Reflections. Part 4 of 4.

Parts I through 3 of Paula’s journey appeared in our last three issues.

Blacktop, some prairie, a bunch of corn, a gentle downhill from Colorado to Michigan—and, most vividly, Lake Michigan’s Little Traverse Bay sparkling in the sunlight as I ran my way into Petoskey. Every single time I thought about the Run, I pictured the bay. Every single time I felt tired during the Run, I pictured the bay. No way to get to the bay if I didn’t keep running.

AVES exactly, did I visualize as I prepared for this run across the heartland?

At last—Little Traverse Bay!

Photo by Paul Vaugh

So! What, exactly, actually happened out there on the road?

Yes, blacktop—quiet, usually rolling, with gracious drivers brightening the day with a friendly wave.

Yes, prairie—stunningly beautiful with rippling prairie grass, craggy nooks and crannies, wildflowers among tumbleweeds, butterflies, and dragonflies flitting everywhere, and dotted with shy cattle and rambunctious horses.

Yes, corn—everywhere, corn . . . fields of it, kernels, cobs, and stalks littering the road, and corn-motif shower curtains in the campground. But also soybeans, vast expanses of alternating fields of soybeans and corn filling the view all the way to the horizon in every direction.

No gentle downhill. No, sirree. Yes, you lose altitude, but somehow you do that by going up and down, up and down, incessantly up and down. My legs are more than willing to testify that there is at least as much up as there is down between Colorado and Michigan.

Yes, Little Traverse Bay—always there in my mind’s eye beckoning me eastward, one step at atime. And there it was, its glistening, bright-blue

no ho welcoming me as _— P 3 if 0 S 4 a 4 But, as usual, my vision of CITY LIMIT

the trip was a bit naive. I tend to do that—oversimplify—perhaps for fear that, if I build a detailed picture in my mind, I will be disap- STATE HIGH pointed by reality; or perhaps for BOYS SKIING 82,84,87,98,00-02 fear that if I build a detailed picture, I will scare myself right out of attempting whatever it is 1am dreaming of. Thus I blocked out thoughts of becoming tired, hot, drained of energy (all of which happened); or lost, attacked by dogs, harassed by people, sucked dry by mosquitoes, or caught in ferocious storms (none of which happened because of an incredible 57-day streak of good luck).

Petoskey city limit and one happy
runner.

= = z S £ & g g

& > B

The trip was … simply wonderful

However, the most remarkable aspects of this trip were beyond my imagination and even more precious because of that. The overwhelming sensation of the trip emanates from the power of simplicity woven into the vastness of the open horizon.

Running is a very simple act. Get up in the morning, eat a bowl of oatmeal, lace up the shoes, and put one foot in front of the other for 15 miles: very simple. Eat lunch, get cozy with some ice, take a nap, put on clean socks and fresh shoes, and run another 15: simple. OK, perhaps it’s not so simple to have your body trained for 180-mile weeks, map out a 1,400-mile route, figure out the right selection and amount of calories and fluids to be handy at the right times, set up rendezvous points, gather supplies for two months on the road, or round up a willing and ready support crew. But those were organized and planned prior to the trip, which left my mind free for just . . . running. Once the run started, my day-to-day mission—traveling on foot from point A to point B—was simple. After years of daily bombardments of work angst, technical conundrums, deadlines, and politics, this was a gloriously freeing way of life.

Even more astounding than the sudden simplicity of daily life was the open horizon. The miles-long line of sight began to permeate everything. Gone were the walls of office and home; constraints of what was deemed possible or prudent were, by necessity, banished from thought; inhibitions floated away with the breezes that continually caressed my brow. It was me moving through a world with no boundaries. It lifted my step and cleared my brain (perhaps too much so, as language and arithmetic both became challenging as the trip progressed); it filled my day with the easy rhythm of trot, trot, trotting down the road; it brought songs to my lips, smiles to my face, spontaneous conversations with my poppa up above, laughter bubbling up at the most inconsequential sightings or thoughts, and a trusting openness to whatever might come my way.

Amid the simplicity—or perhaps because of it—we were easily entertained, and we thoroughly appreciated all we encountered along the way. Here are some of the humorous bits from the road (it didn’t take much to amuse me along the way; simple running seems to beget simple humor), as well as a few of the “bests” of PJ’s Run, just in case you find yourself exploring the back roads of the heartland.

