A few days ago I had this interesting dream. I dreamt that I was lying in bed, and this bubble bee had found its way into my living container. I’m always paranoid that one of those nasty camel spiders is going to find its way into my room and crawl on me. If you haven’t seen a camel spider there is a picture of one on my Facebook page that we caught while I was in Afghanistan. It’s the one that we had a funeral for after it died. She… He… It was our site mascot for a few days until its passing.
Anyway, in this dream I was lying in bed and heard this awful loud buzzing around me. I started swatting at it, in an ill fated attempt to kill it. I say ill fated because I woke myself up as I slammed my hand against the wall. In that phase between awake and asleep I could really hear a faint buzz but wasn’t sure if I was still dreaming or not. Then a sudden BOOM followed by “INCOMING INCOMING INCOMING” from the rocket attack alarm.
That same alarm has gone off 8 times in the past 10 days, but most of the rockets haven’t landed close enough to hear or feel. So the sound of one of them landing so close startled me. I thought to myself… “I hope that’s just sweat” regarding the moisture in my shorts. I got out of bed in time to hear another BOOM! The alarm continued, unlike before when it would stop and there would be a period of silence before the all clear. Then another BOOM, which rattled the poorly insulated walls of my trailer. These were followed by three more thuds off in the distance somewhere, yet close enough to hear. At this point I was seriously considering making a break for the bunkers.
I put on a shirt and stood for moment and listened to see if the others were leaving their trailers. I said something in one of my previous posts, while out in Afghanistan, about only getting panicked if others were, never mind survival of the fittest, I’m a lemming. Since I didn’t hear anyone else freaking out I got back into bed and hoped that that dream wasn’t going to be my last.
Then another BOOM thundered through the darkness, which wasn’t as close as the first wall rattler but close enough to create a little rumble. Still I didn’t hear anyone else making a run for it. So I thought, well if I leave now I’ll have to sit in the cold by myself until the all clear, so I’ll take my chances here. At some point I also said something about not wanting to die alone, I’ll add alone in cold now.
The alarm finally stopped and I waited, silently, listening for that unholy buzz of rockets. Nothing… Nothing… Nothing… Then the alarms woke back up, but this time sounding the all clear. I fell back asleep for that last few hours I had before having to head to work.
When I woke up the second time that night I did my regular nightly routine. I work nights, so you can consider it a daily routine if it makes you feel better. I headed for the showers to clean the fear off myself, you know because those jackals can smell fear. The winds were very high because of a fast moving storm front, so I double timed it for the showers. After getting all squeaky clean and brushing my teeth I double timed it back, so as not to get unclean from windblown dust, and got ready for work.
I normally have some time before we leave to sit and relax for a minute, so I busted out my iPhone, sat on my bed and started playing Plants vs. Zombies. Without warning a thunderous crack shook my entire trailer like an earthquake just hit. It was like Chicken Little showed up but forgot to tell me that the freaking sky was falling. My heart stopped… After I realized that I wasn’t dead I thought to myself “Well ‘f’ this, I’m getting out of here.”
I grabbed my stuff went outside to find that it was only lightening this time. The guys were already in the car waiting for me. They said that they were momentarily blinded by Zeus’s fury. I made that up, the fury part, not the blindness… They didn’t actually say Zeus’s fury but I’ll start using that to reference any lightning bolt that falls within 500 yards of my present location. One of them said they felt their heart stop, the other said he could feel all his hairs stand up.
We high tailed it to the site, all the while the sky looked like there was an intergalactic laser light show happening. I have never been so happy to A.) Still be in one piece and B.) Not been a victim of Zeus’s fury. Thank god it really was just sweat…
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Unmistakable Lack of Something
I’ve been at this site in Iraq for nearly a month now, give or take a week. Honestly I have no idea how long I’ve been out here since the lack of change make the days roll into each other. But one thing I discovered today is that I’m missing something here that made me happier in Afghanistan.
Life here is noticeably nicer than it was at my previous location. I have my own living container, which is roughly 16x8 foot trailer complete with air conditioning, power and a small refrigerator, courtesy of the last guy who lived here. I have a memory foam mattress pad given to me by a new friend who left a couple weeks after I arrived and a completely carpeted floor thanks to the Post Exchange and about $15. Indeed, the living conditions are nothing to look down upon.
The dining facility is second to none. The building is a brand new Costco sized monstrosity complete with smoothie bar and ice cream. I’m trying to get people to call it the “buffet” instead of the “chow hall” but my lack of persistence has resulted in failure. Nonetheless, the food there is nearly 10x better than that in Afghanistan and quality thus far is just shy of the stuff you can find in your grocery store frozen food aisle, not the like TV dinners I was having before. Yup, life out here isn’t bad at all.
So then, why am I saying there is an unmistakable lack of something? Well I said it so there must be something right? As they say the grass is always greener. For some reason when I woke up this particular day I felt a little somber. For some reason this memory foam pad atop this decent twin sized bed felt less comfortable than the cots I was in. The privacy gained isn’t near as nice as having a bunch of guys living in a tent.
I wondered how was it possible, given all these bells and whistles, that I was still somehow unhappy? (Unhappy is probably the wrong word, so think of something half way between happy and unhappy) Then it hit me, like a freight train it hit me. It was that unmistakable lack of camaraderie. The jovial attitude you get when you put a bunch of 20-somethings in an austere environment and tell them to work together. The fact is, yes we worked in Afghanistan, but at that time it felt like it was more play.
I had fun in Afghanistan. I enjoyed hanging out with everyone there and hopefully I was able to extend the same feelings to others around me. I found myself wishing I was waking up in a cot, covered in sand with a camel spider crawling through my stuff. I’d go as far to say that I missed to food, but I haven’t completely lost it yet.
But there is that missing puzzle piece that will probably never be replaced, because even if I had returned to that same place in Afghanistan everyone would already have left. If I walk away with one lesson from this entire experience it will be that no matter how many luxuries you have the people are what really matter. Either that or it’s the fact that my cigars are locked in one of our guy’s foot locker.
