Full of Want!

I don't care who you are, them's some nice shoes. Daddy want!

Gutless Fucking Coward

Posted without comment.

Awesome Shooty Goodness!

Shot the Warrior Support Match on Saturday. Couldn't ask for a better day of shooting. I shot like shit, but still, a great day of shooting. Also got some shooty goodness prizes. You know the box of ammo you win in a drawing is covered in 'awesome sauce' when it has "Varmint Grenade" on the label.

Anyway, thanks to all who serve our great nation, and thanks to all who supported our mission to provide needed equipment to them. I'll post an AAR later. Here's a couple of pics:

Piss In My Cheerios Why Don't You!

HPD came back and upheld the rejection. Something tells me I wouldn't have gone 2-for-2 on appeals anyway. If I really want HPD, then I have to wait a year before applying again.

It sux, but I'm moving forward. Now, if my family will quit trying to undermine my efforts with threats about failed marriages and assaults on my self-esteem I will be allright.

Next step is a private academy for my TCLEOSE basic peace officer certification. That should help my efforts.

I'll keep you posted.

Pulling My Head Out

Yesterday I was reminded of my wedding vows. I was reminded because I wasn't living up to my end of the contract I made with my wife before God, family and friends. I'm such a dumbass.

Today I'll be pulling my head outta my ass and getting back to the task at hand.

Waiting Game

Getting sick of the waiting game. Just had another meeting with the PD regarding my job references. All they asked was for me to explain being fired from three jobs and a bunch of other softball questions. I hope and pray that they like my answers enough to keep me in the applicant pool for the next academy. I should know more at the end of the month.

Tried out for another smaller department two weeks ago. Aced the POST test with nothing less than a 90%. The physical was a joke for me, too. Timed 1.5 mile run in 16:43 (2 minutes slower than my SEAL PT pace), :16 seconds for an agility run (Illinois Shuffle <:19 secs.), one rep bench press at 135# or 67% body weight, 15.5 inch vertical jump or better, 19 pushups, 300m sprint under 75 seconds (I finished at 60 seconds). There were 50 people in the written test, and 25 of us made it to the physical. I was stopped at the application process for the same reasons HPD is giving me grief. The drug issue is a major no-no for this PD. The recruiter told me that a) it was a Class B misdemeanor, and b) a health, safety and quality of life issue that the chief will not sign a waiver for. The job issue was a timeline thing. Last one was June 2008. So, on both parts I have to wait at least 5 years before applying with them again. I can do that.

That was a class act department. They spent more time and money making sure their officers were healthy than any in the region. They claim to have more training related injuries than OTJ injuries. Everyone from the chief on down has to pass the same physical test that I took every year. They test monthly, and everyone is invited to join, but only one counts, or they lose their job. That simple. A department that hires nutritionists and physical training specialists for their department. I think they want strong people working for them. Maybe they'll see me again in 5 years.

I've been lazy, I know. I still have 7 days of SEAL PT Bootcamp to lay out for you. I'll get to it as soon as I can. Been chasing around different departments here in town trying to get applications in. I do have a fallback set up if HPD falls through. I did apply to the local university's law enforcement academy. If HPD is a bust (and I pray it is not) I will start taking the night academy 5 days a week for nine months. That will get my TCLEOSE certification and make me a Texas Peace Officer. I'll have more clout when applying to other agencies then, and more time behind the jobs and drug issues.

October is almost here, and that means the "Warrior Support Match" is upon us. I'd appreciate more donations from the blogworld if possible. I've seen a few trickle in and I appreciate it. I also have a 'matching' sponsor lined up. He will match all donations I receive until the day of the match. Every little bit you provide will go directly to a sponsored unit in Iraq or the 'stan. None of the money raised goes to overhead costs. Everything from the prizes to the range are donated for the match. Hit the 'Donate Now' button at the sidebar if you want. Please pass this on to your friends, too.

Rejected Again

This is getting to be ridiculous. Just when I think everything is going my way, BLAMMO! I get blindsided by some B.S.

Just received another letter from the PD. My application is rejected again. This time for employment references. Whatever the heck does that mean? Did my past work history not meet a specific criteria? Did someone bad-mouth me at a job where I was fired? What? Speak to me, people!

