Commence running! Part 2 of 4.

tep 1, the preparation, is complete. It’s time to run!

We had a grand plan for the first few days of the run while my husband, Kendall (an elementary school library media specialist), was wrapping up his school year:

Day 1, son Paul would run the morning 15 with me, running buddy Andy Edmondson (affectionately referred to as AndyE) would run the last nine miles of the day with me, and my coplanner Deb would be support crew for the day.

Day 2, Kendall’s brother Andy would be support crew.

Day 3, running buddy Joe would be support crew.

Each of those 30-mile days I would return home in the evening, and on day 4, we would say good-bye to Boulder, hop in the motor home, and head out of town for the remainder of the voyage to Michigan. (Yikes!)

Day 1: Wednesday, June 6

There’s your ticker tape parade, your stadium full of cheering fans, and your concert hall standing ovation, but none of these compares to the send-off I received when I began my run to Michigan.

Day 1 support crew, Deb, arrived bright and early. Deb had helped so much with logistics over the past year that I suspect she signed on for the first day in large part to ensure that I actually made it out the door and started off in the right direction to Michigan. We got the car loaded with food, Gatorade, water, ice, first-aid kit, spare clothes, towels, walkie-talkies, PJ’s Run map book, GPS unit, sunscreen, bug spray .. . we had a really long list. I got myself prepared, eating oatmeal for breakfast, slathering on sunscreen, loading my double water bottle belt with so much stuff (including Gatorade, GU, Clif Shot Bloks, ginger chews, toilet

David Cavalieri

paper, cell phone, ID, GPS unit, big honkin’ whistle to scare attacking dogs, and bandanna) that all of the day 1 pictures show me riding very low to the ground. Then we sat. As my son Paul wrote in his reminiscence about the run:

“Getting ready for the 8:00 start after preparing for just the one day I had in Boulder seemed like far too short a time, until the last few minutes. Those last few minutes, when we had pretty much finished preparing for the day’s run and we needed to wait so that we would arrive at places at the right time for people to meet us, seemed to last far too long. Standing at the end of the driveway was especially odd. A part of me was in disbelief of what was really happening. I’ve started a lot of runs in that driveway, but none of them had any sort of pomp and circumstance associated with them. Yet there I was, feeling nervous about running 15 miles, getting my mom across the country, and posing for the pictures Dad was taking.”

Our planned departure time would have us running by my husband’s school (Creekside Elementary) just before the school bell rang. The second-graders at Creekside had written a book about the school that we had traded with a few schools along the run route, and I had visited the school to talk about my run. So I thought I would run by and wave, since the school is just two blocks from home and right next to the bike path I would be running on for the first few miles.

When 7:50 rolled around (finally), we headed out the door and discovered a passel of friends waiting in the driveway with Superman and Superwoman balloons on either side. AndyE was there on his bike to ride along with for a bit. Hugs, cheers, and cameras clicking. Then it was down the driveway and, gulp, out into the street. The run was on!

Around the corner, around the next corner, and there was the school—with the expected crowd of kids lining the playground fence and the unexpected crowd of what looked to be all of the teachers out in front of the school whooping and hollering. Lots of high fives, cheers, and grins through here, a deer in the headlights look toward Kendall, and then on to the relative calm of the bike path with Paul running and AndyE riding at my side.

A mile later—surprise! Two fellows from my preretirement workplace appeared in order to run with us until we got to my old office building. One of my workmates, Dennis, gave me a golden buffalo pin to wear throughout the run— which I did with great pride. It adorned my hat for many a mile during the run and still rides happily there today. (I worked at the University of Colorado, where I was a big fan of the Colorado Buffaloes sports teams.)

A Paula and son Paul running eastward up and out of the Boulder valley.

©Deb Mooney

Two miles into the run, we took a quick zigzag off the bike path and over to my old office building on CU’s east campus. I knew that my former boss and some of the folks in my unit wanted to wish me well. What I didn’t know was that practically the entire department would be waiting out front cheering wildly, holding huge hand-decorated signs of all varieties and sporting a kazoo band boisterously playing the CU fight song (or as Paul described it: “systems analysts playing kazoos”). I burst out laughing—the best send-off ever! To top it off, just as I was heading back to the bike path, Dennis came up to me, grabbed my shoulders, looked me straight in the eyes, and said, “You can do this.” Those words, that look, would come back to me many, many times throughout the run.