Life here is noticeably nicer than it was at my previous location. I have my own living container, which is roughly 16x8 foot trailer complete with air conditioning, power and a small refrigerator, courtesy of the last guy who lived here. I have a memory foam mattress pad given to me by a new friend who left a couple weeks after I arrived and a completely carpeted floor thanks to the Post Exchange and about $15. Indeed, the living conditions are nothing to look down upon.
The dining facility is second to none. The building is a brand new Costco sized monstrosity complete with smoothie bar and ice cream. I’m trying to get people to call it the “buffet” instead of the “chow hall” but my lack of persistence has resulted in failure. Nonetheless, the food there is nearly 10x better than that in Afghanistan and quality thus far is just shy of the stuff you can find in your grocery store frozen food aisle, not the like TV dinners I was having before. Yup, life out here isn’t bad at all.
So then, why am I saying there is an unmistakable lack of something? Well I said it so there must be something right? As they say the grass is always greener. For some reason when I woke up this particular day I felt a little somber. For some reason this memory foam pad atop this decent twin sized bed felt less comfortable than the cots I was in. The privacy gained isn’t near as nice as having a bunch of guys living in a tent.
I wondered how was it possible, given all these bells and whistles, that I was still somehow unhappy? (Unhappy is probably the wrong word, so think of something half way between happy and unhappy) Then it hit me, like a freight train it hit me. It was that unmistakable lack of camaraderie. The jovial attitude you get when you put a bunch of 20-somethings in an austere environment and tell them to work together. The fact is, yes we worked in Afghanistan, but at that time it felt like it was more play.
I had fun in Afghanistan. I enjoyed hanging out with everyone there and hopefully I was able to extend the same feelings to others around me. I found myself wishing I was waking up in a cot, covered in sand with a camel spider crawling through my stuff. I’d go as far to say that I missed to food, but I haven’t completely lost it yet.
But there is that missing puzzle piece that will probably never be replaced, because even if I had returned to that same place in Afghanistan everyone would already have left. If I walk away with one lesson from this entire experience it will be that no matter how many luxuries you have the people are what really matter. Either that or it’s the fact that my cigars are locked in one of our guy’s foot locker.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
FAQ
I always get these off the wall questions from various people and it leads me to believe that people don't realize what really is going on out here.
Your Questions Answered...
Q: What do you do on weekends?
A: I don’t have weekends, I work 7 days a week 12 hours a day. There isn’t a single person out here who has a weekend off. It’s the sacrifice a lot of these guys make so everyone can sit at home completely oblivious to what’s happening out here.
Q: Do you go in to town at all?
A: No, the last time the soldiers did a foot patrol in town one was killed by a sniper, this isn’t club med or a tourist spot, it’s a war zone.
Q: How’s the food?
A: It’s definitely not as bad as it was in Afghanistan with the Marine Corps. The downside is that most of the people on post could use a few hours on the treadmill.
Q: Is it dangerous?
A: Are you serious? We’re surrounded by less than friendly locals. The country borders some of the least US-friendly countries in the world who have more than enough capability to wipe our base off the face of the earth. I get tired of that question… There’s a reason why the soldiers have to carry around their rifles, and they have monthly tests of the indirect fire alarm system.
Q: Do you get attacked?
A: We get rocketed every once in a while. If you can hear the explosion and feel the impact it means you’re still alive.
Q: Are you scared?
A: Not really. The way I figure it, if I go so does everyone else here and I don’t like the idea of dying alone. Plus those guys have bad aim...
Q: Do you talk to any of the locals?
A: Only the ones who work on base.
Q: Did you learn the language?
A: No, again, you don’t leave base. This isn’t a tourist spot. People need to get that out of their heads.
I also get tired of hearing people complain about their jobs. Everyone has every right to complain but choose wisely who you complain to. I don't care that you're pulling 10 hour days and working weekends... I don't care that you're meeting ran an extra 30 minutes or that someone at work is pissing you off.
I have 12 hour days non-negotiable, no chance for a weekend, sick day or vacation. I live with the people I work with so I have to spend 24 hours a day with them eating, sleeping and working. If I don't get along with them, tough luck...
At least you have the option for weekends, no one is forcing you to work. At least you can go home and get away from the people that irritate you and you get to sleep in your own bed and eat where ever and what ever you want.
I'm very lucky that I get a long with everyone, I enjoy the food and I was built to work extended hours but that doesn't mean I want to hear everyone else complain to me about their jobs. I happen to like mine, despite the work location...
Your Questions Answered...
Q: What do you do on weekends?
A: I don’t have weekends, I work 7 days a week 12 hours a day. There isn’t a single person out here who has a weekend off. It’s the sacrifice a lot of these guys make so everyone can sit at home completely oblivious to what’s happening out here.
Q: Do you go in to town at all?
A: No, the last time the soldiers did a foot patrol in town one was killed by a sniper, this isn’t club med or a tourist spot, it’s a war zone.
Q: How’s the food?
A: It’s definitely not as bad as it was in Afghanistan with the Marine Corps. The downside is that most of the people on post could use a few hours on the treadmill.
Q: Is it dangerous?
A: Are you serious? We’re surrounded by less than friendly locals. The country borders some of the least US-friendly countries in the world who have more than enough capability to wipe our base off the face of the earth. I get tired of that question… There’s a reason why the soldiers have to carry around their rifles, and they have monthly tests of the indirect fire alarm system.
Q: Do you get attacked?
A: We get rocketed every once in a while. If you can hear the explosion and feel the impact it means you’re still alive.
Q: Are you scared?
A: Not really. The way I figure it, if I go so does everyone else here and I don’t like the idea of dying alone. Plus those guys have bad aim...
Q: Do you talk to any of the locals?
A: Only the ones who work on base.
Q: Did you learn the language?
A: No, again, you don’t leave base. This isn’t a tourist spot. People need to get that out of their heads.