I'm going to get the appeal out this weekend and let the chips fall where they may...again. I haven't even begun to fight, yet.

Support Our Troops - A Bleg

I know, I know...I owe you about 7 more days of SEAL PT Boot Camp suffering and misery. To tell the truth, every time I come back to the keyboard, I get a little woozy. Promises, promises.

One of my Boot Camp brethren (who graduated Class 155! HOOYAH, J!) was excited to find my blog, but disappointed to find only three days worth of reading. I think he was trying to gain an advantage. Can't say as I blame him. Way to use his noggin' to get the advantage over the instructors.

I digress. I do that a lot.


I want to do a bleg for something that is near and dear to my heart. The Warrior Support Match is in its second year. On October 17th, 60 men and women will get together at the Impact Zone in Waller, TX to shoot a charity 3-gun match. I participated last year and came in somewhere around the bottom of the pack. I don't care, I had a great time. Also won a Ken Onion Leek knife from Kershaw. I also donated one of my Camillus bush knives to the door prize table and saw it go to a good home.

The Warrior Support Match is the chance for us to raise money to purchase equipment and needed supplies for our men and women fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan. Each and every dollar collected goes straight to the purchase of necessary items. Comp-Tac, our primary sponsor, puts up the shipping cost, and other donors and sponsors donate time, money and other essentials so we can shoot and have fun. This keeps the overhead costs to zero and allows for more equipment to be purchased and shipped over.

Here's what Instructor Greg has to say about it:

For the last few years we have been sending gear to our troops in Iraq and Afganistan. They tell us what they need and we get it to them. We have been shocked to find that EOD guys need nomex (fire proof) jackets and that troops on the ground need reliable magazines for their hand guns. And every soldier needs to know that the folks back home are supporting them. Berretta M9 magazines, nomex, lights, knives, slings, coffee and bore snakes are some of the requests. The suppliers generally offer deep discounts, which adds 10% to 100% more gear to each shipment. I pay for the shipping to Iraq. There are no overhead costs. When our contacts rotate home, we find new ones. All our Iraq
contacts are either personal friends of ours, or vouched for by people we trust. All the gear goes to the troops. The fact I receive thank you notes from individual soldiers confirms this.

That's it in a nutshell. I'm just asking for some help covering my entry fee. I've pledged $200 to secure my slot in this match. I'll be damned if I can't go because I can't raise the money. Times are tough for us all, and it is all I can do to scrounge the ammo up to compete in this match. If you are of a mind to hit the Tip Jar at the top right of my page, I'd greatly appreciate it. Don't know what I can do to repay you, but I will do so on this site. I'm not asking for a lot from you, but every bit helps. Please pass this on and link so that the word is spread. We are of a like mind, and want nothing more that to see our troops have the tools they need to win the fight and come home safe.

Recipients of last year's donations. Over $15,000 was collected to help outfit this Air Cav unit with pistol and rifle magazines, socks, bore snakes, dip, beef jerky, Leatherman multi-tools, etc.

We were also able to provide Nomex jackets to an EOD unit over there. Something as simple as fire protection left out of their TO&E. They ask, and we make sure they receive. So can you, if you hit the donate button on the toolbar.Just because we don't hear about it on the news as often doesn't mean the soldiers aren't still fighting in a foreign land. They need our help and support.

The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday!

DAY 3 - 0500 - Today is the day I'm fired as class leader. I went down in a fantastic blaze of glory. I took down the entire class, too.

Remember how I mentioned the class leader is responsible for formation and head count before Instructor Walston arrives? Well, guess who didn't set aside his ego long enough to think straight and get the damn job done? Yup, yours truly.
We were stretching in the parking lot just a couple feet from our usual formation spot. Walston comes blazing up in his truck and we rush to our places. We barely beat him to the punch, but were in the wrong spot. That got us some pushups. I should have known it was going to get worse when the instructor I refer to as 'The Hawk' showed up. This was gonna hurt.

"GET YOUR ASSES TO THE RUGBY FIELD, NOW!!!"

After DAY 2, I could not lift my arms above my head. Heck, getting them up to shoulder level was a massive chore. Never in my time with SEAL PT did I ever think I would do so much.

