The Journey of a Thousand Moving Pieces
by Andrea Zuchora
For the first five months of 2015, my days’ routine had become stagnant to the point of being stifling. Every day, I awoke sometime between five to six am, showered, packed up camp (and I mean that literally: a lot of my nights were spent in a sleeping bag and tent put up in state parks, campgrounds, and rv parks), herded my runner (and all of our moving pieces, our affectionately disparaging term for all of our belongings) to the car, and drove to the starting line of that day’s stage. From there, I would travel in six and a half mile increments along a pre-set course, eventually ending up at the finish line (26 and some change miles later), where I would sit and wait for four hours, until the last runner had completed the day’s 26.2+ mile stage. My responsibilities then included driving them wherever they wanted to go (a cafe, a fast food restaurant, the grocery store, or just a gas station), until it was time to set up camp, and begin the process all over again. A typical day often ended at 6:30pm, up to twelve hours after it began.
I wouldn’t have traded my experience for the world.
Last December, I accepted a research assistant position with Dr. Bryce Carlson of Purdue University, not realizing that the job I was primarily signing up for was “support crew” for the Race Across USA, a 140 day journey across the southern United States. Kate DuHadway of the Lansing State Journal published a great write up of my naivete, or my thoughts on the journey prior to leaving, which can be found here. The goal of the event was to advocate for childhood fitness and raise awareness of the “epidemic of childhood obesity.”
As a runner myself, the chance to support twelve incredible, yet every day “average,” runners as they each ran a marathon (something I had only dreamed of achieving) every single day for four and a half months was a tremendous honor and opportunity. From the little I knew about the project, I gathered that all individuals involved (support crew and runners) would be traveling together caravan style, thrown together in what I can most simply and aptly describe as “Survivor”-esque. Indeed, that many people living together and being around each other constantly did make for some interesting interpersonal dynamics, but nothing that time couldn’t smooth over (although the runners’ numbers did drop from twelve to seven, some because of these interpersonal dynamics). Time, of course, that most of us appeared to have in droves. For those running, this meant between three and a half hours to seven hours of relative solitude on the road each day; this was, pretty consistently, the range of time between when the first and last runner finished their respective marathons each day. As the primary driver of the last runner (who is one of the sweetest men I’ve ever met, and who, by the way, started the race on his 73rd birthday), this meant that I also spent around seven hours on the course each day. This may seem like a lot of down time. It was not. The first half of every day was spent at my “aid station” (as a United States of America Track and Field sanctioned event, we were required to follow all sorts of rules, all for the safety of the runners. One such rule was that we had to provide aid stations every quarter marathon, which allowed the runners a chance to refill their water bottles, or eat some sort of fuel that they left with the support vehicles beforehand), and then at the halfway point of each stage (the second aid station). From there, I sprinted to the GPS coordinates of that day’s finish line, set it up (our finish lines were “all natural:” I typically marked the finish line with a collection of stones, twigs, or a chalk line, whatever materials I found on the side of the road that day), and began the daily wait.
How to begin to encapsulate what this experience meant to me? How to even approach a discussion of this experience at all? I traveled over 11,000 miles through 12 states over four and a half months, not even counting my mileage out to California for the beginning of the race; I drove my own personal vehicle as part of my job requirements as support crew, a small Saturn Ion sedan. I traveled with an incredibly eclectic group of runners and staff, ranging from college professors, computer programmers, and retired teachers, to world record breakers and former professional athletes. I also traveled with two other recent college graduate crew members, with whom I was able to share laughs, frustrations, and ineffably memorable road trips. I loved them all.
When I first agreed to become Dr. Carlson’s research assistant, I had no idea what my adventure would actually entail. I was only really sure about four things:
- I would get to travel, seeing places that were previously as accessible to me as Middle Earth (prior to driving out to California, the farthest west this Michigan native had ever been was Chicago).
- I would experience camping for the first time (which had always seemed like a fun idea in theory).
- I would be traveling, presumably in close proximity, with experienced runners, from whom I hoped to learn running tricks and secrets about anything and everything from form to nutrition (and I of course made sure to bring running shoes!)
- I was hired on as a research assistant, so I would presumably be doing some type of data collection.
I really had no idea what I was in for.
