On a remote stretch of U.S. Route 20, somewhere between Richfield and Utica, New York, Helene Neville slows her pace to take a breather. She is in the middle of a 25-mile run. At this point, she has put nearly 500 miles between her and her starting point in St. Stephen, New Brunswick, Canada, where she began her quest May 1. Her westward steps will ultimately lead her toward Ocean Shores, Washington, by early September.

Neville’s coast-to-coast trek this summer marks the final stretch of her solo, unsupported journey tracing the perimeter of the country. For the last five years, save for a stretch between 2011 and 2012, she has completed one section of the distance at a time. For the remainder of the year when she isn't running, she works as a nurse and motivational speaker.

Crashing on strangers’ couches, in her car, or, for one unusual evening, in an unoccupied room at an assisted living center, Neville has relied on others to help her complete each effort. A typical day consists of driving her “sag wagon” loaded with her belongings to the next segment’s finish line. Then her newfound friends, who had put her up in their house the night before, will drive her back to where she’d left off the day before. For the next five to six hours, she’ll run the distance back to her car, carrying all the supplies she needs in a backpack.

This leap-frogging process has taken her from Ocean Beach, California, to Atlantic Beach, Florida, in 2010, from Vancouver to Tijuana, Mexico, in 2013, and from Marathon, Florida, to Maine in 2014. She’s in the midst of her final leg now.

For the 54-year-old from Las Vegas, the reasons behind why she’s chosen to cover a total of 9,715 miles over the course of more than 330 nonconsecutive days are deeply personal.

An 800-meter runner in high school, Neville admitted she never really considered herself a lover of long distances. That fact was true until 1998, when she signed up for the Chicago Marathon on a whim.

Five years earlier, Neville was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma, a form of cancer that affects the immune system. In the years between her diagnosis and the day she registered for the marathon, she endured three brain surgeries and numerous rounds of chemotherapy and radiation treatments.

“I was not in a great state of heath, and I wasn’t sure if I would get better or keep having relapses,” said Neville. Finishing the marathon, she said, was a means to prove her tenacity against the disease.

Her weakened body was only able to muster a total of six training runs; her longest run just six miles. But on race day, she lined up anyway. She remembers standing in the corral, listening to other runners trade stories about the training they’d just completed.

“I just stood there praying that no one would ask me what my method was,” she said.

Accustomed to spending eight hours on her feet at her nursing job, Neville figured she could finish in five hours.

Bolstered by the crowds, she crossed the line in 4:28.

Come the following summer, Neville was in remission. To make sure Chicago wasn’t “a fluke,” she ran the San Diego Marathon. She chased that effort with 23 more marathons.

So when Neville set off for her first transcontinental run from Ocean Beach, on May 1, 2010, heading toward Atlantic Beach, Florida, her main mission was to inspire others to “rethink the impossible.”

“There are so many people in every corner of every town who want to be a part of something,” Neville said. “Impossible to them obviously is not running around the perimeter, but it might be changing their diet or simply getting off the couch. I hope people see that the playing field wasn’t level for me when I started, and I’m still out here [running].”

Along the way, she makes pit stops at hospitals, schools, cancer centers, and fire and police stations, telling her story while using her experience in the medical field to advocate for wellness.

“As health professionals, we’re in the position to improve the health of the nation,” she said. “To do that, we need to improve the health of the citizens. People come to us for help, so I believe we should walk the walk of health, too.”

She’s also used the time alone on the asphalt to cope with her own difficulties. During her first trek, she grieved the loss of her mother. Her cancer returned the following year, forcing her to postpone her second expedition for two years. Then in February 2013, her brother passed away. She carried his ashes in an urn in her backpack for her 1,500-mile run a few months later.

And while she hopes her journey will instill ambition in others, she said she has drawn inspiration from the individuals she’s met along the way, too.

“I set out to deliver happiness and hope on foot,” she said. “[I’ve learned that] we’re different but nobody’s better. I think that the human spirit is totally alive and well, you just have to be on the lookout. I’m trying to expose what’s right about the country. The inspiration has come full circle.”

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