I also get tired of hearing people complain about their jobs. Everyone has every right to complain but choose wisely who you complain to. I don't care that you're pulling 10 hour days and working weekends... I don't care that you're meeting ran an extra 30 minutes or that someone at work is pissing you off.
I have 12 hour days non-negotiable, no chance for a weekend, sick day or vacation. I live with the people I work with so I have to spend 24 hours a day with them eating, sleeping and working. If I don't get along with them, tough luck...
At least you have the option for weekends, no one is forcing you to work. At least you can go home and get away from the people that irritate you and you get to sleep in your own bed and eat where ever and what ever you want.
I'm very lucky that I get a long with everyone, I enjoy the food and I was built to work extended hours but that doesn't mean I want to hear everyone else complain to me about their jobs. I happen to like mine, despite the work location...
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Making Friends Since 1981
I’m on my last domestic flight before leaving the country for yet another 6 month funfest in the Middle East. This past week was spent processing through Fort Benning, which consisted of turning in paperwork, checking boxes and training for the worst (and by worst I mean if I ever have to use this training you’re damn sure I’m not going to survive anyway). With the help of my predecessors I was prepared and able to leave one day early, meaning an extra night at home. Overall this was a very productive weekend despite waiting in long lines and sitting through worthless scare-tactic courses. I say it was productive not because I successfully processed through, but because I was able to befriend a few new people. It all started on the flight down to Atlanta last Friday.
I was ready for my regular flight routine. Fall asleep during taxi and takeoff, wake up in time for the electronic devices usage announcement, pop in the head phones and rock out until the soda cart rolled by. There are a few occasions that this does not happen as planned and this was to be one of those.
There I was sitting in my window seat, iPod in one hand and headphones in the other staring out said window as the luggage handlers loaded the plane. Next thing I know my hopes for having an entire row to myself were dashed as a couple, girlfriend/boyfriend, sat down in the middle and aisle seat next to me. I’m not sure why I always hope for my own row, it rarely ever happens… But no matter, this time my dashed hopes turned into new friends that I hope to continue to talk to in the future. Obviously the timing couldn’t have been worse though…
The guy was from Taiwan, he came to the states when he was a teenager and went to college on the east coast. He was working in Saint Louis now and presumably enjoying his job. The girl was originally from Saint Louis, of course “the question” came up and I discovered she went to the same high school as a lot of my friends. We talked the entire flight, I put away my iPod and rather than listening to Jack Johnson or Death Cab, I instead enjoyed some good old fashion conversation.
They told me about their recent trip to Taiwan and I told them about my future trip to Iraq. We exchanged contact information upon arrival in Atlanta and subsequently began my wait for my flight to Columbus, which became a story in itself. But we can talk about that some other time.
A couple weeks prior to me leaving for Fort Benning a friend of mine from Afghanistan told me a friend of his from the Marine Corps was going to be there as well. I was supposed to get the contact information for his friend but he forgot to pass it along and I didn’t really pester him about it because I would have been perfectly content hiding in my hotel room and being antisocial.
The first morning of processing I was standing in line to check in chatting with a group of other contractors. We were discussing a contractor’s favorite topic, our respective companies or more importantly the shortcomings of our respective companies. I was describing my company in as little detail as possible when someone behind me in line chimed in.
“Insitu?”
“Yeah… Who do you work for?”
“Evergreen”
“Really? Do you know…”
“Yeah, he’s my boy we were in the marines together”
BAM! Instant friendship! How fortunate was I that out of 450 people, the guy I happened to have 2 degrees of separation from happened to be the person right behind me in line? Once again, my guardian angel was looking out for me because in reality I would not have been content hiding in my hotel room or being antisocial. What’s even better is that once I meet one person I generally start absorbing others too. Soon enough our group of 2 became 3 with the addition of an off-the-wall, class clown from Tennessee.
We were like a bad joke… a marine, an army guy and an engineer walk into a steak house… add your own punch line. It made the week go by so much faster and made every minute a lot more enjoyable than it could have been. Even when I was catching my flight back to Saint Louis I thought about some of the things that happened. I think people thought I was crazy because I was standing in line on the jet way laughing, most of which is best left for a face to face chat. Despite the long hours and the hopefully pointless training, the week turned out to be very fun.
So now you find me typing away on my flight back to the Middle East. With 2 vodka tonics down, I’m looking forward to reuniting with some friends from Afghanistan. We’ll be one man down but we’ll still be going strong. Even though the new location is ten times better, I still hope that this experience will be as good as the last.
I was ready for my regular flight routine. Fall asleep during taxi and takeoff, wake up in time for the electronic devices usage announcement, pop in the head phones and rock out until the soda cart rolled by. There are a few occasions that this does not happen as planned and this was to be one of those.
There I was sitting in my window seat, iPod in one hand and headphones in the other staring out said window as the luggage handlers loaded the plane. Next thing I know my hopes for having an entire row to myself were dashed as a couple, girlfriend/boyfriend, sat down in the middle and aisle seat next to me. I’m not sure why I always hope for my own row, it rarely ever happens… But no matter, this time my dashed hopes turned into new friends that I hope to continue to talk to in the future. Obviously the timing couldn’t have been worse though…
The guy was from Taiwan, he came to the states when he was a teenager and went to college on the east coast. He was working in Saint Louis now and presumably enjoying his job. The girl was originally from Saint Louis, of course “the question” came up and I discovered she went to the same high school as a lot of my friends. We talked the entire flight, I put away my iPod and rather than listening to Jack Johnson or Death Cab, I instead enjoyed some good old fashion conversation.
They told me about their recent trip to Taiwan and I told them about my future trip to Iraq. We exchanged contact information upon arrival in Atlanta and subsequently began my wait for my flight to Columbus, which became a story in itself. But we can talk about that some other time.
A couple weeks prior to me leaving for Fort Benning a friend of mine from Afghanistan told me a friend of his from the Marine Corps was going to be there as well. I was supposed to get the contact information for his friend but he forgot to pass it along and I didn’t really pester him about it because I would have been perfectly content hiding in my hotel room and being antisocial.
