It isn’t every Saturday that we start working at 6:15 in the morning, but on April 20th, it was worth it to be a part of Shelly’s 9th journey to the finish line.
 
35,000 runners is the kind of figure you have to experience in person to appreciate. The crowd was huge, and throbbing with energy. In the commotion, we struggled to meet up with all our camera operators. Cellular signals became jammed because of the high concentration of phones, so communication was spotty at best. Eventually, and with the help of texts, which seemed to work better, we were slowly able to assemble our crew.
 
I doubt we were the only ones there who felt a slight sense of unease because of the very recent marathon bombing in Boston, and there was a moment of silence in remembrance of that event. Not long after the race began, a runner – or perhaps an undercover security officer – asked Dixie whether the equipment we had near the main race area was hers.
 
But fun music and the excitement of the crowd soon drowned out any sense of sadness or fear, and corral by corral, the race began. Distracted by the jubilant chaos and the enormity of the task at hand, I didn’t even notice when Shelly and Jennifer came rolling right by me. When I finally saw them, we were off without a moment to think.
 
In spite of having to push her dad, Jennifer took off with remarkable speed. A regular runner, Jenn would from time to time break into a jog behind the wheelchair. It proved to be a difficult act to follow while carrying ten pounds of camera equipment. By the first mile marker, Jason and I gulped down water from the small cups held out by cheerful volunteers.
 
After a mile or so, we broke off from Jenn and Shelly and took a shortcut to meet them towards the end of the course. Unfortunately, cell phones were our only source of communication, and I tried and failed fourteen times to find out where Jenn was with her father. Finally, I texted my friend Leslie, who was already in Sun Devil Stadium, and asked whether Shelly was in the stadium already. I was shocked when her texts came back: “He is here. Are you by Shelly?” We rushed into the stadium, and found Shelly on his final approach to the finish line.
 
Very quickly, we started capturing footage and in spite of the close call, we were able to capture Shelly’s successful trip across the finish line – on his own two feet – with four different cameras. As Shelly approached the finish line, which is at the 42-yard line of Sun Devil Stadium, the stadium announcer alerted the crowd that Shelly was about to cross. Straining with every step, I was surprised how quickly Shelly made it to the finish line, his daughter not far behind. After his victory, some ASU football players greeted Shelly, wanting to shake his hand.
 
It would be hard not to want to shake his hand. In my case, it was hard not to feel thankful to have experienced Shelly and Jenn’s seventh trip across the finish line together. The opening of the race was full of the chaos of getting people together in a crowd, the earliness of the morning alarm clock to get there, and a tinge of sadness at the tragedy in Boston. The race was long too, with moments of checking media credentials and hauling around heavy equipment on foot. But at the finish line, I felt humbled to have been able to enjoy this moment with Shelly and Jenn. I remembered the hundreds of people who put their energy and resources behind our Kickstarter campaign. As I write this, I am thankful for all of it.