In other news, my lifting is finally back on track. Since I focus on strength and flexibility on days when I run PT, I can avoid running too much and eating away muscle mass. This has resulted in some nice gains over the past five months. In August when I started lifting in earnest again, I was much leaner and had geared myself toward running, having turned in a 13:20 two-mile run time on my PT test. Air Assault was another place where the running came in handy. But I, being me, couldn't stand being small and running a lot. So I ditched the heavy ardio workout plan. When I hit the gym the first time I was astonished. Most of my tendon strength was gone, as was the bulk of my muscle mass. As a result I was bench pressing a shameful 185 for 8 to 12 reps, depending on the day.
Fortunately, that didn't last long. Yesterday, I managed to put up 245 for 12 reps, followed by 225 for 8. I'm consistently leg pressing 390 pounds for 20 reps, and have ventured up to 420 but my bad left knee doesn't care for that too much. Hopefully I can work my joint strength up ever so slowly and hit 450 by June.
So, I am getting the strength back. It's taken more time than I would have hoped, but the grizzledness is slowly re-emerging.
To quote the great Ricky Clapp: "Proooo-tein-uhh!"
Their story is known to all of you. It is the story of the American man at arms. My estimate of him was formed on the battlefields many, many years ago, and has never changed. I regarded him then, as I regard him now, as one of the world's noblest figures; not only as one of the finest military characters, but also as one of the most stainless.
His name and fame are the birthright of every American citizen. In his youth and strength, his love and loyalty, he gave all that mortality can give. He needs no eulogy from me, or from any other man.
2LT Dennis Zilinski 1LT Benjamin "Brisket" Britt 1LT Garrison Avery 1LT Robert "Sly" Seidell 1LT Amos Camden Bock 1LT Michael Cerrone 1LT John Ryan Dennison 1LT David Fraser
For every ten of us who graduated, one of us is gone.
They died unquestioning, uncomplaining, with faith in their hearts, and on their lips the hope that we would go on to victory. Always for them: Duty, Honor, Country. Always their blood, and sweat, and tears, as they saw the way and the light.
Just in case you ever thought you worked with true idiots, allow me to give you the ultimate barometer for measuring stupidity.
This past weekend, one of our squadron medics got picked up for smoking weed outside of a bar in Watertown. He was smoking a joint while standing on the sidewalk among a large number of people, including a cop. This is the same genius who inprocessed at Division while drunk, at age 17. He then also got a DUI coming through the gate last month. What else can you say? There really is nothing. THe sad part is that he's a nice kid and a very good medic. Sadly, we have no first-line supervisors in the medic section who can adequately piss-pound him into nothing and rebuild him into a professional. We just have overweight turds.
Secondly, my counterpart platoon leader Ryan had Staff Duty this weekend. Aside from catching a soldier smoking weed IN THE BARRACKS, he also came upon the evidence of a soldier shooting a deer from his BARRACKS ROOM WINDOW and then cleaning the carcass outside the barracks front door. He apparently left all the rotting entrails right where they fell. Priceless. Just priceless.
And then to make matters even worse, the heroes on Extra Duty failed to clean the squadron classroom, so I had to forfeit my E-5 who was on SDNCO this weekend, along with Ryan, to go reclean it and have his ass chewed off by the Squadron XO.
I'm going to come right out and say what every real soldier wants to say: get the fat people out of the Army. The weight standards have changed! Now they actually measure women around their fat asses. No more cramming your gargantuan asses into PT shorts ladies. Times they are a changin.
Yes, I know the Army is full of fat guys too. They all need to go.
Headed to the gym on a Sunday, after I dispatch a HMMWV for tomorrow. Who works out on Sunday? Me. If you wanna know why, picture yourself, and then make that image about 100 times tougher. That's me.
I had an idea. I thought it would be a good idea to all the fucking idiots, whiners, and dregs of society and put them in one big group. I figured I'd give it some catchy name, like "the Army." I'd also create a shithole to send them all. I'd call it Iraq.
Back from NTC. Spent a long time last night drinking and taking stock in my life, trying to figure out what matters and what doesn't after a long stretch of work in the desert. I've whittled it down to a few things that mean something.
What a long strange trip that was. Days of it don't even exist in my memory. They're just lost to the wind and sand and sun. The desert is a miserable cocktail. But I drank it.
Never been so tired. It's not just my body. My spirit is fatigued. I'm exhausted to the core, and no amount of sleep leaves me feeling refreshed. Only now do I understand all the seemingly ridiculous lessons we learned about the power of stress. I put in more work there than I thought possible, to include the work to get us there and get us home. Between the battles I fought at NTC and the personal issues I've had on my plate, my spirit has been ground down. It needs a sleep I can't give it.
Here's me, doing my thing out there. Just some pictures.
Tonight I leave for NTC to spend 40 days in the box. Tent living in austere desert conditions, occasionally scaring myself shitless via desert flying. Should be a blast...
