fueled my tank during those times when I would get a little frustrated at the larger corporations that so often quickly dismissed my vision.

  Local companies provided some important assistance. Centra Bank CEO Douglas Leech, as well as the Greater Morgantown Convention and Visitors Bureau, were among those that offered financial support. Charles Ryan & Associates, led by Aly Goodwin-Gregg and Jessica Hall, provided unbelievable publicity, connecting me with local and national media before, during and after my run. Asayo Creative provided assistance with the design of my website. HealthWorks provided some medical supplies while Ray Adams offered some stretching techniques designed to aid in my recovery from the daily mileage. Morgantown Printing and Binding did the vehicle wrap on the motorhome, prominently displaying the “Run for Wounded Warriors” theme.

  There were some companies that did step up and provide me with some much-needed supplies. The biggest blessing was when 10 boxes of my preferred model of running shoes arrived on my front doorstep courtesy of Dr. Mark Cucuzzella and Two Rivers Treads in Shepherdstown, West Virginia. Others who contributed supplies include Aquaphor, Gatorade, Gold Bond and Gu Energy. One other company, Holabird Sports, located near Baltimore, also came through in a pinch when I truly needed it the most (I’ll share more about its assistance in Chapter 9).

  Finally, John Brennan from MyAthlete Live gave me one of its newest devices to provide live tracking of me during the run. This was a huge blessing to our family, because it provided a layer of assurance that they would always be able to monitor me when I was off running miles away from the RV. Additionally, it gave all of my friends and supporters a chance to following my daily progress in real time and monitor my location, elevation, speed and miles traveled.

  “If you’re following me live on the website and you see that it’s tracking me at going 60 miles per hour, you’ll know I’m cheating,” I joked more than once. In reality, there were some anxious moments for some of my followers when we made last-minute adjustments to the route I was running and the tracker would show me going off the designated course on the map. I know Tiffany and I received more than a few text messages from some of my followers telling us that I was running the wrong way!

  I was definitely thankful for all of those in-kind donations. However, as you’ve probably figured out by now, when I do something I attempt to do it big. I had hoped to get several major companies on board as financial backers. Not only would this help my family to keep our out-of-pocket expenses down (and they ended up being considerable), but the ultimate goal was to raise as much money as possible for organizations focused on providing assistance to our veteran community.

  I had literally hundreds of conversations with potential sponsors and supporters of the run in the 18 months leading up to it. I was disappointed to discover, however, that numerous companies that I had relied on to come through with things they promised or committed to, ultimately did not deliver on their promises. Our vets deal with this same type of lip service every day. Many different organizations or federal and state programs have been set up to help veterans, but all too often those groups stray from their good intentions and get off track, thus failing to provide goods or services to the veterans they were supposed to assist and support. That’s one of the reasons I have carefully reviewed each of the organizations that has benefited from the funds we raised and continue to raise.

  With the realization that major corporate sponsors were not going to back my mission, it caused me to rethink where I planned to finish. Initially my “point B” was Baltimore because it was the headquarters of a major athletic apparel supplier. The company already had a great relationship with the Wounded Warrior Project, so I thought it would be tremendous for all parties if I finished in its home community. The company declined to sponsor me, (although they did offer to give me 40% off of clothing for my journey that I didn’t bother using), and as the months wore on and I continued to focus on what the whole run was for, it just made sense to revisit the final stop of the run.

  It wasn’t until a little more than a month before I began that a new end point was chosen. Knowing that I planned to complete the run on July 4, I thought that the Chesapeake Bay in Annapolis, Maryland, home of the U.S. Naval Academy, would be an ideal finish line. Adjusting the route would also enable me to run through Washington, DC, giving me an opportunity to run past some of the memorials erected to remember our country’s heroes. There couldn’t have been a better finish line for me to cross.

  Driving West to Run East

  After nearly two full years of training and preparation, my life had already changed in more ways than I could have ever imagined. But as my family packed into our motorhome and began our trek from Morgantown to Oregon to get to the starting point of the run, I knew the real adventure was just beginning! There were butterflies and feelings of anxiousness as I slid behind the wheel of the RV and began driving out of town on March 16, 2012, but I had invested way too much to turn back now. The road ahead was one that would not only challenge me physically and mentally, but also test our faith and love in one another as a family like they had never been tested before.

  The five-day drive from West Virginia to Oregon was eventful at times. By the third night on the road, we were in Wyoming but we had an abrupt end to our travels when we hit a blizzard … well really the blizzard hit us. Driving into the rapidly falling f
lakes of white snow with the night sky as a backdrop made for beautiful yet perilous conditions. In what seemed like mere minutes, the snow blanketed Interstate 80 like a fluffy white comforter draped across a bed. The storm forced the state police to shut down the interstate. We managed to pull off in Fort Bridger (we would return to this area during the trek back across America), find a parking lot to park the RV for the night and kick on the furnace running off the house battery. Fortunately for us the small restaurant Will-Yums Turf that was supposed to close at 9 p.m. was still open because of the traffic off of the interstate. The owners let us in to use the bathroom, a welcome gesture since we still had the RV winterized and were without running water.

  Still being novices with our new home on wheels, we’re not entirely sure what went wrong. But at some point in the night the battery died and my mom, who had joined us on our trip out West, woke me up very early in the morning to tell me the temperature in the RV was down to 49 degrees! Our dog, Emmie, was cuddled up with Tiffany and me in the back of the motorhome, and our two children were tucked away up front, so we hadn’t noticed the drop in temperature. Trying to get the furnace back on, I failed to prime the generator and the dull thud when I pressed the start button made my mom’s heart drop. When I finally got the generator up and running, I checked and it was 19 degrees and very windy outside.

  Later that morning we were able to get back on the road, and we made a stop at the Salt Flats in Utah. Being the adventurous one of our family, my daughter decided to taste a piece of the salt that crusted the ground. Needless to say, Shayna quickly learned that it didn’t taste like table salt!