We ran to the field and proceeded to start what I refer to as the "Rugby Field Death March, Pt. 2." Start in the same position, right face, start crawling.

I got about 75 yards when the fun really began.

"WHAT'S THE COUNT, CLASS LEADER!?" Instr. Walston barked.

"UNKNOWN, INSTRUCTOR!" I replied.

I didn't have the count, and got reamed for it. Both Walston and the Hawk were on me from the get. The lesson was very clear. I was fired as class leader for lack of attention to detail. It is a mistake I will never in my life repeat. When someone gives me an order, or job to carry out, I will make sure it is completed. I will ensure that the job is done to Instructor Walston's standards. Not mine.

By the time I crawled to the midfield point, they were through yelling at me. I was uncerimoniously fired by this time. I was pissed off, too. I let the team down for the second straight day. The Hawk didn't let me forget my lesson that easy. He had me drop down and face to the north. By now, I'm on my belly facing back the way I came. "Now roll around the field. And you better not be last today!" he said.

I started doing reverse somersaults down the length of the field. This field has not seen rain in some time. Houston, Tx. was in a drought situation at the time (and still is). The ground was rock hard, torn up and rutted from everyone using the soccer pitch on a daily basis, and filled with detritus that makes me glad my tetanaus was up to date. I could feel the rocks and hard ground with every rotation. I could also feel my equilibrium slipping away. I sucked it up, manned up, and stuffed the nausea back down to complete my task. I have a lot of respect for Instr. Hawk. A lot. I know a bit of that man's personal background, and admire his leadership skills. I wanted to redeem myself in his eyes. I knew I failed him along with my team, and it hurt. I used that energy to get moving.

Instr. Walston walked off to torture the Lifers and Body Camp crew for a while. This left Instr. Hawk to circle above us and strike when necessary. He didn't say a word when I heard Walston from over 200 yards away yell that we had a couple of quitters. Our most timid female in the group just up and walked off. One of the others went with her. At least he paid attention and made sure she was not alone. No one goes anywhere (head, car, surf zone) without a 'swim-buddy.' The other guy did his job and came back when it was clear that Ms. "Mouse" was through. She later stated in an email that Walston intimidated the poo out of her. She wouldn't hear any of our pleas to come back. Done. Fine.

Hawk paid us a treat for finishing the bear crawl. Eight-count body builders. This is his special way of making you pay for your errors. And when one person screws up, everyone pays the price. Twenty 8-counts later and we were thrashed. But the hits just keep on coming. We ran back to our workout mats to grab water. Three seconds after that, we were grouped in three-person teams to fireman carry across the parking lot. Easier said than done.

I tuned out at this point. I was only listening for my name or whatever order the instructors were giving during this evolution. It was better for my group because I found the humor in the situation. I started quietly singing a Navy run cadence to take my mind off the pain in my arms and shoulders. My crew and another next to us joined in the whispered cadence and were chuckling. I'm sure Hawk heard, but he didn't let on. Let us have our moment of defiance, he'll see to us later.
We reached the end of the parking lot. Instr. C was there to give our shoulders further torture. As Walston said before he left, they were to "TORTURE THE PISS OUTTA THEM!" We dropped to the leaning rest. I was still not out of the woods.

I should note that this is where my recollection of events gets reeaaaalll hazy.

Instr. Hawk: "Mr. Shooter, what time is it?"

Me (in the leaning rest, breathing heavily): "Oh-six-fifty-five, INSTRUCTOR!!!"

Hawk: "Wrong answer, try again." He never yells at you. The man always uses a level tone of voice.

Me (staring intently at my watch face willing the numbers to read what I say): "Oh-six-fifty-five, INSTRUCTOR!!!"

Hawk: "Wrong again. Will someone please explain the world to Mr. Shooter?"

Class Gimp (I'll get to him later): "Time is Oh-FIVE-Fifty-Five, Instructor!"

Fifteen minutes later, my vision returns to see Instructor Hawk holding two fingers in my face asking: "How many fingers am I holding up, Dummy?!"

