‘Perseverance in the face of unusual difficulties’: Spokane local recognized for unyielding spirit through tragedy

A snapshot of Isaac Morris’ current life might show a promising young man, near graduation from a prestigious school and dedicated captain of the cross country team. But the past few years in his life have been marred by tragedy .

In November of his freshman year at West Point, Morris’ mother, Emily Ross, died in a four-car collision near Deer Park, as reported by The Spokesman-Review last year. Her death was ruled a suicide.

Around the same time, the Spokane native’s father called, saying that he had been diagnosed with terminal leukemia and had six months to live. Following a frightening year and a half of chemotherapy, Joe Morris went into remission and is “doing pretty well right now,” said Isaac Morris, a cadet at the U.S. Military Academy.

Then, at the beginning of his junior year, Isaac Morris’ older brother, Daniel Morris, died by suicide in his home.

Isaac Morris chose to power through it all, rather than take time off to grieve.

“A lot of people were like, ‘Isaac, just take a year and figure out stuff at home with your family,’ ” he said. “I decided against that and just decided to keep pursuing my own work and figuring things out over on the East Coast, ‘cause I didn’t think there was much I could do at home for a year.”

An embodiment of stick-to-itiveness, Isaac Morris was awarded the Henry O. Flipper award in February.

The award, named for West Point’s first Black graduate in 1877, is annually presented to one senior at the academy for their success and “perseverance in the face of unusual difficulties.”

Despite having an inkling that he might receive the award, Morris couldn’t quite believe he had been chosen until the plaque was in his hands.

“It wasn’t until I was standing up there with the award that I was like, ‘Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I’m being recognized for this,’ ” he said. “To me, it was humbling, because I couldn’t have gotten to that spot in that moment without everybody who has helped me along the way.”

Morris talked to counselors at the academy after the deaths, who he credited with helping him embrace his belief in Buddhist philosophies.

“Everybody lives, everybody dies. Life keeps on going no matter what, and you have to kind of find the small joys throughout your days and stay on that happier end of the spectrum,” he said.

In a twist of fate, two of Isaac Morris’ best friends also lost their parents around the same time that his mother died. Having people who truly understood what he was going through meant that he had spaces to talk about his grief.

“They just kind of fell into my lap as people I could just lean on to understand,” he said. “These are the guys that if I call, they’ll be like, ‘All right, I’ll be in your room in, like, two minutes’ or whatever.”

On equal footing with his friends and spirituality, Isaac Morris credits his long-time hobby of running as being an outlet.

He began cross country during his freshman year at North Central High School under coach Jon Knight.

“I was horrendous. I was a bad runner,” he said. “But I eventually ended up placing fourth in state as a senior there.”

Knight, who coached at North Central from the early 1990s until 2020, described Isaac Morris as “one of the toughest kids I ever had.” He recounted one race where he lost a shoe early on, but pushed on without it.

“It’s a two-lap course – 5K – and he continued on and ran the whole thing barefoot with one shoe on, one shoe off over the rocks,” Knight said. “He’s completely bruised and cut up his foot and didn’t lose any places – In fact, I think he was gaining ground in the second half – and placed in the ribbons.

“Just amazing show of how he could just sort of put his head down and go in a way that most athletes never could do.”

When Isaac Morris began at West Point, he suffered an injury during his first cross country season but held tightly to the sport – something not everyone could do. Morris, who is now captain of the team, watched as members left one after another.

“One person got kicked out for academics, another person left because West Point wasn’t for him. And then more and more people just kept leaving the team because they couldn’t handle the workload or it just wasn’t for them,” he said. “I was the only senior left on the cross country team, leading just a bunch of younger guys.”

But those athletes who stuck around are some of the key reasons Morris remains so invested in the sport. Running has a rich culture no matter where you go, he said.

“You have to be a little crazy to run 16 miles every Sunday, and you definitely see it in the people that run cross country. They’re a little goofy, lots of character,” he said. “I think they’re willing to go in, above and beyond for each other, and there’s just this kind of mutual understanding between runners, it feels like.”

Knight, whom Morris has retained contact with over the years, said that Morris’ success in college running is a testimony to the “grit and determination that he has.”

When hard times began rolling in to his life, Morris’ teammates treated him the same as ever – joking around and poking fun at him.

“Just having their humor, it helped a lot,” he said. “They inspired me every day. I would call them my role models – each and every one of my teammates. Every day I get to run with them, I get to run with my role models.”

Morris will graduate this year, putting an end to his eligibility for the National Collegiate Athletic Association.

He will intern for the academy’s athletics department for six months before entering a three-year assignment as a military police officer at the Schofield Barracks in Hawaii.

Beyond those plans, the future is wide open, with two certainties: running independently, and a blossoming passion for mental health advocacy.

“I’ve just kind of been thinking a lot about suicide and mental health since all of this happened, and it kind of makes me an advocate for some sort of platform for trying to help people who are dealing with negative emotions or depression or things like that,” he said.

He has toyed with the idea of becoming a teacher – a profession his mother and grandfather shared. Morris said that ultimately, he would like to return to live in Spokane again.

“I know teachers have profound impacts, like I think about my high school teachers all the time – they were just amazing at North Central,” he said. “I think in life, everything is connected and entangled in some way, and I think I have a lot to give back and a lot to share with everybody if I am able to ever come back to Spokane, or go back to West Point even and maybe teach there.”