Marching for the 22: A Community Walk for Veterans’ Mental Health

October 16, 2025

By Brian Hews

In the quiet, early minutes after midnight on Saturday, October 11, a small group gathered in Chino, tightened pack straps, and stepped off into the dark. They were beginning a 31-mile ruck march—boots on pavement, weighted packs on their backs—in a living tribute to the estimated 22 U.S. veterans a day lost to suicide. Led by veteran Gus Arenas in memory of a fallen friend, the Annual Ruck March for Veterans turns a hard statistic into human footsteps, one mile at a time, so the number can no longer hide in abstraction.

A ruck march is simple and demanding. Participants carry weight—often 20 to 40 pounds—to mirror the physical strain service members know well, and to underline the mental load too many carry alone after they come home. The miles are intentionally long. The pace is steady, not hurried. The point is presence: to be seen, to be heard, and to remind veterans that their community will walk the road beside them.

“The number 22 isn’t just symbolic; it is a call to action,” State Senator Bob Archuleta of told Los Cerritos Community News. “While research may vary on the exact numbers, whether it’s 22 veterans a day or one every 22 minutes, what remains undeniable is that suicide continues to impact our veteran and military communities. We must continue to raise awareness, represent those who are struggling, and ensure our veterans receive the support and assistance they deserve.”

As dawn broke, the column grew. Veterans marched alongside active-duty service members and civilians of every age who joined for a few miles or the final stretch, offering water, snacks, and encouragement. Around 11:30 a.m., boots finally crossed the finish at Rio’s Pizza in Montebello. Packs came off. New blisters were compared like old war stories. People swapped numbers and promised to check on each other well past the finish line, which is, organizers say, the real point of the day.

This year’s closing leg covered roughly 4.1 miles, beginning at San Gabriel River Parkway and the 605 Freeway bridge on Beverly Boulevard in Pico Rivera. Elected officials, including Senator Archuleta, Whittier Mayor Joe Vinatieri, Pico Rivera Mayor Johnny Garcia, and Montebello Mayor Sal Melendez, joined residents for the final push. Their presence underscored a basic truth of prevention work: when leaders show up, more neighbors do too, and that visibility makes it easier for struggling veterans to raise a hand.

The march is part memorial, part message, and part mobilization. Participants said the weighted miles spark the kinds of conversations that are hard to start in a living room but flow on an open road—about sleepless nights, survivor’s guilt, the transition home, and the complicated pride of service. The route itself becomes a moving support group, and the finish line a reminder that what begins as a tribute must continue as a network of check-ins, coffee meet-ups, and phone calls when someone goes quiet.

Pico Rivera Councilman Erik Lutz told LCCN, “I was honored to take part in this march for the second year in a row — walking in remembrance of those we’ve lost and in support of those still fighting silent battles. Our veterans are never alone. Help and hope are always within reach through our local Veterans Resource Centers in Pico Rivera and Whittier.”

Organizers emphasized that the walk does not replace clinical care; it opens the door to it. The goal is to connect veterans with one another, with local advocates, and with resources so support continues after the banners come down. They encouraged participants to carry the spirit of the ruck into everyday life by learning warning signs, sharing vetted hotlines, and normalizing help-seeking as a mark of strength, not weakness.

If you or a veteran you love is struggling, immediate help is available by calling or texting 988 and pressing 1 for the Veterans Crisis Line, or by chatting via VeteransCrisisLine.net. Trained responders, many of them veterans themselves, are available 24/7.

The Annual Ruck March for Veterans remains, at heart, a promise kept in public. It says to those we have lost, we remember. It says to those still fighting, we are here. And it says to the rest of us that awareness is not an end state but a starting gun—one that sounds at 12:01 a.m., when the road is dark, the packs are heavy, and the only way forward is together.