The first morning of processing I was standing in line to check in chatting with a group of other contractors. We were discussing a contractor’s favorite topic, our respective companies or more importantly the shortcomings of our respective companies. I was describing my company in as little detail as possible when someone behind me in line chimed in.
“Insitu?”
“Yeah… Who do you work for?”
“Evergreen”
“Really? Do you know…”
“Yeah, he’s my boy we were in the marines together”
BAM! Instant friendship! How fortunate was I that out of 450 people, the guy I happened to have 2 degrees of separation from happened to be the person right behind me in line? Once again, my guardian angel was looking out for me because in reality I would not have been content hiding in my hotel room or being antisocial. What’s even better is that once I meet one person I generally start absorbing others too. Soon enough our group of 2 became 3 with the addition of an off-the-wall, class clown from Tennessee.
We were like a bad joke… a marine, an army guy and an engineer walk into a steak house… add your own punch line. It made the week go by so much faster and made every minute a lot more enjoyable than it could have been. Even when I was catching my flight back to Saint Louis I thought about some of the things that happened. I think people thought I was crazy because I was standing in line on the jet way laughing, most of which is best left for a face to face chat. Despite the long hours and the hopefully pointless training, the week turned out to be very fun.
So now you find me typing away on my flight back to the Middle East. With 2 vodka tonics down, I’m looking forward to reuniting with some friends from Afghanistan. We’ll be one man down but we’ll still be going strong. Even though the new location is ten times better, I still hope that this experience will be as good as the last.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
The Tortoise and the Hare
There are times when I start to feel like the better times are over. Like all those great memories from the past are the last great memories that I’ll make. It seems as if each passing year gets less interesting to the point that I’m less excited about tomorrow.
That’s kind of a depressing start to this but it’s more of an awakening than a cry for help. And many of you have probably connected this feeling to why I’m leaving the country again, to seek out that excitement and color. Trouble is you can’t expect a change in the view out your window to change the view in your mind. No matter how many ways I spin it in my head, the honest truth is that I’m running away from my life. Jesus… I sound like someone who should be on suicide watch… No, no I’m fine. Please keep reading.
The catalyst to me posting this was some memories that were brought up tonight while I was at dinner with some old friends. We were part of a new hire group that joined Boeing 6 years ago, all of us fresh out of college with more money than we knew what to do with. We were all in our early 20s, single and looking to extend the college life just a few more years. It felt like every weekend was a party with the weekends bleeding into the week days. It was a time when hangovers didn’t exist and even after a 3AM bed time we could still be ready for an 8AM work out. Nothing could stop us, except time.
Time is like the tortoise, you know, like the tortoise and the hare. No matter how fast-paced a life we lead, time slowly grinds away and before you realize it, it’s caught up. And that’s sort of where I find myself right now, in second place. I’m creeping closer and closer to 30, the vast majority of my friends are married or in serious relationships and at some point people went from trying to extend college life to preparing their kids for college. The weekends are now two days to get chores done and when we do go out the recovery consumes the remainder of the days.
As we approach NYE2010, I can remember the past New Years celebrations and how they’ve evolved from year to year. How baby seats appeared in the cars and parents disappeared from the attendance list. For those parents who are still willing to come out, they’re now accompanied by the little ones. I can’t say that I mind though, kids are a lot of fun. I met a former girlfriend at a NYE party, can’t remember what year but I can tell you the person who hosted the party is now married.
So it seems now I’m chasing after that little green reptile as it slowing trudges along in the distance. I finally woke up from my little nap to realize that I’ve been left in the dust by something that, by some unknown force, is required to tick away at a constant pace. The problem now, you see, is that no matter how fast I move, no matter how much distance I make up, there is nothing that will keep that tortoise from winning. Our little analogy ends at the awakening, because in reality, the tortoise always wins.
That’s kind of a depressing start to this but it’s more of an awakening than a cry for help. And many of you have probably connected this feeling to why I’m leaving the country again, to seek out that excitement and color. Trouble is you can’t expect a change in the view out your window to change the view in your mind. No matter how many ways I spin it in my head, the honest truth is that I’m running away from my life. Jesus… I sound like someone who should be on suicide watch… No, no I’m fine. Please keep reading.
The catalyst to me posting this was some memories that were brought up tonight while I was at dinner with some old friends. We were part of a new hire group that joined Boeing 6 years ago, all of us fresh out of college with more money than we knew what to do with. We were all in our early 20s, single and looking to extend the college life just a few more years. It felt like every weekend was a party with the weekends bleeding into the week days. It was a time when hangovers didn’t exist and even after a 3AM bed time we could still be ready for an 8AM work out. Nothing could stop us, except time.
Time is like the tortoise, you know, like the tortoise and the hare. No matter how fast-paced a life we lead, time slowly grinds away and before you realize it, it’s caught up. And that’s sort of where I find myself right now, in second place. I’m creeping closer and closer to 30, the vast majority of my friends are married or in serious relationships and at some point people went from trying to extend college life to preparing their kids for college. The weekends are now two days to get chores done and when we do go out the recovery consumes the remainder of the days.
As we approach NYE2010, I can remember the past New Years celebrations and how they’ve evolved from year to year. How baby seats appeared in the cars and parents disappeared from the attendance list. For those parents who are still willing to come out, they’re now accompanied by the little ones. I can’t say that I mind though, kids are a lot of fun. I met a former girlfriend at a NYE party, can’t remember what year but I can tell you the person who hosted the party is now married.
So it seems now I’m chasing after that little green reptile as it slowing trudges along in the distance. I finally woke up from my little nap to realize that I’ve been left in the dust by something that, by some unknown force, is required to tick away at a constant pace. The problem now, you see, is that no matter how fast I move, no matter how much distance I make up, there is nothing that will keep that tortoise from winning. Our little analogy ends at the awakening, because in reality, the tortoise always wins.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Back to the Fight… Well At Least Back to Watching It
It’s been close to a month now since I landed at Lambert Airport in Saint Louis after spending close to 36 hours traversing across half the planet. Since then I’ve seen a lot of friends and family, spent a lot of time eating and sleeping, and probably blown a whole paycheck on gas for my car, all things that I wasn’t able to do for the previous 6 months. It’s been good to have a chance to come home, spend some time in my own bed, shower without shower shoes and have a weekend off again. The problem you see is that all good things come to an end.