My team later recounted to me that as I recovered with the group to get wet n' sandy, I started to stumble, fall, and babble incoherently. Hawk got me on the ground, head between my legs. Instr. C ran the group through surf zone and got them out of the way. By my watch fifteen minutes had passed. I don't remember any questions or whatever I said in response. Hawk stated that I answered everything correctly, and never lost consciousness. He had me douse with the hose and rest under a small tree for about ten more minutes. After that, he ordered me to either a) move at a pace faster than a crawl, or slower than a jog, or b) slowly walk back to the PT area. Those were my only choices, so I took 'em. I opted for B. It took me a long time to walk back. I stopped to dry heave once, and one more time to rest against a bollard (short wooden pole). When I rejoined the group, every eye was on me. I was ordered to sit down and drink water. Every time Hawk checked on me, I asked to return to the group. He put me through a couple of balance tests to judge my recovery and I failed each one. "Sit down before you fall down," he instructed.

(yeah, that's me on my butt after 'bonking'. the grey shirt is Instr. Chang, our shoulder expert)

As he later recounted to me in an email, Hawk said I'm lucky this wasn't a real world exercise. As a SEAL, he's seen this before and advised I'd have been given oral glucose, smelling salts, and a rectal thermometer. Yeah, I don't think I want that sort of treatment. Per him, this is what happens when you are at a low fitness level and high motivation level. It didn't dawn on me to eat a proper breakfast before workout. My usual during Body Camp was a large glass of water and vitamins. From now on, I was ordered to eat a banana and a granola bar (something with oats in it for the carbs). It helped.

I'm not proud of that day at all. I pushed too hard and went 'bonk.' Didn't really scare me, or panic me at all. I didn't know what happened until afterwards. It was a big wake-up for me, though. This is what happens when I don't focus and go too hard. This was a lesson that will help me in the police academy. I have Instructor Hawk to thank.

The team was glad I made it through. They were worried for the most part, and so was I.

I should have called in sick to work for the day, but that would have been admitting failure. I didn't get any work done because my stomach was so topsy-turvy and my brain was mush. I came back for DAY 4 stronger and ready for whatever came down the pipe. Bring it, Walston. I'm ready.

HOOYAH!

Class 154 - Crash Test Dummies

SEAL PT Boot Camp has come and gone for the month of June. I'm still alive, but barely. It seems that if you don't eat a good breakfast before a hard workout, you will pass out, or go nug bucking futs loopy for the better part of an hour....or day in my case.

DAY 1 - 0400 - Woke up, donned my workout clothes, headed to Memorial Park. Got there about thirty minutes before class was supposed to start. Okay, so far so good. Bunch of folks there, some I didn't know, some I did. We stretched and those that were in 'Gators with me helped get the rest in some sort of line before Instr. Walston and crew showed up.
0500 - Hell. Breaks. Loose. Instructor Walston was on us like a cheap suit. Barking out orders to drop. Push out some pushups, turn around, bear crawl (this will be our 'favorite' exercise in coming days) to the treeline, bear crawl back. More pushups. Run the length of the parking lot. SPRINT!!!! Sit ups. SPRINT!!! Now comes the fun part: Get wet n' sandy.

Getting wet n' sandy entails a full-speed run to the water hoses some 300-ish yards away. There, we are met by Instr. C. He is a white-shirt training under Walston's tutelage to become a Navy SEAL. He is very good. He's been in the program a while and is every part the poster child for the Navy. White T-shirt, black shorts, does his pushups ramrod straight. He orders us down on our backs for some flutter kicks. Never mind that the ground is soaking wet and about three inches deep mud and muck. Thirty of us get in tight and bust out our 20 three-count flutter kicks. All the time, Instr. C is hosing us with some cool water. He yells to get on our stomachs. Face down we go and bust out some more pushups. By this time, the weak and uninitiated are feeling the pain of the pushups. They struggle through. We get threatened with more suffering if they don't commit and push 'em out. Mind you, there is a hose pelting us in the face, back, legs, chest with cold water. It's not even light out yet. The Dunkin' Donuts haven't been made. Now...GET SANDY!!!! HURRY UP!!! RUN!!
About 100 yards distant is the volleyball pit. Our little slice of Coronado. The beach. Full. Of. Sand. Run all out, drop down and get sand in every crack and crevice you can find. Help the sorority sisters out by dumping sand on them. Help the CPA get bigger handfuls.

