written by Corey Stokes

One act, a simple raffle entry, transformed a race weekend into a series of remarkable connections. If you know anything about me, you know that quiet is my default setting, a bit introverted, much to my dismay. But I’ve worked hard to push beyond those boundaries. Over the years, I’ve deliberately placed myself in situations that demand stepping outside my comfort zone, a process that has yielded unexpected rewards. Last year, while running my first race post-injury, I made a point to engage with people at the staging area. I spoke to fellow runners, a familiar face from a volunteer event, and a vendor promoting a race in Liberty, Missouri. That vendor’s encouragement to enter a raffle, which I won, set the stage for a weekend I won’t soon forget.
My wife and I decided to make the Liberty Jewel 5K and Half Marathon a weekend event. The decision was finalized on the way to Liberty, Missouri, during the three-hour drive from Wichita. And man, was I glad we did. But let me not get ahead of myself.
The Race:

We arrived the night before so we could get a good night’s sleep and be well-rested for the race the next day. We had no idea what we were in for.
We didn’t do anything special other than the normal training for the race, and the day we got into town, we ate at a local restaurant. The food was amazing, by the way. We could smell the grill as soon as we stepped out the car. We woke, dressed, and made our way to William Jewell College to pick up our race packages. While I parked the car, Michelline got us checked in and started to prepare for her race, the half marathon. With the car parked, I set out to join her so I could ensure I got some pictures commemorating her ninth half marathon. Although, I’ll admit I didn’t discover that number until later.
Then local photographers took pictures as the racers lined up, the national anthem was sung, and she was off at 8:00 on the dot. Her goal run time, as we discussed before she started, was to finish with the three-hour group.
Now that she was off and running, it was time for me to mentally prepare for my run. I stretched and did a few warm-up drills…
The bell sounded, and we were off! First, somehow, my run timer was all messed up when I pressed start on my phone. I thought about leaving it and just running with the incorrect settings… but that was not how I trained. While I wasn’t expecting this to be my best 5K ever, I did want it to be better than the race I’d done five months previously. So while we inched closer to the starting line, I hurriedly fixed my timer, then pocketed my phone. I was off. No race starts without some type of malfunction—especially with technology involved.
Second, oh my God! Who puts a hill at the start of the race? I went back and forth during my training on whether or not I’d run my starting five minutes to warm up or walk it. Running it won the debate. So as I turned the first corner and was confronted with the first of many hills of the race, I swore a bit under my breath and said, “What the hell am I doing?”
I finished the race, officially 14 minutes faster than my time in the Salina race. Despite the devastation of all the hills, I’d managed to stick to my race plan, except on one hill. The cheerleaders on the side of the road cheering the runners on helped to motivate me to keep moving. I high-fived each of them as I ran past. 44:46 was my official time crossing the finish line. Not bad for being eight months post-injury. I was happy with my time.
She too had the same experience with the hill; she was definitely not happy. She finished the race 15 minutes slower than she had wanted to. Her official time was 3:15:00! Although she was a bit upset at her finish time, she killed it, and her ninth half marathon was in the books.
Meeting People:
Initial Interactions and Black Men Run:
“I attended the race representing my run group, Black Men Run. Although I am the only member from the Wichita area (that I’ve been able to determine), I promote the organization’s goals everywhere I go. This race was no different.
I looked around and noticed that there were not a lot of black men at the race; in fact, I appeared to be the only one. But then I spotted one other, and my wife encouraged me to go speak—or at minimum, offer a word of luck on his 13-mile run. After a moment’s hesitation, I did just that.
…I noticed a man inching his way towards me. He stood beside me and began to speak… “You know, black people also play basketball… and tennis… hell, they can play anything they want,” he said. I smiled and said, “True,” as he expressed his admiration for my Black Men Run shirt and walked away.
I paced around for a bit, trying to get some of the nervous energy out. I don’t know why, I get nervous before a race, never during a practice run, but only on race day. (I blame Air Force PT test day for the jitters.) But, I noticed a lady looking at me. “I like your shirt,” she said. I explained to her that it was a shirt from my running group and began to tell her about the group. I wasn’t surprised she’d not heard of the group, but she appreciated my explanation of the run group, and we began to speak about our race day goals. Before we parted, we followed each other on Strava.
Not long after, a guy chuckled at me, asking, “Do they now?” I explained the run group and its goals. He asked if anyone else was there. We scanned the crowd, and it was obvious I was the only black face there. “I guess not,” he said.”
Meeting the Mayor:
“A few moments later, this same gentleman brought another runner over to me, “You have to meet this guy, he came in from Wichita, he’s the only black man here,” he said as he introduced me to the Mayor of Liberty. We shook hands and wished each other luck on our upcoming runs. Pretty cool, I thought to myself.”
Connecting with Fellow Runners:
“During the run, I’d passed and been passed by several black runners that I just did not see at the starting line. So, when I was done, I found as many of them as possible and congratulated them on their runs. I also took the opportunity to let them know about the run group. One guy noticed me on the path and asked me about my shirt when I approached him after the run. “#runwithCorey… Who’s Corey?” he asked. I introduced myself and sparked up a conversation.
There was no malice or ill intent in the words of any of these interactions; I welcomed each of them. Everyone was genuinely curious about what I was wearing and surprised they hadn’t noticed the lack of black faces at many races they’ve attended. After the race, one person even commented that many of the races she’d been to were “pretty pale.”
The Til Valhalla Project Connection:
“When I’m not supporting Black Men Run at races, I’m supporting the military community, including some of the organizations that bring awareness to the issues that our veterans face. One such organization is the Til Valhalla Project. They bring awareness to veteran suicide. While none of the veterans I know have died by suicide, I do know family members and friends of those who have. So when I spotted the Til Valhalla T-shirt at the finish line, I walked over to the young lady wearing it and asked if she served in the military. She said she didn’t, but her husband, who died by suicide, served in the Navy. I expressed my condolences, briefly said hi to the friends she was with, and waited for my wife to finish her race.

We walked around for a bit, and I spotted the Til Valhalla T-shirt group, so we headed towards them. This time, we exchanged introductions and talked for the rest of the morning. By the time any of us realized the race was over and cleared away, and the coordinators and volunteers were starting to leave, our two cars were the only ones left on the grass.
From that brief conversation about the TVP shirt, we’d hit it off and made some new friends. It turns out that the group was not a military crew like I’d originally thought but a group of local police detectives. We all went out for lunch and a drink after the race with promises to keep in touch and look to see each other at future races.
Like I said, I was glad to be able to stay an additional night at the hotel that we booked to make our runcation a weekend getaway. By the time we got back to the hotel, we were both exhausted. We laid down and were knocked out for three hours. For me, the weekend was a reminder that stepping outside of my comfort zone could lead to unexpected connections. This race was definitely an event to remember. It was a weekend that proved that sometimes, the most significant victories aren’t measured in miles or minutes, but in the unexpected friendships and experiences forged along the way.”




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