The morning started with cool air and gray skies hanging over Shawnee while riders enjoyed the
last few comfortable hours before the humidity finally caught up to us later in the day.
The weather almost felt misleading at first. Cool air drifted through the parking lot while gray
clouds covered the sunrise and kept the temperatures comfortable for the first part of the ride.
Riders actually got to enjoy those early morning miles without immediately feeling cooked inside
riding jackets. But everybody knew it would not last forever. Somewhere further east, the
humidity was waiting patiently for us.
Before the sun even fully came up, hotel parking lots were already alive with motorcycle
engines, radio chatter, coffee runs, and riders trying to convince themselves they were fully
awake. Some people looked ready to conquer the day. Others looked like they were surviving
entirely on caffeine and vibes.
Honestly, most of us were probably somewhere in the middle.
Before the morning meeting, church services were held for riders wanting a peaceful start
before another long day eastbound. Meanwhile, Walmart turned into temporary Run For The
Wall headquarters as riders wandered the aisles hunting breakfast sandwiches, ibuprofen, beef
jerky, rain gear they forgot they packed, and enough energy drinks to medically concern at least
three doctors and a cardiologist.
Back outside, headlights slowly filled the parking lot as platoons lined up row by row. Chrome
reflected off damp pavement while conversations floated through the cool morning air. Some
riders refreshed weather radar apps every five seconds while others joked about how long it
would take before the humidity humbled all of us.
Then came the prayer.
Then the announcements.
Then everybody’s favorite words.
“Kickstands up.
”
And just like that, the quiet morning exploded into the sound of hundreds of motorcycles rolling
east together out of Shawnee.
There is honestly nothing like hearing that many bikes come alive at once. You do not just hear
it. You feel it.
The first fuel stop came quickly, but like every stop on this route, it became way more than just
gas pumps and snacks. Local law enforcement helped escort Midway safely through towns and
intersections while firefighters, first responders, and community members stood outside wavingflags as the pack rolled through. At nearly every stop, people gathered just to watch the
motorcycles arrive, thank riders for the mission, or simply show support however they could.
And somehow, no matter how many towns we pass through, it is still surprising to see how
many people come out just to support the mission and welcome us into their communities.
As the miles stretched east, riders slowly melted into the rhythm of the road. Fuel stops became
places to stretch sore backs, refill hydration packs, clean windshields absolutely destroyed by
bugs, and laugh through the exhaustion. Somewhere between Oklahoma and Arkansas,
strangers had fully turned into family.
The second fuel stop honestly felt more like a reunion than a gas station.
That is Midway magic.
By the time Midway rolled into Russellville for lunch, clouds still hovered overhead while the air
slowly started feeling heavier. Lunch was set up outdoors, and the smell of southern cooking
reached riders before most of us even had our kickstands down. After hours on the highway,
people practically floated toward the serving lines. Volunteers piled plates high with fried
chicken, mac and cheese, coleslaw, rolls, and homemade desserts that tasted like they came
straight out of somebody’s grandmother’s kitchen. The banana pudding ended up being one of
the biggest hits of the entire meal, and honestly, I completely understand why.
For a little while, riders stood around outside laughing, swapping stories, comparing bug
collections on windshields, and soaking in the kind of hospitality that makes Run For The Wall
impossible to explain unless you experience it yourself.
Set up nearby during lunch were the brothers of Captain James Wayne Herrick Jr., known as
Jim, who went missing in Laos in 1969 while serving during the Vietnam War. Paul and Jerry
spent time talking with riders and handing out patches in honor of their brother and his memory.
And even without a microphone or formal speech, the weight of it was still felt.
Because suddenly the mission becomes incredibly real.
Not statistics.
Not names in history books.
Not something distant from the past.
A brother.
A son.
A family still waiting for answers.
Those are the moments that stay with riders long after the engines shut off for the night.Eventually, reality returned, engines fired back to life, and Midway launched east once again
toward Forrest City.
And that is when the humidity finally decided to make itself known.
The afternoon air turned thick and heavy while dark storm clouds slowly built beside the
interstate. Riding jackets suddenly felt much warmer, fuel stops became hydration stops, and
every little patch of shade started looking like luxury real estate.
By the end of the afternoon, riders were sweaty, bug covered, road tired, and probably operating
on at least 15% banana pudding.
As Midway entered Forrest City, local law enforcement once again helped escort the pack safely
through town while supporters lined portions of the route waving flags as motorcycles rolled past
in formation.
Dinner waited at Ridgewood Baptist Church where Mayor Larry Bryant welcomed the riders and
thanked everyone for carrying the mission across the country. The church provided a huge
Popeyes dinner for the entire route with over 900 pieces of chicken along with all the fixings
waiting for riders after nearly 400 miles on the road.
And after a full day riding, that chicken absolutely disappeared.
Christian artist Eric Horner closed out the evening with live music that turned a room full of
exhausted riders into something that honestly just felt special. Riders sang along together,
people swayed side to side with arms around friends they had only met days earlier, and for a
little while nobody seemed worried about the miles waiting for us tomorrow morning. Helmets
sat stacked beside tables while laughter, music, and voices singing together echoed through the
church.
Stories were told.
Road grime was worn proudly.
And another day of Midway memories was officially in the books.
Day 5 reminded everyone once again that Run For The Wall has never just been about
motorcycles.
It is about the people standing outside waving flags in the heat.
The first responders helping protect every mile.
The volunteers feeding hundreds of strangers like family.
The families still waiting after decades.
And the riders carrying those stories mile after mile toward Washington, D.C.
Goodnight from Midway, where friendships form fast and banana pudding disappears faster.
— Guess Again 2 (Natalie Fielding)
Due to circumstances beyond our control, Midway Route Photos from previous runs are no longer available. 