It’s not as if going to the great brown ocean is a bad thing. I’m pretty excited to get back out there and spend some more time with friends and helping our guys on the ground take the fight to the enemy. But there are days when I wake up after a comfortable nights sleep and think to myself, there’s got to be another job I can do that would allow me to wake up here every night. The trouble you see is that spending time in the office has made me very aware of what I’m not missing here.
People constantly complaining about how tough they have it, how they are working over time when there are 3 days left in the pay period. When people griping about their bosses or how they have multiple bosses or how they don’t want to go to work any more. Not to forget all those other various whines and moans that people have, also not to forget that I’ve complained about my boss more than any one while I’ve been back.
Someone needs to wake up and realize that even though they’re working overtime, at least they can go home at night and sleep. At least they can spend time with friends and family on the weekends even if they have to work during the day. They don’t have to worry about being that one in a million that gets a mortar dropped on their head while they’re sleeping. They don’t jump every time there is a loud noise because the base might have been infiltrated and someone planted a car bomb outside their tent. But I’ll take all that over sitting in the office hating life every single day until I retire.
The other day I asked someone if they enjoyed their job. They responded with “At least it’s a job, especially in this economy.” So, does that mean they don’t really like their job but since there aren’t any other options, they take it? Is that like being married to someone you don’t really like but you can’t do any better so you’ll take them? I’m not down with hating life and I’m not down with accepting something that I don’t like. But ultimately we aren’t always able to choose what we want and I’ve been fortunate enough to have the opportunity to do something that, despite its many drawbacks, I enjoy very much for the time being.
If you fast forward 30 days I should be sitting on a plane on my way out to the Middle East. It’ll be another whole new experience with my final destination being Iraq with a short layover in Kuwait. I’ll be there with some friends from Afghanistan by way of Oregon and New York. Flying around the world, spending time in war zones, all while getting paid… I don’t think you can beat this life. Anyone want to meet me in London or the Maldives in March?
It’s not as if going to the great brown ocean is a bad thing. I’m pretty excited to get back out there and spend some more time with friends and helping our guys on the ground take the fight to the enemy. But there are days when I wake up after a comfortable nights sleep and think to myself, there’s got to be another job I can do that would allow me to wake up here every night. The trouble you see is that spending time in the office has made me very aware of what I’m not missing here.
People constantly complaining about how tough they have it, how they are working over time when there are 3 days left in the pay period. When people griping about their bosses or how they have multiple bosses or how they don’t want to go to work any more. Not to forget all those other various whines and moans that people have, also not to forget that I’ve complained about my boss more than any one while I’ve been back.
Someone needs to wake up and realize that even though they’re working overtime, at least they can go home at night and sleep. At least they can spend time with friends and family on the weekends even if they have to work during the day. They don’t have to worry about being that one in a million that gets a mortar dropped on their head while they’re sleeping. They don’t jump every time there is a loud noise because the base might have been infiltrated and someone planted a car bomb outside their tent. But I’ll take all that over sitting in the office hating life every single day until I retire.
The other day I asked someone if they enjoyed their job. They responded with “At least it’s a job, especially in this economy.” So, does that mean they don’t really like their job but since there aren’t any other options, they take it? Is that like being married to someone you don’t really like but you can’t do any better so you’ll take them? I’m not down with hating life and I’m not down with accepting something that I don’t like. But ultimately we aren’t always able to choose what we want and I’ve been fortunate enough to have the opportunity to do something that, despite its many drawbacks, I enjoy very much for the time being.
If you fast forward 30 days I should be sitting on a plane on my way out to the Middle East. It’ll be another whole new experience with my final destination being Iraq with a short layover in Kuwait. I’ll be there with some friends from Afghanistan by way of Oregon and New York. Flying around the world, spending time in war zones, all while getting paid… I don’t think you can beat this life. Anyone want to meet me in London or the Maldives in March?
Friday, November 27, 2009
Chicago Marathon 2006
I wanted to consolidate my blogs a bit. I had posted a bunch of these elsewhere and thought this quiet time would be a good time to retrieve these posts. I wrote this one after I ran the Chicago Marathon in 2006. I'll probably be redeploying early next year, which may come too soon or not soon enough depending on what day you talk to me...
Saturday morning came a lot faster than I expected. It was starting to hit me that in two days I would be doing something that few people can say they've done in their lives, run a marathon. The excitement was building, 18 weeks of training for one day of glory. I had two things on my mind don't walk and finish strong. Our flight that morning was around 11 AM, to arrive in Chicago at around noon. I got the call that morning from my friend who'd I'd been training with and who got me into this mess. He said he'd be at my place around 930 and we'd head for Waffle House for breakfast, the food for marathon champions…
Even at Waffle House there were reminders of the hell we'd be putting ourselves through. A couple eating with their daughter, the dad wearing a Spirit of Saint Louis Marathon shirt and looking like a runner, the daughter, who I thought I recognized from one of the many races I've done in the past few years. We ate our breakfast and headed for the airport. The excitement continued to build. It was a great feeling, a huge accomplishment, but the doubt was still there.
Did I train enough, I hadn't run at all that week, I'd been a little down and hadn't really moved at all. Maybe that was a good thing though, allow my legs a rest.
Maybe it was a bad thing, my legs may have weakened in the time I hadn't done anything but drink and eat poorly. It wasn't far from destroying all the preparation that I've done running up to this event. But I signed up, I paid, I was going and I was running as strong as I could possibly run. I wasn't going to be beaten by myself.
