“Today we’re going to run 1-mile for time!” said my Junior High Physical Education teacher. I wasn’t even sure how long a mile was or how long it would take, but it seemed like an insurmountable distance. Was this punishment? Had we done something wrong as a class? Why are we being forced to run 4-laps? My mind raced back to all the decisions I made earlier that week that would warrant such a punishment from “coach”.
Up until this moment, running was punishment. I started playing baseball at 5yrs old and wrestling at 8. On the diamond, “taking a lap” around the warning track was a common corrective measure when you did something wrong. On the wrestling mat, being a smart and intuitive wrestler was second only to fitness. Again, running always seemed like punishment. Something the coaches made us do because we weren’t good enough. Not fit enough. Not fast enough.
Now here I was, standing at the starting line of our school track, wondering what I must have done to warrant a punishment of 4-laps! My thoughts were broken by the sound of coach’s whistle, everyone took off! Wait, was this a race? I didn’t know what was happening, so I took off like everyone else.
I only made it 1-lap. A mere 400m. After that first lap, I just couldn’t believe coach was making us do 3 more. We must have really messed up somewhere.
Looking back I don’t remember my finishing time, but I do remember being tired and really not enjoying what just happened. I was sweaty, miserable and overall still feeling like this was punishment for some unknown infraction.
Up into High School sports, running was punishment. It was my senior year that the Cross Country coach tried to recruit me to join the team. As far as I could tell, this man was speaking Chinese! He was saying things like “It’s Fun!” and “We only run 5 Kilometers”. After some quick math and figuring out that was 3.11 miles, my mind flashed back to that day on the middle school track. I’d have to run 12-laps! I must have really fucked up! What kind of person runs 5K? I just couldn’t understand it.
I didn’t join the Cross Country team. Why would I punish myself like that? It just didn’t make sense.
Instead I joined the Unites States Army! Moreover, I joined to be a “Paratrooper”, an Airborne Soldier. A light fighter in “This man’s Army”. That was 1999.
It was in Basic Combat Training at Fort Sill, OK that I started to realize I was good at running. It still wasn’t fun and the Drill Sergeants had a unique ability to ensure you were NEVER fast enough and running faster and farther was punishment for not meeting their standards.
I slowly worked into the “A” group in Basic Training and Advanced Individual Training (AIT) where we were consistently running 6 minute miles for 3 to 5 miles at a time. I looked around and saw I was doing better than 90% of my peers. That felt good, but running still sucked.
Airborne school was relatively easy and the “Airborne Standard” of 4-miles in 36 minutes was easy as compared to my Drill Sergeants in the “A” group. Again I was in the top 10% of the class for fitness, that felt good but running still sucked.
ALL THE WAY!
The U.S. Army had a place for me! In America’s Guard of Honor in the prestigious 82nd Airborne Division at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. I reported to my unit on a Thursday. The next morning, reality would round-house kick me to the face.
It was 0630 and my Noncommissioned Officer (NCO) was leading us on a run. He informed us we would be going for 5 miles and would be done in about 30 minutes followed by another 30 minutes of pushups, situps and pullups. At a 6 min/mile for 5 miles, my mind raced to figure out what I must have done to fuck up this bad. This is surely punishment!
I didn’t make it. I “Fell Out” as they say.
The rest of the team kept going. I couldn’t keep up. It was disheartening. I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t part of the team. It felt horrible. Prior to this I was always in the top 10% of my peers. Now I wasn’t good enough. Welcome to the 82D ABN DIV.
As the weeks and months went on, I was consistently “Falling Out” of runs. This meant I wasn’t meeting the standard and that meant my career would be stunted. If you couldn’t run, you wouldn’t get promoted, get to attend military schools and would always be on the “weekend duty roster” somehow. I was now being punished for not being able to run. Something had to change.
Enter “OZZY”
I don’t know why, but a senior E4 (Specialist) decided to befriend me and take me under his wing. He changed my life.
“Ozzy” was odd, weird and different from everyone else. His barracks room was filled with books, he listened to NPR and the BBC on the radio. He didn’t own a T.V or a computer. He hiked, ran and biked. He was an intellectual who didn’t waste his time drinking all weekend. Moreover, Ozzy could run. He was among the best! He didn’t look like a runner. He wasn’t tall or slender and was considered by many to be “pudgy”, just barely making the Army bodyfat standards. But the man could run!
It started on Saturday mornings. He convinced me that if I just dedicated 1 hour of my Saturday morning to running, my career would change. He was 100% Correct.
We started running together on Saturday mornings. Our distances ranged from 4 miles to 8 and it increasingly got more difficult. I don’t know when it happened. I can’t put a date to it. But it happened. I didn’t “Fall Out” of a run. Moreover, not only did I not fall out, but out of the 100 Paratroopers who started that morning, I was one of 8 left running with the First Sergeant (1SG). I was again in the to 10% and it felt great! I never fell out of another unit run for the next 12 years of my short Army career.
Apparently to Ozzy, “not falling out” wasn’t enough. He signed me up for the Army 10-miler on Fort Bragg. This was an incredible distance! Out of the 1200 people in my Battalion, there were less than 5 that ran Marathons or Half Marathons and less than 10 of us signed up for the Army 10-miler. This was another level!
Not only did Ozzy want to run the Army 10-miler, in June in North Carolina. But we would “steal” the Battery Guidon and run with it the entire way. The “Guidon” is wooden Flag Pole approximately 7ft in height with your unique unit flag at the top. Running was one thing, running while carrying a guidon was another.
We did it! We finished the Fort Bragg Army 10-miler while carrying the Guidon. We finished under 80-minutes and enjoyed a rather large Army DFAC breakfast. Our Commander and 1SG were pretty upset we stole the Guidon, but for accomplishing such a feat as the Army 10-miler, running it with the ONLY guidon on the course and finishing under 80-minutes, they couldn’t help but smile.
They gave us a 3-day weekend for representing the Battery. We were the only people in our 200 person Battery to run it. We were elite runners now. After that Army 10-miler my career started to change. I was no longer on the weekend duty roster, I was getting waivers for advanced promotion and was able to attend military schools.
It changed the trajectory of my career. It changed my life.
Running was no longer a punishment. Running was fun, it resulted in my life being better. It resulted in being a better Paratrooper and a better leader. It built resiliency and toughness. Running was something I did with my friend. Running was fun.
It’s been 21 years since we ran that Army 10-miler and I’m still running today.
Ozzy was a massive influence on me as a young Paratrooper. It’s no surprise to me that his path took him to the pinnacle of U.S. Army Special Operations. He is a true Quiet Professional who served America in the hardest of times in the most austere environments. Thanks Ozzy!
As you follow my journey to the Marathon, you’ll find a recurring theme. My friends are amazing people and amazing runners. Without them, I don’t know where I’d be.