Back on the bike path, it got very quiet. AndyE left for home, and Paul and I trotted along, trying to follow the plan of 37 minutes running, three minutes walking, drinking every 20 minutes, eating every 40 minutes, and keeping the pace reasonable enough to complete the planned daily 30 miles. In Paul’s words:

“Afterward, when it was a bit quieter and less crowded, it started to sink in that the run, after a year of hearing about all the planning and scheduling that had been going on, was actually commencing. Seeing us go away from central Boulder, then away from houses, and finally off the trail onto the open road gave a little preview of the weeks to come.”

Deb kept close tabs on us from the car, refilling water and Gatorade bottles, making sure we had enough food, and blocking the view when I needed to pee. The morning went pretty smoothly, though warm (80s). Paul was having to work a bit toward the end, in part due to the heat and in part due to having returned from college to Colorado altitude just two days before the run started. What a trooper!

After completing the morning’s miles, we stopped by the Longmont Great Harvest Bakery. One of the owners and I had worked together at CU, and she had offered to supply us with bread; today was the day we had arranged to pick up her donation. And what a donation it was! Bread, muffins, rolls, cookies, sweet rolls, energy bars: practically every kind of baked good you could imagine! Throughout the summer, every time someone came out on the road to visit us, the bakery sent mountains of baked goods. As the plaque that I gave the bakery after I returned said: “PJ’s Run—fueled by Longmont Great Harvest Bread Co.” Given the number of calories I was burning, I can’t imagine how far out my ribs would have been sticking without those delectable baked goods.

From the bakery, we took Paul back home to cool off, rest up, and enjoy a wee bit of summer vacation. While home, I was able to jump into an ice bath, eat, put on fresh socks and shoes, and get ready for the second 15 miles of the day.

The start of the afternoon was not nearly as boisterous as the morning’s start. T also discovered that I needed to concentrate quite a bit more to keep moving

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A Deb and Paula, all hugs and smiles at the end of the first day of the journey toward Michigan.

forward. Finding AndyE at the 21-mile mark was a blessing. We’ve run a lot of miles together, so he pretty much knew when to talk, when to be quiet, when I needed to be reminded to drink, when I was floundering, and what to communicate to Deb when she met us every mile or two: ice massage for my cramping calf (I never cramp while running . . . except today), food, drink, cold cloth… whatever Ineeded, Deb and AndyE had it at the ready. As the afternoon progressed, my pace steadily slowed and my spunk drained out of me. At one point, a plastic bag blew past us and I commented to AndyE that even the bags were moving faster than I, and they don’t even have legs! But mile 30 and Fort Lupton finally appeared, and there I was, marking my stopping point with sidewalk chalk and my dad’s golf tee in the ground next to the Fort Lupton Historical Society building. Then I was standing in front of the Fort Lupton sign hugging Deb in total disbelief that the run had started and day | was in the books. I was on my way to Michigan!

Day 1 summary:

A.M.: 15.0 miles, 3 hours 34 minutes

P.M.: 15.46 miles, 3 hours 51 minutes

Lesson learned: Don’t kid yourself, Vaughan, this run is going to require a lot of work!

© Andy Edmondson

Day 2: Thursday, June 7

Kendall’s brother, Andy, reported in early. (Good thing; there was a wind storm overnight and we had branches down that needed cleaning up, including one on the motor home and one right next to it. No damage done. Whew!) After yesterday’s butt-dragging finale, I was a bit worried about today’s run but was looking forward to spending the day with Andy—a real treat for two friends who hadn’t had a chance to spend much time together in recent years. We got out to Fort Lupton with the plan that Andy would drive ahead a few miles, then ride back on his bike, accompany me until we reached the car, drive ahead, ride back, accompany, and repeat. It worked out great. Notables of the morning’s run:

It was 20 degrees cooler today with a light cloud cover and mostly a tail wind. Between the cooler temps, decreased sunshine, and handing my way-tooheavy water belt over to Andy, I was able to run one mile per hour faster than yesterday, according to the GPS unit. Light feet, happy tummy, nothing aching. WeeHaww!

I was surprised to discover that turtles seem to be the predominant road kill in this part of Colorado. Fortunately, I was able to rescue one wayward fella from the road before it got crunched.

The Hudson Public Library offers a most excellent restroom. (A good thing to learn early in the trip. We made several library stops along the way to Michigan, taking advantage of clean restrooms, cold water, and speedy Internet.)