At the airport were more reminders. The guy in the security line with a pair of Brooks tired to his backpack, the girl with her 2005 Chicago Marathon jacket on. The group of guys with their Boston Marathon jackets, the loner with the Marine Corps Marathon shirt on. The powers that be weren't going to allow us to forget what was going to happen tomorrow.
The plane ride was uneventful, one hour of extra sleep that I had missed the week before. Still probably about 9 hours of sleep behind… I'd never been to Chicago, other than wandering through Midway during a lay over, so this was a cool experience. We got off the plane and headed for the L. In line for tickets were at least 50 people, most with running shoes, running jackets and looking all kinds of runner. Amazing, this many people who knew what we'd gone through to get here.
The L took us downtown and we got off, far, far away from where we wanted to be.
After a slight detour and some wrong directional walking we agreed to get a cab. Oh boy a cab ride, my first cab ride in Chicago. I was excited. The cab took us to McCormick Place, where the expo center and packet pickup were. We knew instantly that we were in the right place. No where else in the city did we see people, then around the corner a line of cabs and a mass of people. It looked like the hour prior to a Cardinals game at Busch Stadium.
We walked in to see thousands of people walking through the building, signs led us up to the area where we could get our packets and activate our chips. We jumped in line and got our numbers and chips, met up behind chip activation and headed towards the rear of the expo center to get our goody bag. So many runners, so many companies represented. Shoes, nutrition, clothing, international marathons, national marathons, everything you could imagine was there. It was similar to the facilities for the Spirit of Saint Louis marathon, but on a grander scale.
I'd never imagined seeing this many people in one place, so many people with different backgrounds, different languages, different reasons for being at this race. Some for the love of running, some for a loved one, some just out to run with a spouse, friend or relative.
We got our packets and wandered around for a short period of time, snapped a picture of ourselves in from of the count down timer. 17 hours 44 minutes 55 seconds before race time. We jumped back into another cab and headed for the hotel. We dropped off our stuff and went to lunch, an Italian beef sandwich, French fries and a cup of water. Good thing for that water or else that meal would have been completely bad for me. The grease soaked through the two sheets of wax paper that wrapped up the sandwich. Come to think of it, it soaked through the paper bag it came in. But there was something settling about eating that sandwich, it sort of calmed the nerves.
We finished up with that and headed out to town. My friend showed me around Chicago for a bit, went to Millennium Park and tried to go to the Chicago Institute for Art but it was closing. We decided to go to the ESPN Zone to watch the Cardinals Game. I wasn't going to miss that for anything. To bad we lost. We finished the game and went back to the hotel to get some sleep prior to race time. We did all our prep work, organizing everything, making sure nothing was forgotten and tried to sleep. The adrenaline was still pumping through me, the excitement still running through my mind. I sent one last text message and slept the best I could.
Sunday morning, the day that would be a life changing experience. I tried to take a picture of myself that morning but the light on my camera was too bright, I had to do it with my eyes closed. I debated on taking a shower and decided to because its better to start clean and end up dirty than to start dirty and end up dirtier.
After showering and gathering our things we hit the street. We hailed a cab a block down and it drove us as close as it could before the roads started being closed around the start line. There was a sea of people, what looked like hundreds of thousands, quite possible since there were 40,000 participants and each with an average of 2-3 people with them. It's been a while since I've seen that many people in one spot for the same purpose.
We met up with some friends from Boeing and talked for a while. I ran over to gear check and dropped off my bag before the start. As soon as I got back to the group it was time to break and head for the start. We ran up to where our pace groups were, conveniently behind a fence… We shook hands and split. My friend headed for the 5:30 hour group and I headed for the 4:30 hour group, jumped the fence and I was there. It was like all those videos you see from the Boston Marathon, just a sea of people all facing the same way, waiting for the horn to sound.
Not long after getting to the start line the gun went off. No movement. Clothes started flying, shirts, jackets, pants, plastic bags, ponchos and anything else of excess that wouldn't be needed throughout the race was shed at the start. When in Rome, I thought, so I tossed my long sleeve shirt, thinking it wouldn't be long before we started moving. After doing that I looked up a realized that the start was still a mile away. I was freezing, and I was probably an hour away from running. The wind was brutal, but hey what the hell I'm running the Chicago Marathon!
About 15 minutes after the gun sounded we crossed the start line. The 4:30 group took off, slowly, very slowly, slower than I expected. I told myself that I had to pace them so I wouldn't burn out before the end. It's a marathon, not a sprint. But running at this speed was making me more tired than I would have been if I had gone full speed ahead. After about 5 or 6 miles I removed my pace team number and took off. My heart rate was solid, I was still breathing through my nose, no problems, not even an ounce of pain. Well, 7 down 19 more to go, we'll see how long I can keep his up for.
I kept passing people and ended up seeing some 4 hour people and some 3:55 people. Could they have been just those who miss estimated their times or were they legitimately running that pace? I didn't know, I didn't care, I was running with some fast people. The miles just melted away. The whole route was lined with thousands of people, all cheering. They didn't' care who you were, what you were, they cheered for you. The feeling was amazing, the energy was powerful and it kept me going strong. Again the feeling was unreal, like a dream.
More miles flew by as the people did and as the neighborhoods did. Mile 9, mile 10, mile 11, mile 12, then over the hill I could see the half marathon mark, 2:07 hours. As I ran through I thought, wow, the first place finisher is running through the finish right about now, I'm half way there. Run strong, everyone is watching, there are people at home thinking about you, your brother is tracking your progress. I took my first Gatorade stop just after the half marathon mark. Grab, crimp and slurp, no walking.
More miles, more towns, more cheering people flew by. Little Italy, Spanish Town, Boys Town, China Town, didn't matter, they all cheered, they all encouraged. People lined the bridges, the streets, even the tunnels. I was starting to realize that they didn't care how fast you were running, they cared that you were out there, that you were doing it. I was doing it. I was running my first marathon.
I ran by someone with a sign on their back saying "I beat my brain tumor". Others with shirts saying "I'm running for my brother", "I'm running for the kids", Team in Training ran for Leukemia, everyone had a reason ranging from the love of running to the defeat of cancer.