I made the fatal mistake of opening my big mouth to motivate everyone and try to educate on proper 'get sandy' technique. This brought the ire of Instructor H. Since there are two Instructor Hs, I'll call him Instructor Mouth (he loves the sound of his own voice). Instr. M has now dubbed me "Chatty Cathy," cuz I can't stop trying to help my classmates get sandy. I am also named class leader. This is not good.

We line up in two lines to run back to the PT area. We are covered head to toe in sand. Yes, it gets everywhere. Yes, it is annoying. We learn fast to block it out. This is all a mental exercise to see how we deal with the discomfort. This is only the first 30 minutes of an hour-and-a-half workout.

We are subjected to more of the same torture and suffering that went on the first thirty minutes. Bear crawls, pushups, sit ups, jumping jacks, cromwells, you name it. In between it all, we sprint the parking lot. Instructor Walston is there the entire class to instruct us on proper form for each exercise. He also yells, motivates and finds unique ways to harangue us during the workout. He lets the second Instr. H lead us through some sprint exercises for the last ten minutes of class. Loser drops and does 25 pushups.

The sprints are where it all goes wrong for our class. One of our crew was running flat out in his race against our resident gazelle and tripped on his own feet. The only two body parts to hit the pavement first were his eyebrow and cheekbone. He tore a gash in his head about four inches across as he slid across the pavement to a stop. He refused ambulance service, we patched him up with a first aid kit from my truck, and carted him off to his house.*

* I saw him back in 'Gators last week. He healed up nicely.

DAY 2 - 0500 - "HOOYAH, INSTRUCTOR WALSTON" is our new morning greeting. Back for more, we are. Here is where we get our uniform shirts and whatever else we ordered when we signed up for the class. Lots of yelling and screaming for us to hurry up and put on the shirts. Some of the girls were being dainty about it, but they mustered through when no one else seemed perturbed by the immodesty of exposing their jog bra to the elements. While everyone else waits, those in line for shirts do arm circles non-stop. Those just getting gear don it and drop for pushups. At no time do we rest. At most, we get 3 or 4 seconds to gulp water at 45 minutes into our workout. Every other time is spent doing some exercise or evolution. It never ends. It drains you mentally and physically for that entire class.

Now we get introduced to the rugby field. This will be our friend for the next couple of days. I will not like it. Why, you ask? Funny thing about being class leader...I'm responsible for the head count and proper formation. Neither of which I had this particular day. Yeah, we got dropped for that faux paus. Bear crawled over 100 yards first thing.

Once we were squared away, and our very own 'white shirt' Mr. Taylor received his gear (20# weight bar/"SAW", H Harness with weights in every pack and pouch) it was on to the field. What started out as a simple running exercise turned into a goat rope about three laps in. Here's the evolution: Start at one end of the field and do XX number of whatever exercise we were told. Sprint to the end and do XX number of the next exercise Instr. Walston says. Repeat. We got through about 5 laps before Instr. Walston blew his stack. Mind you, it is completely dark on this field. We have a hard time seeing each other. Out of our thirty we are down to 25, and of those 25 there are a handful of friends I call the 'Sorority Sisters.' Well, one of the debutantes of "Delta, Delta, Delta" kept asking Instructor Walston what the next exercise was as she passed by him in the dark.
Not too hard to miss in the dark. He's standing smack-dab in the middle of the field yelling at us.

So, where was I? Oh yeah, sorority girl asks, and Instr. Walston promptly blows his stack. Heck, my daddy never yelled at me the way this man does. And Walston doesn't swear, either. He had us all line up on the goal line and drop. We are berated for being dumb enough to ask the instructor about exercises when we should have learned NOT TO DO SO. While in the leaning rest we 'right face' and start bear crawling. I got about 120 yards before I heard Instr. Walston hand off to Instr. T (the Hawk) and tell him to keep us crawling. No reason for me to continue here. We bear crawled the circumfrence of that entire rugby field. I mean the whole damn thing. Three. Hundred. Sixty. Yards. On our hands and feet. I was dead last. My swim buddy, Ms. Mandy, actually crawled back to me (some 150 yards after she finished) to motivate me. I was back on the far goal line by this time crying. I was in severe pain. I was not going to quit. My shoulders were on fire and my back was killing me. Ms. Mandy kept right beside me doing everything in her power to get me to move faster. At times, I went down to my elbows and shuffled forward some more. I stopped for 10 or more seconds at other times (still had 80 yards or so to go). Each time I went down, Ms. Mandy kept right on yelling. I finished while the others waited, cheering me on, in the leaning rest (pushup position).

