I have done moto runs since then though, got some buddies and we do 5 mile moto runs, its so much fun cuz your talking shit the whole time. its a good thing.
Mile 1:
start running in formation. its easy. Wind on our backs, sun is on its westward decline, and all is well.
almost get hit by a car, but thats par for the course in Miami. Remember to control your breathing, your doin good.
First stop/end of Mile 1:
Stop in parking lot. Push up position. 10 diamond, 1o regular, 10 wide. No Sandbagging. get up. Strech your legs.
Form up.
Mile 2:
Remember to breathe. Sound fucking off when doing a cadence. Dont fucking slow down. If the guy in front of you starts to slow down, push him. Dont fucking quit. Dont slow down motherfuckers.
Ignore the pain in your calfs. Ignore the slight ache in your chest. Almost at the second stop.
Stop 2:
Leg lifts, git your fucking legs 6 inches off the ground. Dont fuck around. Dont sandbag. keep the count.
Get your crunches. at least 30 in 1 minute. Dont give up. Body Builders, only 10 at this stop. Keep the count. Jump as high as you can at the end.
Form Up.
Mile 3:
Ignore everything. The honking and sidewalk. Ignore the trees cutting your arms. The seargeant screaming behind you fades out. you hear the words but you dont remember them afterward. they take over your brain functions. Thought stops. You stare at the head in front of you. You hear your breathing, you hear your feet. The burning in your muscles fades. your in the zone.
Stop 3:
Zone abruptly ends. Pain surges through your body as you stop. Back in push up position. 10 diamond, 10 regular, 10 wide. Strech a bit. Form up.
Mile 4:
you try in vain to remember how you got into the zone. Your breathing cant keep up with the oxygen your body needs. Your seargeant keeps telling you to control your breathing, but for some reason you cant remember how. Your calfs feel like they are on fire. Your legs feel as if they are either concrete or jello. your abs ache, your shoulders burn. you can feel a decent farmer tan start to take shape.
Stop 4:
Leg Lifts, sizzor kicks, and body builders. You stop caring. Your mucles hurt, everyones yelling. You want to quit, you want to cry. Your wondering why the fuck you do this.
Then you see your seargeants EGA. This is temporary. One day, you will have one of those as well.
Mile 5:
You ignore everything. Your not in the zone you were in in mile 3, you still feel the pain. The pain shoots till your eyesight is red. Your head throbs from dehydration. You start to feel dizzy and shake it off.
You reach the last marker, a red fire hydrant. you sprint. you sprint with every last ounce of energy you have. your back in the zone. Time slows down. you dont hear anything except your own breathing and the sound of your feet hitting pavement. This is what God must feel like.
you cross the stop sign. You slow down. You vomit.
I love this post. It reminds me of what my priorities were before i was injured. It reminds me of what i was willing to give to wear that EGA and serve this country. It reminds me of how a bean counter decided it was more cost effective to get rid of me then fix my shoulder. It reminds me how the president will pass universal care for everyone, that bean counter can stop your meds. It reminds me that nothing in life is guaranteed. It reminds me the pain, the suffering i gave to the Corps just to get to boot camp before they spit me out.
It reminds me of my innocence.
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