Without question, I am an old, bold pilot. I am also “The Running Man.” I began to set world records at age ninety, which garnered a fair amount of attention. I have gained more notoriety for my running than for flying airplanes. As one of the oldest competitors in the world, I am an object of curiosity and a source of inspiration. Plenty of people are probably surprised to see me on the track instead of shuffling around with a walker. They don’t know I’m an old, bold pilot accustomed to pushing the limits, embracing the challenges, taking chances (which I prefer to call calculated risks), and moving forward when I am expected to stand still.
The first time I went up in an airplane, at age eleven, I took a chance on a barnstormer who came to our town. My mother might have been worried about kidnapping or a crash landing, but I gave the stranger with the flying machine every penny in my piggy bank for a fifteen-minute ride. Even at that young age, I had faith that God watched over me and wouldn’t let me make a choice I would regret.
When I instructed pilots during World War II and prepared them to fly in defense of our country, I had to push the limits of my endurance nearly every day. Working incredibly long hours, we had to take risks and break rules to churn out enough pilots to beat Hitler and the Japanese.
Under these dire circumstances and others, I calculated the risks and took them. I brought a great deal of knowledge and experience into the cockpit when I flew small aircraft all over the world for JAARS (Jungle Aviation and Radio Service). Whenever I took off from Honolulu flying a small airplane across the Pacific headed for tiny islands like Majuro or Tarawa, I faced fifteen or more hours of flying time.
I embraced the challenge when I fell in love with a young woman before she fell in love with me. Esther Beth Shannon and I became friends when we were both still teenagers at the University of Oklahoma. She had a boyfriend at the time, but I sensed he would not last long. Instead of playing by the rules, moving on, and finding somebody else, I took a chance on her and waited patiently.
When Beth and I had our first child, I knew very little about being a father. Mine left us when I was six years old, and our stern and unaffectionate grandfather raised my sister and me. Those two men were the only models I had, but I didn’t settle for being a fatherless child. At age ten, I chose a different kind of father: my heavenly Father. He taught me all I know about loving and guiding the family Beth and I made together.
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Thank you for sharing your wonderfully inspiring story!! Lots of wisdom is shared by Orville and I know that you will keep running!