Nov. 3, 2 pm-

My wife, son and I met the American and New Mexico flags as they entered Albuquerque. The group running with them arrived early, for reasons I would soon understand. After a period of greetings, photos, and briefings, we took off with our police and Fire Dept. escorts, accompanied by another 20 runners including friends, fellow airline employees, and enthusiastic drop-ins who wanted to take part.

As we took our first strides, spectators cheered and waved and a lump formed in my throat. I was so proud to be carrying this particular flag that represents not only our great country, but the flights, their crews and precious passengers that were now being symbolically carried to their intended destination. I passed the flag to my wife, Queue, a retired United flight attendant, and then to my son, Scott. The 4.4 mile segment passed quickly as each runner took the flag in turn.

We tried to maintain the slow 4 mph pace which would keep us on the published schedule. But each time the flag was handed to a new runner, he or she was propelled by a burst of pride and could not be held back. Along our route we were met with cheers, waving flags, honking horns, broad smiles and salutes. We arrived at the next staging point 25 minutes early!

Later that evening, we three ran again with students from my son's school as the flag was carried to Civic Plaza for ceremonies which included the family of United flight attendant Alfred Marchand of Alamogordo, NM, who crewed Flight 175.

Nov. 5, 9:30 am-

After a day of rest, I rejoined the flag on Hwy. 60 in western NM. I was scheduled just to drive one of the support vehicles but spent the rest of this day and following night alternately running, driving, resting, and meeting the friendly people of Datil, Pie Town, and Quemado, the community of small towns that make up this sparsely populated area.

School children from the youngest to high school volleyball and basketball teams ran with us. A coffee shop waitress lamented that she had failed to sign up for the run. When told she was welcome, she immediately headed home to change clothes, then joined us, running at least 7 miles! (Too bad for the customers.) A young man joined in who ran by planting his crutches, swinging his disabled legs forward, briefly resting his weight on the toes of crooked feet, then swinging the crutches forward again. His school friends only had to slow slightly to accommodate his pace as he completed 100 yd.. or more. Later we climbed rolling hills topping 8000 ft. above sea level, stopping for photos at the Continental Divide and for the hot meal (and pie) provided by the folks in Pie Town.

Besides the many American Airlines pilots, flight attendants and a passenger service agent from Albuquerque, Denver, and Park City, UT, we ran with volunteers from Santa Fe and El Paso, a United pilot from Denver, and an Air Force officer from Cannon AFB. As we ran in pairs, carrying the two flags, we chatted, enjoyed the pine tree covered mountains and rock formations, or just sailed silently with the breeze, lost in our own thoughts. Many who were scheduled to complete their segments along the way decided to travel through the night to complete the mission to the Arizona border. The spirit of the flag pulled us forward.

At 6:00 am, we reached the border, walking the last 100 yards as a phalanx of more that 25, stretching the full width of moonlit Highway 60. Our Catron County Sheriff's Dept. escorts joined us as Capt. Dee Friesen made the appropriate remarks of greeting to the Arizona delegation and handed the American flag to Flight Attendant Dusty Mirly Steedman who led us in the Pledge of Allegiance. I could only mouth the words as the lump had returned to my throat and I could not speak.

She passed the flag to a member of the Gila County (AZ) Fire Dept. who began his run. I stood in the center of the highway and watched the flag slowly disappear into the western darkness, destination Los Angeles.

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