Amusements along the road Support-crew entertainment:

° belting out “Pretty Woman” as they drove by

° sunglasses-bedecked Kendall and Paul performing a Blues Brothers routine at one support stop

¢ “There she goes just a-walking down the street” by Kendall with Paul on the “do wah diddy” chorus

° “Ninety-nine miles to go on the road” after passing the 100-miles-left-toPetoskey mark

Songs for the Meandering Through the Heartland Musical (begun but not completed during the run): “Take Heed, It’s a Tumbleweed” (Paul was very glad when the tumbleweeds became scarcer; | rather wore that song out); “Knee-slap Hoedown” (I was running so slowly that Paul could “run” and slap his knees at the same time); and the “County-line Polka”—crossing county lines was quite a celebratory event!

Upon spotting a herd of tagged cows:

° PJ: “Those cows have earrings. They’re hip.” ° Paul: “No, they’re not. Lots of cows have them.” ° PJ: “It’s not some fashion statement from New York City?” ¢ Paul: “Most cows in New York City are found between two pieces of bread.” Conversation around mystery scat on the Cowboy Trail in Nebraska: ¢ PJ: “I wonder what that is.” ° Paul: “I don’t.” ¢ PJ: “You don’t wonder what made that?” ¢ Paul: “Nope.” Later . . . a fresh pile prompted the following two-line exchange:

° PJ: “Still don’t wonder?” ° Paul: “Nope.”

Hearing “Happy Birthday” being sung by the staff over the loudspeakers at a Bosselman [Nebraska] Truck Plaza.

“I spy with my own two eyes” game, initiated by Paul while he was cycling next to me on a trail; highly recommended for megahours of slow running.

Paul’s new nickname after I asked him where Kendall was (Paul had run back to me after he and Kendall parked the motor home). Paul said we would meet Kendall at a place where there was a Shell station, an Arby’s, a car wash, a Burger King, and “other random stuff.” Thus was born Paul, King Random Sharbyash.

“Bovine statuary”—my new moniker for the surprising number of cow statues we spotted along the road.

Ericson, Nebraska—home of the “Starving Stallion Saloon” out by the highway and the “Hungry Horse Saloon” in town.

Animals:

¢ Funny bunny money: I spotted a bunny on the first day, and it took a while before Paul could understand what I was saying… funny? money? bunny?

¢ Cows invariably stampeded when I ran by—except the one time Paul was cycling with me while giving me a blow-by-blow narrative of the new Spider-Man movie. In that case, the cows all lined up along the fence to listen to Paul (my son, the cow whisperer).

¢ Horses invariably ran along with me.

¢ leven started a pig stampede (it may have had something to do with my comment about their big ears—yes, I talked to pigs, and most every animal I saw along the way).

Most interesting food roadkill: * anentire package of oozing Velveeta cheese ¢ a hamburger with its layers dribbling down the road ° a pork chop ¢ a bunch of bananas (did you know they turn gray after lying in the sun?) * a giant-sized Hershey bar, completely intact ¢ a2-pound bag of teriyaki beef stick “ends and pieces”

Most interesting critter roadkill: a bat Support-crew encounters with folks as the crew moseyed down the road, stopping to wait for me every couple of miles:

¢ “Are you checking out all the country roads in lowa?”

¢ After Kendall asked for and received directions to trail crossings, then explained what we were up to, the helpful motorist laughingly responded with: “I’m done talking to you!”

¢ “I thought maybe you were getting tired after driving two miles at a time.”

¢ “We thought you were the dairy inspector.” Bigelow, Minnesota: “Home of Swampy Days” Road sign at a turkey farm: “Drumstick Lane” In Minnesota pig farm country, as I came up to the support crew: ¢ Kendall: “There’s an unusual smell.” e PJ: “That would be me, dear.” Paul’s response to hearing his dad’s burp from afar: ““Was that your battle cry, Dad?”

Paul upon seeing the sign for County Road MMM: “Mmmm, that’s some good county road.”

Kendall quote (on day 35, not that we were getting road goofy or anything): “Most everything can be explained by a Star Trek episode.”

The bests of the road

I cannot recommend highly enough a long, slow trip through the heartland of America. These are just a few of the highlights: * Quietest roads: Minnesota (timed 15 minutes between cars). ¢ Prettiest roads: Nebraska sand hills (very quiet with the extra bonus of curving, rolling, enchanting prairie . . . peaceful beauty at every turn). ¢ Prettiest trail: Cannon Valley Trail between Cannon Falls and Red Wing, Minnesota—lush foliage high above the Cannon River. ¢ Most remarkable bird event (near Eau Pleine, Wisconsin): a bald eagle circled overhead for several minutes until it dove headlong into a tree with much thrashing and crashing (I thought it was attacking something). Just as I passed by the tree, out it flew—with another eagle gliding alongside!

¢ The loudest critters: bullfrogs that croaked up everything from nighttime serenades to roadside bear imitations.

¢ Best cocktail: pifia colada Clif Shot Blok with Gatorade Riptide Rush chaser.