Andy found a school at 16 miles where we took our lunch break. Then the tun got interesting. While Andy packed up after our break, I started out in 25 mile per hour winds with gusts up to 40 mph—strong enough to blow me out into the road, spew farming soil throughout the air, and send power lines twirling like jump ropes. Exciting stuff! I was surprised to not see Andy after 20 minutes of running; surprise turned to worry at 30 minutes. At 35 minutes, a car passed, then turned, came back toward me, and the folks within asked if I was Paula. It turns out that our car wouldn’t start, and Andy had sent these folks down the road looking for me. So, back to our lunch spot I went with my rescuers to wait with Andy for AAA, with 19.5 miles logged for the day.

Holly, massage therapist extraordinaire, had told me to fully expect three things to go wrong during the run. This car breakdown counts as the first of the three. But the morning run was stellar—a real confidence booster after yesterday—and the company was mighty fine. I would have to call this a good day.

Andy penned a few words about the support crew experience. He wrapped up with this:

“…if you can’t get the damn car started, and she has disappeared off into a raging Great Plains gale alone and without a pesky cell phone (or more

likely out of range), check the damn jumper cables before you give it up and get her back.

Get ’er on instead. Not get ’er done, get ’er on. On and on and on. Rub the feet, keep her rested through the rest times, and as brother Kendall says, ‘Remember, the summer is about fun after all.’”

Day 3: Friday, June 8

Another early-morning start, this time with Joe. His plan for the day was to drive ahead two miles, then run back to meet me, run with me until we reached the car, drive ahead, run back, run with me, and repeat. We found the place where I had been rescued yesterday, and he dropped me off and drove ahead. Then drove back. Say what? He got out of the car and said, ““We’re going to break the tules. You’re getting in the car.” It turns out that just after parking the car and starting his run back to me, he was chased by “the two meanest junkyard dogs” he has ever encountered. So, into the car I went until we got past the junkyard dogs. But then it was out into a glorious day, stunning, serene, high desert plains, tumbleweeds outnumbering cars, waves—actual waves—of grain, air filled with bird song rather than urban hubbub, views so long that I could see Joe parking the car two miles ahead.

A Paula and Joe Cirelli with map in hand, ready(?) for Day 3 of the run to Michigan.

That long view tricked me toward the end of the morning. We got to the 16-mile point where I had originally planned to stop for the morning. It turned out to be the base of a hill. I told Joe that, rather than start the afternoon run with a climb, I would go ahead and run this little hill and then we would have our midday break. Three-point-two miles later I finally topped the hill and we stopped for our break. Can you imagine those wagon train folks approaching the mountains?

Joe pampered me throughout the afternoon’s 12.8 miles, offering up beverages, fruit, conversation, anything to keep me happy and moving forward, so far forward that, upon finishing the day in Wiggins, we could no longer see the mountains. As Joe said with a smile on the way back to Boulder: “You know, it’s faster if you drive it . . . just suggesting . . . in case you want to rethink this.”

Day 4: Saturday, June 9—debut of the motor home!

Challenges aplenty today. The first three days left me with blisters on the pinkie toe and big toe of my left foot, major armpit chafing, and a huge welt and bruising just below my ribs where my cell phone had rested on the first (“heavy-belt’’) day. Beyond the physical challenges, there was also the challenge of getting the motor home ready for the road. I had thought that we had most of the packing done, but we found enough last-minute details to keep us busy until late morning. Consequently, two more rules were broken:

1. Thou shalt start early and avoid the midday heat (we got to our starting point at 12:45 p.m.; a bank thermometer in Fort Morgan registered in the 90s as I ran through).

2. Thou shalt not run in the dark (we didn’t arrive in Brush, our stopping point for the day, until 9:15 p.m., a few miles after sunset).

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Despite the rule breaking, we did have some fun today. Paul rode with me for the first 12 miles along with a whole bunch of folks who were doing a century ride. Somehow, word of what we were doing made its way through the riders so we were greeted by many waves and calls of “good luck.” With Paul at my side, I was able to forgo carrying a water bottle and just went with a small belt pack lightly loaded with a few GUs, ginger chews, a bit of TP, my cell phone, and my dad’s golf tee and a piece of sidewalk chalk to mark my ending point for each run segment. A bandanna was draped over the belt, and I carried the “big honkin’ whistle” (dog deterrent) in my right hand. This became the standard kit for the rest of the trip.

Other highlights of the day:

Our first sighting of a lark bunting, the Colorado state bird!

Upon our arrival in Brush, there was a picture of me and Paul staring out at us from the newspaper boxes. (The Brush News-Tribune editor had contacted me a while back with questions about the run and wrote up a front-page article about the adventure just in time for our arrival in town!)

Free camping in the Brush city park, complete with showers and indoor toilets. A great start for our lives as motor home campers.

Stay tuned for part 3 in our next issue: Relentless forward motion. ey