It has now been a full month since the Flagrun concluded. It does not seem like it has already been a month. I had a unique position of being with the odyssey for its last four days, from Phoenix all the way to Dockweiler Beach. I've already left an entry on the AZ pages, so here is my CA entry.

I was privileged to participate in the flag exchange at Parker, where the runners from Arizona proudly passed the US Flag and the crew members' pennant staff to the organizers and runners from California. I hated to say good-bye to my new friends from AZ, but I was determined to stay with the Run the rest of the way.

I drove the RV support vehicle for about three hours, and rode shotgun for a couple more. We followed members of the Mojave Tribe Whispering Runners. They had their run carefully planned out, shuttled their large group of runners about every two miles. There were two young boys who, after running maybe two or three 2-mile runs, decided to sprint! They left a third runner behind, so we had to beep the horn to get them to slow down and remain as a group. They were so enthusiastic. It was hot and dry, and they were sprinting!

I ate my first real meal in three days in the first small town we came to, then rejoined the Run about an hour later. There was a "shoe tree" where we rejoined the Run. Literally, a tree with a hundred shoes hanging from it! It seemed like a desert mirage. I then rested in the RV until the next morning. I awoke to watch a squad of Marines from Twenty-nine Palms running and singing "Jodie calls" for maybe 90 minutes. As they passed the Flag and staff to the next group of runners, they formed up, at attention, and these few, proud Marines, on the birthday of the Marine Corps (Nov 10), sang the Marine Corps Hymn. We passed though the high desert area as a group of runners from Raytheon Corporation, who had lost friends and coworkers aboard the ill-fated American and United flights, ran and proudly recalled their comrades. Early in the afternoon, five of the runners took the Flag on a special cross country run through the windmill forest northwest of Palm Springs. It was a real thrill. We also got to run on Interstate 10, though a very windy Banning Pass. The rest of Saturday was through increasing populated areas, as we intercepted venerable Route 66 and headed for the LA basin and the Flagrun's last day.

I rejoined the RV at about 3:30 am, after a late meal and a few hours' sleep at the home of AA California organizer Sven Davidson. Thanks, Sven. Sunday morning was wet with mist and light rain. As one of the runner's said, maybe it was angel tears. But the runners were undaunted, keeping up a steady pace as we entered the city of Los Angeles. The LAPD provided us with four motorcycle patrolmen, a supervisor van, and a half dozen cars. We were impressed and very appreciative of their gesture. I recalled how many of their brother officers died in the line of duty two months earlier. We passed through downtown LA, and even got to run by the LAPD HQ, the Parker Center. Some of the people who greeted us this drizzly Sunday morning looked like they had spent their time on the streets, but the clapped and cheered nonetheless. We passed through Zip Code 90210 and Rodeo Drive, then approached the Wilshire District. We made a right turn, and entered the very large Veterans' Hospital and grounds. I noticed one middle-aged man, dressed in blue jeans and an old fashioned Vietnam-era army fatigue jacket, come to attention and render a sharp salute as our Flag passed by. We stopped at the theater, and one of the runners explained the purpose of the Flagrun and the pennants to the four or five dozen vets assembled there. As she was doing that, I slowly made my way through the seats, shaking hands with these seasoned warriors on this Veterans' Day. The first man I came to was in a large wheelchair, and I shook his left hand, since he didn't have a right arm. One vet began weeping, saying this was the nicest thing to happened since the Olympic torch had passed through in 1984. I was so moved to be a part of this. It was an honor being with these heroes.

It was time to go, and before we knew it, we were into Santa Monica, and the Pacific Ocean stretched before us. This was a real thrill, realizing that the Flag had come this far! The crowds continued to grow as we made our way south, through Santa Monica and Venice then moved inland again. We were honored to be joined by the family of one of the Boston pilots, and as a family they ran the final eight miles. A we ran up the last steep hill, approaching the airport, an American Airlines MD-80, on final approach to LAX, flew directly ahead of our large crowd, and a roar of appreciation and approval rose to a crescendo. Only the RV was allowed to escort the large group of runners through the upper level of LAX, and the pavements were lined with cheering people who had taken time out of their baggage check-ins and security screening to cheer Old Glory.

By now the group with the flag numbered in the hundreds, and I joined in the run from the runway tunnel underpass for the last two or three miles, to Dockweiler Beach. As we turned onto Imperial Highway, we saw the state and territory flags, and more hundreds of people, many of them in pilot and flight attendant uniforms. We were also joined by a large group of the victims' families and loved ones, who so graciously joined the Run. They were wonderful people who lovingly passed the Flag and the pennants from person to person. Dry eyes were rare.

At Dockweiler Beach, there was a stage set up and representatives from the State of California, the City of Los Angeles, American Airlines, United Airlines, two running organizations and Flagrun originator Mike Burr were all to express what this Flagrun had meant. All of us in the audience appreciated the hard work Mike, the national team and the state teams had put in to make this event come true. It was miraculous.

We then headed over to a reception at the Marriott Hotel for the runners, families and guests. I was honored and humbled to meet some of the family members. They were so kind to me, as I struggled to find words of sympathy. I told them of the love and affection I saw on my short stay with the run, and told them that I hoped it helped. The national team, after some brief words, respectfully folded the flag in a military triangle, and packed it away. It was to be offered to the Smithsonian.

From there I made my way to LAX, to catch the midnight flight to Chicago, and connect home to Michigan. Those four days that I spent with the Run, from Phoenix to Dockweiler beach, are days of remembrance, friendship, fatigue and pride, days that I'll proudly remember the rest of my life.

Mike Davis
AA 767 CA ORD

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