It has been one week since I set foot in the Pacific Ocean and I am about as far away from the cool sea breezes and crashing waves that I could possibly be. After taking a trip to San Francisco, kayaking with the the sea otters in Monterey Bay, and hugging a Giant Sequoia, we blew out a tire in Death Valley. Of all the places a tire could go flat I couldn’t imagine a worse location then below sea level in a vast valley of rocks and 120 degree temperatures. I am watching a man change the tire at this moment, and sweating like a race horse. Having a a tire man drive into Death Valley on an emergency call is not cheap,  which brings me to my final plea.

   I have several charities that I was running for on this trip, Run Diabetes Run and World Hunger Year. I really would love to give a nice contribution in the name of my run for each of them. Also, after four months of running thirty miles every day rehabilitation is not only needed for my legs, but also for my checking account. If you have been meaning to give but thought it was too late, it is not at all. I will be waiting until September 1st before I send out a check to my charities, so even the smallest amounts could add up to a lot.

   As far as the trip goes, I am still mulling it over. Four months is such a long time and it is difficult to put it all into prospective. It all flows together into one big epic struggle with my mind and body. I will always carry with me the images of flowing streams, bucolic fields, and towering mountains. There were the days where the wind was so strong I felt like I was standing still, and then there were the days I clipped right along feeling great. It is hard to explain, but no matter if running was easy or hard, I feel like I had a personal glimpse at what this country truly is.

   I had a rare chance to see things on the side of our nations roads that most people glance at as they are rushing by at 70 miles an hour, or that they aren’t able to notice at all. The way the sun sets crimson and gold over the mountains in Utah, a family of river otters barreling down a hill in Indiana, cows following me along a fence as I run by, or horses running and playing in a dusty field in Nevada. I also came to understand how small a single person is when compared to the whole picture. Running down a freeway less than ten steps from traffic helps a person understand that there are so many people in this world, and that life is really fragile.

   I saw the good and the bad, along with the absolutely amazing. I am reminded of the time I got lost on the back roads of West Virginia and a family brought me into their home and gave me a tour of their huge old victorian house, or of the day a group of cyclists spent the night talking with us in the RV when we were in the middle of nowhere Colorado. Both happened on this trip, but they seemed to have happened in different life-times, far removed from each other and from now. Time stops running normally when you are running for eight hours every day, and every night is spent in a different place. I think that is why it is hard to come to terms with the fact that I have RUN ACROSS THE ENTIRE USA!! It is really difficult to comprehend.

   Just driving back to Wyoming seems to be taking forever, and to think that I stepped on every foot of ground from sea to shining sea. I am officially the tenth woman ever to cross by foot, and the eighth to run the whole way.

   I have been blessed by good health and amazing family and friends to be able to accomplish this, and no matter what adventures life brings, I have gone down in the record books for running over 3,000 miles in less than four months. I have enjoyed hearing from some of those who followed me on my journey, and I am happy that my photos and journal provided some insight into a part of our country not everyone has been able to experience. Hopefully some inspiration to see this country is a result, so get out there and run!