That took us to the final sprint down to the "Surf Zone" to get wet and sandy for the last evolution. Thankfully, the last evolution was pushups and sit ups before leaving.

Just writing this made my shoulders ache. I'll regale you with the famous DAY 3 tomorrow.

HOOYAH!

Catching Up

WOW! Been a while. Need to clear up a few things before we continue.

I'm still here, first of all. Don't worry, haven't shoved off for that non-extradition country just yet.

We'll start with most recent dealings first and work back.

1. Windage and Swede are already in Sweden for a ten day holiday with the folks. Just linked up on Skype this morning (evening for them). Lil' bit handled the flight over like a pro. Swede was thankful for other passengers with lil' tots on the flight. That's one flight down, one more to go. I can breathe easier for now.
2. Thursday last was Windage's first birthday. We were to celebrate over the 4th of July weekend, but she popped a 101.2 fever hours before the party. A cold brought on by teething has run its course through our household. Put me off my feed for the better part of the week. Swede is still a bit out of sorts, too.
3. Got good news on Windage's birthday. Sort of an added bonus. Received a call from my HPD Background Investigator. It's official, the background investigation has commenced. Bad news, the next academy class is still listed as March 2010. I'm still praying for a government bailout.
4. Still plugging away at dad's office as a part-time law clerk. Been fun for the most part. Only work four days a week and take care of Windage all day Friday. Got an interesting case they are working on, and it takes everyone to stay on top of it.
   
5. Started the Lifers program with SEAL PT. Starts thirty minutes earlier in the AM, still an hour long, they run a bit farther and harder. Added bonus, they have a six week swim program. The downside is it is only one morning a week. I'd prefer two or three. We're broken into three groups; Rock, Fish, & Duck. Guess which category I fall into?
6. Boot Camp was a huge success. I will detail a day-by-day post in a bit with photos. Not as bad as I thought or stressed about even though I'm told I didn't lose consciousness on Day 3, but was loopy as hell.

That's it in a nutshell. I now return you to your regular programming.

HOOYAH!

Tomorrow morning is where all hell breaks loose. I start SEAL PT Boot Camp. I'm excited. I've been in the Body Camp program since February getting in shape for whichever police academy hires me first (*fingers crossed for HPD). I decided to do it after Swede offered to pay for my next six weeks of workout at the end of April. Better to keep motivated and exercising than sitting on my butt all day.

Instructor Walston will kick it off by kicking our butts. We get to experience everything the SEALS go through during BUD/S phase 1. Only less so. As I read somewhere on the site, we only experience about 20% of what SEALS go through during Hell Week. We do it for 10 days straight. I'm just doing it for the t-shirt and bragging rights really. I feel confident about my fitness level, and now just want to see if my mental game is as strong as I think it is.

I'll blog it daily to let you know what goes on. That is, if my arms don't fall off from the push ups.

This Weekend Is Not About The Mattress Sales...

Nor is it about the Indy 500.

To all who currently serve, our thanks and appreciation.

To all who have served, our appreciation and respect.

To all who have made the ultimate sacrifice in defense of our freedoms, God Bless You.

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
— Lt.-Col. John McCrae (1872 - 1918)

Boot Camp

Just 10 more days before I start Boot Camp. I'm getting excited now. Starting at 5am, June 1st, I'll be busting my arse with several other men and women who think they've got what it takes to get in shape.

There's no reason I can't do this. I've been getting up early five days a week to work out with this crew since February. What started out as a 3 month plan to get in shape for the police academy has become an addiction. No lie! This is my new crack. I feel better about myself, have more energy, and can fit a pair of Wranglers I haven't squeezed into in over five years. Who wouldn't want to do this?