Photo by Lysa Wegman-French

A Nebraska sand hills—the essence of Paula’s run through the heartland.

Best pizza: Jakes in Fairmont, Minnesota. It would be yummy even without running 30 miles per day!

Best cafe: Emily’s Soda Fountain in Broken Bow, Nebraska. Two tasty lunches for $7 total, great pie and ice cream, air conditioning, and free Internet.

Best ice cream: Original Rainbow Cone in Wausau, Wisconsin (followed closely by Emily’s in Broken Bow and Blue Bunny in Le Mars, Iowa).

Best pie: the Burwell Senior Center. Simply put, if you ever find yourself in the vicinity of Burwell, Nebraska, on a Friday morning, get yourself over to the Burwell Senior Center. For $1.25, you get a cup of coffee, a slice from any of dozens of pies made by the seniors of Burwell, and fantastic conversation. In my opinion, there is no better way to spend a Friday morning.

Favorite homemade dinner: turkey burgers with fresh avocado slices on

Great Harvest bread. We never tired of that combo.

Best postrun end-of-day snack: Great Harvest cookie—any flavor!

Most unique campground: Voss Campground in Butterfield, Minnesota.

Hundreds of trees planted in rows (years ago) with room for camping in

between and a re-created pioneer town built by volunteers complete with

general store, livery, broom-making shop, print shop, miniature railroad,

and tractors of every size and shape.

Best campground shower: a tie between Jackson, Minnesota, KOA and

Gladstone, Michigan, campground—both with lockable doors, temperature

control, nozzles you could pull off to cold spray your legs—versus campgrounds with push buttons for a couple of minutes of one-temperature/

one-speed water, or pull-chain pirouette showers, or put-in-your-quarterand-shower-really-fast showers.

Best restrooms (always a banner day when you find a good restroom):

¢ Hudson, Colorado, Public Library (homey, clean, and a story hour to eavesdrop on!).

¢ Northeast Community College in Sterling, Colorado (clean, air conditioned, and with big sinks for hat dunking).

¢ Hershey, Nebraska, city park (trails to and from the road, clean, a drinking fountain, and a ballgame!).

Most fanatical football fans: I expected this to go to the Nebraska Cornhuskers but, to my surprise, it was overwhelmingly the Green Bay Packers

fans—green-and-yellow houses and outbuildings, green-and-yellow goal

posts in the front yard, green-and-yellow Mickey and Minnie Mouse lawn

ornaments, and satellite dishes with the Green Bay logo, to name just a few

P 1,362 miles into the run, Colorado Deb surprises Paula with hugs and pom-poms along the Petoskey-Mackinaw City trail.

Vv Paula walks hand in hand with her mom and son Devon while younger son Paul looks on after the surprise welcome along the Petoskey Wheelway.

Photo by Paul VaughanMiller

A After 57 days and 1,400 miles, Paula arrives at the finish line in front of her mom’s house.

Photo by Deb Mooney

examples of the Packer-backer memorabilia spotted along the Wisconsin roads.

¢ Best nickname for my road crew: “Paula’s presidential motorcade” from a buddy who met up with us on the road near Cannon Falls, Minnesota. He also brought us some of the best treats of the trip: homemade rhubarb pie, homemade applesauce, and fresh-picked raspberries along with a Prairie Home Companion joke book for the road crew. Nothing like home cooking and laughs to brighten the day!

¢ Best cheerleading squad: my friend Deb (who had helped so much with the preparations for the run) and her friend Linda, who met us at the end of our first day in Michigan’s Lower Peninsula. There they were at the end of the trail I was running down, jumping around and shaking handmade toilet-paper pom-poms.

° Best welcome to Petoskey ever: the gang that met me along the Petoskey Wheelway … family, friends, school mates, and journalists offering a grand Hoorah! as the Little Traverse Bay sparkled into view. As an extra added delight, two of my good buddies from high school ran with me along the final stretch of trail into town (it was the first run ever for one of them!). They then took off and helped prepare the welcome at my mom’s house, complete with finish-line tape made of crepe paper in my high school colors. Well worth a 1,400-mile run.

¢ Best quote from a book while on the road: “The greater part of heroics lay in simply refusing to quit,” from The Race of the Century and shared by Kendall on day 53.

The journey’s end

It began with a vision and was surpassed by reality. Day after 30-mile day on the open road, and what did I actually achieve? An exquisite, incomparable sense of calm and freedom.

If you ever have a vision, allow it to take root, nurture it, and let it blossom—no matter how improbable it may seem. In the words of Robin Morgan, editor of Ms. magazine: “Only she who attempts the absurd can achieve the impossible.”