First flight

27

In the week leading up to the NJCAA National Championships our eyes were glued to the weather maps. Hurricane Nicole had boiled up in the Atlantic Ocean. The Category 1 hurricane made landfall the day before our planned arrival, marched across the state to the Gulf of Mexico, then headed north as a tropical storm through Tallahassee, dumping several inches of rain.

Darren sent out the travel schedule, which looked more like the itinerary for a death-metal band on crank than a cross-country running team. The team was to wear their uniform warmups for the trip. We would fly out Thursday evening from Denver. To save on airfare and allow the entire team to go on the trip, Darren had decided to fly from Denver to Pensacola, and then take rental vehicles to Tallahassee, three hours to the east across northern Florida. As soon as the race was over we would jump back into the vehicles and drive back to Pensacola for the flight back, landing in Denver late Saturday evening.

Darren would rent a van for most of the team. Mary, Harrison and I would share a rental car with Blueberry and his dad. Darren asked if Harrison had ever seen the ocean. I said no. “Well, he’s going to get to,” he said — revealing that he’d built in time for a brief stop at Pensacola Beach on the return trip.

Harrison rode on the team bus from Leadville to Denver International Airport. Mary and I left from Westcliffe, parked in a shuttle lot and arrived about an hour ahead of the team, allowing time to walk around and people-watch. It struck me that the process of getting from home and onboard the actual plane was going to take about twice as long as the actual flight to Pensacola. There was music overhead and I broke out in a dance. Mary pretended to not know me.

Darren arrived with the team and we quickly made our way through security, and scooted to board the train to the concourse. We noticed that one member of the women’s team was missing and learned Anne had gotten ill and would not be making the trip.

Harrison’s teammates obviously had the DIA drill down. As they quickly piled on the train Harrison missed the chance to ride with them and threw a screaming fit. We got on the next train and he soon calmed down. Blueberry and his dad suggested we go to one of the airport restaurants for an early dinner. After eating, there was a short wait until we finally boarded the plane.

By now Harrison was really excited. He beamed happily as we took our seats, the plane taxied to the runway and finally rumbled toward takeoff. The sensation of the jet leaving the ground painted an expression of elation and wonderment across his face. Once again a simple experience had made all the challenges along the way seem worthwhile. He watched out the little window as the city below became a sea of glittering lights and we headed into the dark skies to the east. The rest of the flight was entirely uneventful. Harrison watched a movie, looked out his window periodically, and before long we descended into Pensacola with a wing tip toward the shimmering bay.

Soon we were out of the jet and making our way to the rental car desk. On the way we were surprised to find my sister Shelby and her husband George, who live nearby in Navarre, there to welcome us to Florida. They would also be driving over to watch the meet on Saturday. After a brief conversation we said goodbye and soon I was driving a Jeep Wagoneer east to Tallahassee. The highway was wet and I had to shift the windshield wipers through various speeds as we passed through waves of hurricane remnants.

With the time change, we got to bed around 2 a.m. that morning. Harrison had a light cough but I figured it was just from dry air on the plane. We got up early the next morning with time for breakfast in the hotel before previewing the course.

The meet was being held at Apalachee Regional Park, which has a dedicated course specifically designed for cross-country running competitions. The course included grass, sand, mud, uphills and downhills. We previewed the route with an easy jog, eyeing the curve tangents and best lines for the hills. The air felt thick and slightly muggy, almost hot.

The team soon got ahead of me and I was jogging along on my own. That was about when a runner zoomed up next to me with his phone extended, and waved for me to get closer to take a selfie. He ran closer and took the selfie while I managed to not trip over my own feet or his during this endeavor. From my experience coaching Elias and Micah I could tell by his gait he was East African. We chatted a bit. He was running for Butler College in Kansas and said his name was "Rotich." Then he glided away with no effort — and no explanation why he wanted a picture with me. I caught up with him near the starting area and told him now I needed my selfie. The next day Rogers Rotich would place second in the meet.

After previewing the course most of the CMC team wanted to buy commemorative T-shirts and there was a long line. We decided to eat dinner early with Blueberry’s dad and he broke the news that Blueberry was not feeling well and in fact was wrapped in blankets and sweating out a fever in his hotel room.

There was a pre-race banquet at Florida State University that evening. Harrison of course wanted to go with the team so Mary and I tagged along. We felt like chaperones at prom. Most of the student athletes were dressed up for this event held in the posh glassed-in hall above the football stadium. Afterward Darren led the team outside and had them circle up. Each runner was asked to choose another teammate as someone they admired and tell why. Nate chose Harrison, and gave a heartfelt speech about all he had overcome to be here for this meet. I stood nearby in the warmth of the Florida evening, overwhelmed by Nate’s thoughtful words and sense of compassion.

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