My time with Race Across USA was dominated by my support crew duties. How could it not? As an organization that was constantly on the move, my vehicle’s importance was paramount, both in terms of being one of the four available means of transportation, as well as by functioning as the only storage space for my belongings in addition to all of the belongings of my passengers. Once a routine became established, and it became clear that the seven runners always finished in a mostly predictable order, we determined which vehicle would be responsible for which runners. Each vehicle traveling with RAUSA carried all of the belongings of all of the set occupants of that vehicle, which limited my carrying capacity to one other person. Sometimes I regretted bringing such a small vehicle, but never because of my passenger. I drove Newton Baker around, who is one of the most incredible men I’ve ever met. He is a 73 year old retired teacher of 35 years, with a special interest in writing and books, which complemented this former English major perfectly. I learned something new at least every day, if not every other hour I spent with him. In fact, I was constantly learning new things, just as a neat side effect of spending so much time with the myriad assortment of personalities that constituted RAUSA and its followers. As part of the event, we were often joined by runners who completed either a whole state with our core group, or anywhere from one to four day stints. I can’t recall a single one of these runners whom I disliked. Most of the time, these transient runners also brought their own crew members, whom I came to appreciate even more. While running multiple marathons back to back is definitely an incredible feat, crewing for those efforts was nothing to scoff at either, something I learned firsthand. When I first learned that I had been offered the position, I was ecstatic for the opportunity to network with the multitude of collaborators helping with the various research projects associated with RAUSA, especially because I hoped to pursue a career in research myself. What I didn’t realize, however, was how many incredible contacts I would make with just the runners and their crew. I made lifelong friends all across the USA.
What I was least prepared for, though, was one of the best parts about travelling with RAUSA. As I mentioned before, the goal of the whole event was to raise awareness for childhood fitness and to fight childhood obesity. Part of this meant being the “foot soldier” ambassadors for the 100 Mile Club, the charity organization for which we were raising money. The 100 Mile Club is an incentive program to get children excited to exercise: the program challenges students to run or walk 100 miles in a school year, providing t-shirts and a shiny gold medal, among other things, to motivate them to reach their goals. Along the way, they also come to learn the benefits of setting goals, being determined, and working together with their fellow students. Between California and Washington, D.C., the RAUSA team visited a number of schools, speaking to thousands of students about the importance of setting and reaching goals, being physically fit, and finding their passions. To call these talks merely “inspirational” would be a gross understatement. They were inspirational not only because of their delivery, but also because of their undeniable truth. Some of the runners would share how their relationship with running began, and then elucidate how such a simple thing as lacing up one’s shoes could lead to such a huge undertaking as a literal cross country journey, always to the children’s amazement. Even though I wasn’t the intended audience of these talks, they nevertheless hit home for me. Specifically, one runner had a speech about how important one’s mindset is. By utilizing a mindset that prioritized asking “how can I do more?” instead of “what can I get away with?” in terms of physical fitness and eating healthily, he demonstrated how his humble beginnings with running as a faster way to complete his childhood paper route eventually led to him being able to realize his dream of running across the continent. A common theme of the speeches spoke of how finding an activity that one is passionate about, and committing to it, could open unexpected doors.
For me, it was my passion for running that lead me to this opportunity in the first place. I started running cross country as a senior in high school, and liked the sport so much that I continued running club while at Michigan State University. I fell in love with everything about it: the supportive, friendly community; the incredible people that I met who shared my love for the sport; and, of course, the sense of pride and accomplishment. Running, it could go without saying, had a profound effect on my self esteem. I learned that I could surprise myself, and accomplish great achievements if I just put my mind toward it. I am much more comfortable taking “risks” because of this mindset. Thus, when I saw on Twitter that a professor whom I’d never met or heard of was looking for a research assistant for a five month journey driving across the southern USA, I went for it.
Through my involvement with Race Across USA, I also had the opportunity to meet Kara Lubin, the founder of the 100 Mile Club. She’s one of the most energetic, enthusiastic, and positive people that I’ve had the good fortune to meet. Soon after I had returned home from the journey's end, she posted something that I feel perfectly encapsulates the significance of an open mindset for whatever one’s passion in life is:
“You never know where running will take you. Go.”
There’s no way I could ever write something that could convey everything that happened during those five months on the road. For me, it’s enough that it happened; my eyes and mind are open, and I’m eagerly anticipating where my life's passions take me next.
For more information on the Race Across USA, check out their website or their Facebook page. For more information about the research aspects of the project, check out Dr. Carlson's blog post or this NPR article.
