BI man finishes cross-nation run for mental health

When Greg Nance of Bainbridge Island ran through Ocean Shores at sunset July 17, he was surprised to find the street lined with people cheering him on and giving him high-fives.

He completed the last mile to the Pacific Ocean on his run across America that began April 25.

After 84 days running 3,156 miles through 14 states, Nance stood silently as waves lapped at his ankles. With outstretched arms facing the fading sun, he savored the view he’d been dreaming of for more than 10 years, and gave thanks for having reached his destination.

Nance had finished the longest ultramarathon of his life, which tested his physical limits, challenged his sobriety and his mental fortitude to raise awareness of youth mental health. So far, he has raised more than $108,844 for the Run Far Foundation. It gives $100, $200 and $500 grants to youth ages 13-23 for community building projects nationwide to help young people find purpose, have fun and stay healthy.

When Nance dipped his toe into the Atlantic Ocean on Long Island and began running west, he hoped to average 47 miles a day and looked forward to meeting people along the way to talk about youth mental health.

The first 120 miles from New York to Philadelphia were the easiest, but when he entered Philly on day three, he developed plantar fasciitis and a swollen Achilles tendon. He was in a lot of pain and “that was a taste of the challenges to come,” Nance said.

Though Nance has been ultra running for 11 years, Yoshua Kohrs, his “body mechanic,” had to use pressure point therapy, stretching exercises and Epsom salt baths to treat Nance’s injuries, but the pain was intense and persistent.

“In Philadelphia, I had to stop and change shoes,” and they felt so good that Nance ran 1,400 miles on that pair and the next pair, too. He only used three of the six pairs of shoes he brought with him for the trip.

Over the next couple of weeks, Nance endured more setbacks. “It was like whack a mole,” taking care of different problems, he said.

On day 14, he dealt with blisters and back spasms because he was overcompensating for the ankle pain, and on day 35 he woke up with night sweats that he thinks was an emergency inflammation purge response to all that his body was facing. But, he didn’t take any days off. “I felt frustrated and disappointed, but it was an obstacle that we needed to get through,” Nance said.

To deal with it, he “kept showing up” and averaged 37.5 miles a day. One day he only ran five miles, but that was because of tornado warnings and a need to get to safety.

On the run, Nance faced three big mountain chains, the Appalachians, the Rockies and the Cascades. The Appalachians were the toughest as he struggled with his injuries while climbing 3,200 feet of steep ups and downs and faced several days of pounding rain and wind.

The most challenging leg was in South Dakota, where his ankle tendonitis was so debilitating that he couldn’t move it up or down without sharp pain. “The idea of putting my heel down felt impossible,” he said.

Even putting on his shoes and socks was excruciating, and he couldn’t sleep because any movement of his ankle was unbearable. He covered 480 miles, or about 17 marathons, through South Dakota by running in a dog paddle manner that he called the “Seattle Shuffle” to keep his ankle immobilized while running.

He was hurting so badly that he came face-to-face with his past addiction to painkillers. “I had really big cravings to pick up a bottle of ibuprofen, take half the bottle, and no one will ever know,” Nance said.

On day 38, Nance celebrated reaching the halfway point. In an Instagram post, he admitted to his followers how much the craving for painkillers was weighing on him.

But he didn’t give in. His own determination and friends and family made the difference. “I had an amazing support team with me and encouragement from friends all around the world. All those good vibes and prayers started working and slowly, but surely my ankle started coming back and by the edge of Montana, I was starting to feel like myself again.”

Nance’s ankle was feeling better, but the weather was dangerous. On day 49, he was within 10 miles of tornado and thunderstorms and saw thousands of lightning strikes before the support truck picked him up just in time to dodge baseball-sized hail. That storm led to devastating floods that washed out homes and roads in Yellowstone.

Two days later, a friend from BI, Reba Ferguson visited him on the road, which buoyed his spirits.

Visitors started coming out to greet him. On the Northern Cheyenne Indian Reservation, he met four boys and talked about basketball. He also met tribal elder Cedric Fighting Bear, who is connecting with kids, sharing lessons and tribal stories to help them find the inner strength to navigate life’s obstacles in the face of depression, alcohol abuse, drug overdoses and suicides.

By the time he reached the Rockies, Nance had less than 1,000 miles to go, but again he was challenged. “There are actually 79 different ranges. It’s beautiful and amazing, but it’s tough psychologically,” said Nance, who climbed to the summit at 6,100 feet. “It just never stops.”

Before cresting the Continental Divide, a Marine combat veteran named Montana Mike joined Nance for the final 12 miles to the top.

On day 66, at 2,500 miles, Nance’s support team members Kohrs and Elise Telford, logistics and storyteller, left the expedition, and Nance teamed with Roc Powell, an ultramarathoner who ran across America in 2015.

When Nance reached Idaho, his 69-year-old father, Mike, ran with him through the Panhandle to the Washington border. Later, his mother, brother, sister and friends joined him at different intervals. Finally, the lonely days of open road were over, and he felt drawn “like a magnet” to the ocean.

On day 80, he passed through Seattle and picked up some running buddies who followed him to Pier 62, where a large group of friends and family welcomed him.

While passing through Des Moines, a runner named Alom recognized Nance from the news and ran with him for five miles and shared his story of growing up in Eritrea, Africa, living in a refugee camp and immigrating to the U.S. He now runs a logistics company and helps people in recovery and rebuilding their life after incarceration.

As Nance neared the end of his run, he remembered all the special people he’d met along the way; the Amish kid in Pennsylvania who left home to hike the Appalachian Trail and the deputy in rural Ohio who’s working with kids because there are few teachers, coaches or pastors to help. And he remembered the owner of Fat Ted’s Diner in Ohio who donated all the money he had in his register even though he’s struggling to keep his restaurant open.

“I found this country to be big and beautiful and amazing. There’s a ton of diversity and yet, every one of us actually wants what’s best for our family, and what’s best for our community. And I’m really glad that we can be a small part of helping people to talk about the challenges of mental illness, mental health and addiction recovery. When we’re able to talk about stuff, we realize we’re not alone,” Nance said.

On July 17, when he was about 20 miles from Ocean Shores, he started seeing cars driving out to find him. He knew something was going on, but didn’t realize the extent of what was waiting for him. Entering the city limits, hundreds of people were there. Some ran alongside with him, some rode bikes and a fire truck escorted him to the beach.

Friends, family and strangers celebrated his arrival with hugs and photos.

“We were kind of like this little spark in a community where we got people talking, and there’s a little write-up in the paper and the local news. All of a sudden, people are talking about something they wouldn’t have, and maybe a parent and a child, or a coach and a player, or a pastor and a parish are able to talk through something that would have been harder without that little spark,” Nance said.

Team “body mechanic” Yoshua Kohrs kept Nance running when he was struggling with tendonitis and other injuries sustained while running 10-12 hours a day.