When the flag run idea first came over my husband’s e-mail (he’s a pilot for American), I instantly signed up. The spirit in which the flag would be run across America, harkened back to times, when individuals really felt like they could make a difference. It seemed a concrete way in which I could show my support for the “heart” of America.

I read several e-mail accounts of the run as the flag made it’s way across America. I found myself crying. I’m not normally emotional, and found the tears hard to explain. As the days came closer to the day I would run, I found myself worrying about little things, like would I really be able to hold a flag and run four miles. I didn’t want to let anyone down, most of all myself. My husband who would be flying that same morning, had a dream that I arrived early to our set meeting place, but so had the flag and I had to run it all by myself. My children, 9, 8, and 5 were excited. I tried to explain the symbolism surrounding the flag and the run. When I asked them if they understood, their only question was, “Will you carry the flag?”

Runners who had signed up to do Leg 60 received an e-mail to meet at the corner of San Vicente and Ocean Boulevard in Santa Monica at 10:30 on Sunday morning. We were told about sixteen of us had signed up to run, to bring our waivers and to introduce ourselves to the others. Arriving promptly at 10:30, there were already people standing around. It was a rainy morning, which is atypical of most sunny California mornings in November. I always think of the rainy season starting in December and finishing in April. The rest of the country for the run, had mostly good weather, why did California, the one place associated with splendid weather have rain? Then I thought, maybe the rain is tears from God for all the victims lost. We introduced ourselves to the different runners. We all had different reasons for being there. One man was a furloughed pilot for American, several had heard about the run and wanted to be part of it, others came to show support.

After about a twenty-minute wait, the police cars with siren’s flashing came down San Vicente. A group of about fifteen runners followed the car. One person in front was carrying the flag. Another person was carrying a stick with black ribbons on it representing the crewmembers who had perished in the September 11, attack. I started crying. I cried for the people who died. I cried for all the people whose lives were changed and those whose lives were about to be changed forever. I cried for the loss of innocence that our country felt on September 11. I cried because the world my children are going to grow up in won’t be the secure isolated one I grew up in. I cried with the country and the sky cried, too. Another runner came up and asked if I was going to be okay. I nodded my head, “yes.”

The running group waved us to join them. We fell into the pace and something magical happened. All of a sudden we were strong, we represented hope, we were part of the good that this county represents. I started smiling. We ran along Ocean Boulevard in Santa Monica. From the cliffs, you can see the Pacific Ocean. Most people out on a Sunday morning weren’t aware of what our band was about. This was an event that didn’t get the Public Relations that many lesser do. There were no name stars touting the flag run, no major politicians advocating it. This was a resolve that meant each individual could make a difference.

We ran, talking, passing the flag. I was handed the flag, a large flag on a long pole. It wasn’t heavy, I could’ve carried it four miles. I could’ve carried it more. I felt the strength of all the hands and hearts of every person who touched the flag in the trip across the country from Boston to Los Angeles. All of a sudden I heard someone shout, “Mommy!” I looked and saw my three children, clapping and cheering with pride. Then we passed them, and continued down the road. I passed the flag to another person, and I moved back to support the next person carrying the flag.

As we met the next group of runners in Venice, we waved them to join us and handed the flag on. I would’ve liked to run all the way to the airport, but I needed to collect my kids, so I dropped out, knowing others who would keep the resolve going had replaced me. My children’s first question was, “Was the flag heavy?” I honestly told them, “No.” Their next question was, “Can I do it next time?” I hoped I answered them honestly when I said, “I think this will be the only time a flag is run all the way across the country because things will change and we won’t need to do it again.”

Sue Larson Pascoe
Pacific Palisades, Ca.

Click on the Links Below to Visit Our Sponsors Registered Event Promoters