Mile 18 was time for some Power Gel. Missed the first guy, missed the second guy, finally grabbed one from the third, cappuccino with caffeine, perfect! Rip and squeeze into mouth. Simple instructions were necessary at this point. Oh, more Power gel, grab another. Rip and squeeze, okay one more for the road, any more would slow me down. Gatorade to wash it down, grab, crimp and slurp, keep running. No stopping, no pain, no fear, no thinking.
Mile 20, the wall… there was a wall in fact, it was the wall from Pink Floyd. But where was the glycogen depletion? Where was that pain, that muscle grinding I was told about? Where was the sudden stop? No more questions keep going.
Mile 21, the Final Five, oh my god I have five more miles to go. I couldn't believe it, I had five more miles to go, 18 weeks of training down to less than an hour of running. Still no wall, no pain, no stopping for me, others all around were walking giving me more incentive to keep going.
Mile 22, completely missed the marker.
Mile 23, just a 5K left, just thirty more minutes. Don't quit now, you're so close, don't stop, do it for yourself, do it for everyone watching, just do it. No pain.
Mile 24, what's that? My calf is a tightening up. Quit thinking about it, just run.
Mile 25, I could see the city, could feel the end, could hear the crowds, the excitement, the energy.
800 Meters to go, sprint, go sprint, go, go go
400 Meters, you can do this in less than a minute, dead sprint, no pain! The crowds thickened, the cheering volume increased. What a feeling, what a great feeling! Everyone screaming, bells clanging, different languages, different people, different voices fueling. Everyone was sprinting, even the walkers. Everyone was reenergized. I hadn't ever ran like that after running so far, I didn't think I'd have the energy to go full stride, full cadence, I poured all my heart into that last 400 meters. Well all the heart I had left over after the first 26 miles. I ran through at 4:30 hour gun time, that's 4:15 chip time. I felt great! I couldn't help but smile like a kid at Christmas. It was amazing, more than words can describe.
I've likened it to a drug, now I want more, I want that feeling again. So I've already signed up for another half in November, and I'm going to sign up for the Birmingham Mercedes Marathon in Alabama. There is a possibility that I may sign up for the Vienna Marathon next April or run the Spirit of Saint Louis Full Marathon, I have the itch, I think I have a problem.
Saturday morning came a lot faster than I expected. It was starting to hit me that in two days I would be doing something that few people can say they've done in their lives, run a marathon. The excitement was building, 18 weeks of training for one day of glory. I had two things on my mind don't walk and finish strong. Our flight that morning was around 11 AM, to arrive in Chicago at around noon. I got the call that morning from my friend who'd I'd been training with and who got me into this mess. He said he'd be at my place around 930 and we'd head for Waffle House for breakfast, the food for marathon champions…
Even at Waffle House there were reminders of the hell we'd be putting ourselves through. A couple eating with their daughter, the dad wearing a Spirit of Saint Louis Marathon shirt and looking like a runner, the daughter, who I thought I recognized from one of the many races I've done in the past few years. We ate our breakfast and headed for the airport. The excitement continued to build. It was a great feeling, a huge accomplishment, but the doubt was still there.
Did I train enough, I hadn't run at all that week, I'd been a little down and hadn't really moved at all. Maybe that was a good thing though, allow my legs a rest.
Maybe it was a bad thing, my legs may have weakened in the time I hadn't done anything but drink and eat poorly. It wasn't far from destroying all the preparation that I've done running up to this event. But I signed up, I paid, I was going and I was running as strong as I could possibly run. I wasn't going to be beaten by myself.
At the airport were more reminders. The guy in the security line with a pair of Brooks tired to his backpack, the girl with her 2005 Chicago Marathon jacket on. The group of guys with their Boston Marathon jackets, the loner with the Marine Corps Marathon shirt on. The powers that be weren't going to allow us to forget what was going to happen tomorrow.
The plane ride was uneventful, one hour of extra sleep that I had missed the week before. Still probably about 9 hours of sleep behind… I'd never been to Chicago, other than wandering through Midway during a lay over, so this was a cool experience. We got off the plane and headed for the L. In line for tickets were at least 50 people, most with running shoes, running jackets and looking all kinds of runner. Amazing, this many people who knew what we'd gone through to get here.
The L took us downtown and we got off, far, far away from where we wanted to be.
After a slight detour and some wrong directional walking we agreed to get a cab. Oh boy a cab ride, my first cab ride in Chicago. I was excited. The cab took us to McCormick Place, where the expo center and packet pickup were. We knew instantly that we were in the right place. No where else in the city did we see people, then around the corner a line of cabs and a mass of people. It looked like the hour prior to a Cardinals game at Busch Stadium.
We walked in to see thousands of people walking through the building, signs led us up to the area where we could get our packets and activate our chips. We jumped in line and got our numbers and chips, met up behind chip activation and headed towards the rear of the expo center to get our goody bag. So many runners, so many companies represented. Shoes, nutrition, clothing, international marathons, national marathons, everything you could imagine was there. It was similar to the facilities for the Spirit of Saint Louis marathon, but on a grander scale.
I'd never imagined seeing this many people in one place, so many people with different backgrounds, different languages, different reasons for being at this race. Some for the love of running, some for a loved one, some just out to run with a spouse, friend or relative.
We got our packets and wandered around for a short period of time, snapped a picture of ourselves in from of the count down timer. 17 hours 44 minutes 55 seconds before race time. We jumped back into another cab and headed for the hotel. We dropped off our stuff and went to lunch, an Italian beef sandwich, French fries and a cup of water. Good thing for that water or else that meal would have been completely bad for me. The grease soaked through the two sheets of wax paper that wrapped up the sandwich. Come to think of it, it soaked through the paper bag it came in. But there was something settling about eating that sandwich, it sort of calmed the nerves.
