Greetings from Los Angles! This Flagrunner got to do this once-in-a-lifetime event three times, having chased her from Connecticut on October 12th to the Pacific Ocean on November 11th. Most of that chasing was by plane, but in my heart I was cheering Her on every day.

I always love California and California has been so good to me once again. I ran about 7 or 8 miles in the dessert west of San Bernardino Saturday night with a lively group of runners. It was my first time in any dessert and a positive thrill to be there, meeting up with that flag again.

My goal from the beginning (for me) in Connecticut, was to see this flag into LAX. I was dropped off at my pickup point twelve miles out yesterday, planning to run the last five miles in. But, as soon as my feet hit the pavement, I didn't stop for three hours, except for two water breaks. My knees gave out at about the twelve miles point, but my mind drove me on. There was no way that flag was going into LAX without me.

The procession from LAX to Dockweiler's Beach for the ceremony was a walking procession of airline employees in uniform, and victims' families, and many others. Old Glory was flanked by state flags sent in from around the country.

Way back in Connecticut, I had ozoned a little as I was running one time, crowded up on the flag runner, and the flag caressed my face. I felt it had given me its blessing. Here in California, I wanted to lock eyes on the Montana State Flag. My brother David, who had served proudly as a Marine, went to Montana once and never came back, he loved it so much. He is now buried there. When I called the State of Montana to ensure their flag's presence, the Governor's office treated me with characteric Montana hospitality and promptly sent their flag. I had to see it.

It took me about twenty minutes to find it. For a long while, I was next to an airline employee, a woman with blond hair in a french braid bearing a flag. I wound up behind her after a bit and clipped her heel with my toe by accident. As she corrected her balance, her flag dipped and caressed my face. Twenty minutes later, when I saw Montana's flag, it was the one she was carrying. It had found me and reached out and touched me.

As you can see by the many diary entries, and the length of this one, there are not enough words to describe this event. I am so happy to be here. I am so humbled.

Sent in love,
Kathryn D. Malley
Plymouth, CT
(written in L.A. 11-12-01)

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