Some people tell me I'm crazy for getting up early to have a former SF Operator/Instructor yell at me to do push-ups, or 8 count body-builders, or skull-crushers. It is not crazy. I get more benefit from a structured setting such as this. We work as a team in some respects to complete exercises, and it helps to have someone cheering you on and pushing you past your comfort zone.

For instance: Wednesday was a running day. The only way out of running (it can be miserable if you don't have any breaks) was to hold the push-up position while doing "xylophone push-ups." Those are push-ups where everyone is in a large circle and one person starts with one push-up. The second person follows with one, and so on and so forth until everyone does one. Then they go to two. And three, four...all the way to ten. In the meantime, you are in the up push-up position waiting your turn. We were allowed to get our butts in the air to relieve pressure on our backs, or butts down (think cobra pose in yoga). Anyone who went to their knees had to run. Slowly but surely, people started to fall out and run. It probably took twenty minutes to complete the evolution, but it felt like an eternity. Out of the 30 Lifers and 8 Navigators (of which I am one) I was the only 'Gator left with seven other Lifers.

This was a prime example of the instructor getting us out of our personal comfort zones. At any other time, I might have dropped and started running, too. I didn't want to run, and wanted to see how I stacked up against the Lifers, some of whom run marathons for fun. It was a huge personal challenge for me, and to hear the instructor single me out for whatever reason meant I was doing something right. I even remember as my shoulders were burning from exertion how my Navigator teammates were cheering for me as they passed us on their run. The rest of the hour was spent doing wind sprints and ab or chest exercises between sprints. I was so buoyed by my success, that the sprints were a breeze. Yeah, it was exhausting, but it was well worth it. To see how far I could push my body before it could go no more is part of the reason why I get up in the morning.

Sixteen weeks into this program I am seeing huge results. While it is only a core muscle program, I do see better definition on my body (even though the beer gut hasn't been signifigantly reduced), less fat and more muscle mass. I mentioned increased energy and alertness, too. Getting out of my comfort zone wasn't too hard in the beginning, I was only trying to keep up. Now, I'm working just as hard to stay interested at times. We have a new instructor a couple of days a week. While I see the method to his madness, I fail to gain any physical benefit from his workouts. I feel a bit cheated, but get the benefit of his guidance nonetheless. He has been working more to instruct us in proper technique this past week over heavy exercise. I feel a bit gipped when I return to my car and my shirt isn't soaked through. I know he's teaching more to the few of us gearing up for Boot Camp so we don't fall flat on our faces, or get injured.

Boot Camp is going to be 10 times worse according to the Lifers who've gone before. I can expect to get wet and sandy every day for 10 days. I will be yelled at and dropped for the smallest of errors. We will run 3 to 4 miles daily with 10 pound packs on our backs. According to the program's founder, we will only be operating at 20% of what real SEALS go through in training. It will be a non-stop meat grinder. I will graduate the program.

I plan on daily blog posts with pics to give you a sense of what goes on. I encourage you to check out the website, or, if you are in New York or Houston, check out the program for yourself. If you are looking to ramp up your workout, this would be a great place to start. The biggest worry for me was if I'd be able to keep up. After I got through the first couple of weeks and minor aches and pains, I was impressed at how quickly I improved.

HOOYAH!

Moving Forward...No Lie!

Okay, haven't received the letter, but I got an email from my recruiter at HPD. My application rejection was overturned on appeal. Now, I'm on to the next phase in the application process...polygraph. I got as far as filling out that paperwork before getting the dreaded "Bah-Bye" Letter from HPD.

The recruiter passed my file on to a supervisor for assignment to a polygraph examiner. So, in a couple of weeks I should be hooked up to the machine to see if I'm a truthful guy or not. I know I am. This shouldn't be too hard. I think the nerves of a polygraph exam come from the fact I've never taken one, and I have no idea what to expect. Various sources have told me it is a mental drain, and the examiner will do everything he/she can to trip you up. It is their job to do so.

I'm not gonna rush ahead like I did last time. Next is polygraph. When I'm through that phase, good or bad, I'll update on here.

Keep praying for me.