We finished up with that and headed out to town. My friend showed me around Chicago for a bit, went to Millennium Park and tried to go to the Chicago Institute for Art but it was closing. We decided to go to the ESPN Zone to watch the Cardinals Game. I wasn't going to miss that for anything. To bad we lost. We finished the game and went back to the hotel to get some sleep prior to race time. We did all our prep work, organizing everything, making sure nothing was forgotten and tried to sleep. The adrenaline was still pumping through me, the excitement still running through my mind. I sent one last text message and slept the best I could.
Sunday morning, the day that would be a life changing experience. I tried to take a picture of myself that morning but the light on my camera was too bright, I had to do it with my eyes closed. I debated on taking a shower and decided to because its better to start clean and end up dirty than to start dirty and end up dirtier.
After showering and gathering our things we hit the street. We hailed a cab a block down and it drove us as close as it could before the roads started being closed around the start line. There was a sea of people, what looked like hundreds of thousands, quite possible since there were 40,000 participants and each with an average of 2-3 people with them. It's been a while since I've seen that many people in one spot for the same purpose.
We met up with some friends from Boeing and talked for a while. I ran over to gear check and dropped off my bag before the start. As soon as I got back to the group it was time to break and head for the start. We ran up to where our pace groups were, conveniently behind a fence… We shook hands and split. My friend headed for the 5:30 hour group and I headed for the 4:30 hour group, jumped the fence and I was there. It was like all those videos you see from the Boston Marathon, just a sea of people all facing the same way, waiting for the horn to sound.
Not long after getting to the start line the gun went off. No movement. Clothes started flying, shirts, jackets, pants, plastic bags, ponchos and anything else of excess that wouldn't be needed throughout the race was shed at the start. When in Rome, I thought, so I tossed my long sleeve shirt, thinking it wouldn't be long before we started moving. After doing that I looked up a realized that the start was still a mile away. I was freezing, and I was probably an hour away from running. The wind was brutal, but hey what the hell I'm running the Chicago Marathon!
About 15 minutes after the gun sounded we crossed the start line. The 4:30 group took off, slowly, very slowly, slower than I expected. I told myself that I had to pace them so I wouldn't burn out before the end. It's a marathon, not a sprint. But running at this speed was making me more tired than I would have been if I had gone full speed ahead. After about 5 or 6 miles I removed my pace team number and took off. My heart rate was solid, I was still breathing through my nose, no problems, not even an ounce of pain. Well, 7 down 19 more to go, we'll see how long I can keep his up for.
I kept passing people and ended up seeing some 4 hour people and some 3:55 people. Could they have been just those who miss estimated their times or were they legitimately running that pace? I didn't know, I didn't care, I was running with some fast people. The miles just melted away. The whole route was lined with thousands of people, all cheering. They didn't' care who you were, what you were, they cheered for you. The feeling was amazing, the energy was powerful and it kept me going strong. Again the feeling was unreal, like a dream.
More miles flew by as the people did and as the neighborhoods did. Mile 9, mile 10, mile 11, mile 12, then over the hill I could see the half marathon mark, 2:07 hours. As I ran through I thought, wow, the first place finisher is running through the finish right about now, I'm half way there. Run strong, everyone is watching, there are people at home thinking about you, your brother is tracking your progress. I took my first Gatorade stop just after the half marathon mark. Grab, crimp and slurp, no walking.
More miles, more towns, more cheering people flew by. Little Italy, Spanish Town, Boys Town, China Town, didn't matter, they all cheered, they all encouraged. People lined the bridges, the streets, even the tunnels. I was starting to realize that they didn't care how fast you were running, they cared that you were out there, that you were doing it. I was doing it. I was running my first marathon.
I ran by someone with a sign on their back saying "I beat my brain tumor". Others with shirts saying "I'm running for my brother", "I'm running for the kids", Team in Training ran for Leukemia, everyone had a reason ranging from the love of running to the defeat of cancer.
Mile 18 was time for some Power Gel. Missed the first guy, missed the second guy, finally grabbed one from the third, cappuccino with caffeine, perfect! Rip and squeeze into mouth. Simple instructions were necessary at this point. Oh, more Power gel, grab another. Rip and squeeze, okay one more for the road, any more would slow me down. Gatorade to wash it down, grab, crimp and slurp, keep running. No stopping, no pain, no fear, no thinking.
Mile 20, the wall… there was a wall in fact, it was the wall from Pink Floyd. But where was the glycogen depletion? Where was that pain, that muscle grinding I was told about? Where was the sudden stop? No more questions keep going.
Mile 21, the Final Five, oh my god I have five more miles to go. I couldn't believe it, I had five more miles to go, 18 weeks of training down to less than an hour of running. Still no wall, no pain, no stopping for me, others all around were walking giving me more incentive to keep going.
Mile 22, completely missed the marker.
Mile 23, just a 5K left, just thirty more minutes. Don't quit now, you're so close, don't stop, do it for yourself, do it for everyone watching, just do it. No pain.
Mile 24, what's that? My calf is a tightening up. Quit thinking about it, just run.
Mile 25, I could see the city, could feel the end, could hear the crowds, the excitement, the energy.
800 Meters to go, sprint, go sprint, go, go go
400 Meters, you can do this in less than a minute, dead sprint, no pain! The crowds thickened, the cheering volume increased. What a feeling, what a great feeling! Everyone screaming, bells clanging, different languages, different people, different voices fueling. Everyone was sprinting, even the walkers. Everyone was reenergized. I hadn't ever ran like that after running so far, I didn't think I'd have the energy to go full stride, full cadence, I poured all my heart into that last 400 meters. Well all the heart I had left over after the first 26 miles. I ran through at 4:30 hour gun time, that's 4:15 chip time. I felt great! I couldn't help but smile like a kid at Christmas. It was amazing, more than words can describe.
I've likened it to a drug, now I want more, I want that feeling again. So I've already signed up for another half in November, and I'm going to sign up for the Birmingham Mercedes Marathon in Alabama. There is a possibility that I may sign up for the Vienna Marathon next April or run the Spirit of Saint Louis Full Marathon, I have the itch, I think I have a problem.
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