GORUCK Challenge - 9/11 Tribute

This one was my own fault. I mean, I volunteered to fly up to New York City mere days after climbing mountains in Colorado. I could have stayed home and enjoyed the first weekend of the NFL. I had tickets to an FSU game that would have been fun. It's my own fault. But, when a pretty girl tells me she has a place to stay in Hell's Kitchen only a few minutes' walk from Times Square... and it's $60 a night... I can't rightly say 'no,' can I?

Not when it's the GORUCK Challenge 9/11 memorial ruck, I can't.

View from the apartment

I've been to NYC several times, but experiencing the city (a city I LOVE, by the way) during 9/11 tribute time is something special. I landed on Friday afternoon and did what GRTs (Goruck alumni, for you lay-people) are wont to do. I met up with others to drink. This would be something oft-repeated over the course of the long weekend.

Eight of us (I think...? Was it more? Seeing double makes it hard to count.) joined forces to rent an apartment on the 44th floor of a nice complex, and it worked out great. We drank. We ate. We napped (some of us). And, then we met up near the NY Stock Exchange with three full classes of ruckers intent on showing their respect to those that perished 11 years earlier in the only way we knew how: We would punish ourselves for no reason whatsoever.

Oh, it made sense. Don't look at me like that.

About 90 ruckers stepped off at Wall Street (mere feet from where George Washington took the first presidential oath of office) and headed toward the East River. There, on the side of the syringe-laden waters, we did PT for about an hour. Bear crawls. Push-ups. Inchworms. Squats. 403.... 403... 403.

Welcome party along the East River

403. Four-hundred and three. That's the number of first responders that entered the twin towers that day and never made it out. As we held that push-up position, and GRC cadre barked out abstract terms like respect, honor, and commitment, I thought about those 403 and what they were thinking as they ran inside.

Push-ups are nothing.

We were sticky, sweaty, and emotionally drained... perfect time for some water PT. In the East River. This was healthy. We also found a log that NYC bums appeared to use as a toilet. Also... very healthy. This log was then lugged all over lower Manhattan.

Seriously, stop looking at me like that. It totally makes sense.

For 8 hours, we fought the night, our cadre (Chris), that log, and drunken New Yorkers. Then, the rains hit and hit hard. We handed off the log to another class and took their coupons (sand and plywood) in exchange. Good riddance to the craplog...

We jumped in the Hudson River. We buddy carried through a neighborhood comprised largely of people with chauffeurs and expense accounts. We played the most insane, sadistic version of Duck, Duck, Goose around the Washington Park fountain that I have ever seen. We blindly ignored the "Don't Get in Fountain" signs as we bobbed up and down reciting the Spongebob Squarepants theme song (okay, you know what? Fine.. it doesn't make sense.) It was exhausting and inspiring. We fought our way back to Ground Zero only to be detoured by Chris after he found a flooded and muddy baseball field.

The 9/11 patch

We split into teams and crawled, crab-walked, and bear-crawled around the bases. It pays to be a winner. It also pays to cheat... which means it devolved into a disastrous, disgusting mud fight on the banks of the lower East Side. To think, if Chris had been arrested earlier that night (a distinct possibility given the night's events and the cops' warnings), we would have missed out on that lovely event.

We had time hacks to the end point. Casualties mounted as we neared... Chris wasn't happy with our pace even though we were moving faster than we had in the past 12 hours. We had all of our coupons and six casualties to carry as we made the final push.

We survived. Chris, a sadistic bastard that I had met over beers after the July 4th ruck in DC and who had led our climbs out in Colorado, handed out patches to some desperately thankful new GRTs and alumni alike. The special 9/11 patch we received will always remind me of the 403...

Class 238 - Hoorah

The 9/11 ruck wasn't more difficult or crazier than the others I've done, but it meant something different. That's for sure. Several of us went down to Ground Zero on 9/11 to 'feel' the atmosphere. Not knowing what to expect, I braced myself for a solemn morning.

O'Hara's Bar at the foot of the Towers on 9/11/12

Instead, we found laughter and friendship. Firefighters from all over the country converged on local bars amid the bonds of brotherhood. They'd never met each other, but they shared something... much like GRTs that have never met. Having someone stop me because I am in a GORUCK shirt and talk to me like an old friend is oddly calming. And, this is coming from someone that hates talking to other people more than he hates eating green peas. [Note: I really hate green peas.]

On 9/11, there are cops everywhere. Ostensibly, it's to secure the area and prevent anything dangerous from happening while keeping the thousands of on-lookers at bay. But, I talked to several of these guys and saw it in their faces. They weren't there because they were working. They were there because they wanted to be. They were making pilgrimages of their own, even if it was on the clock.

New York is a great city. The traffic is horrible. The people are aloof and largely dispassionate to those around them. But, that's because they have to be. There are just too many of them walking around. I ran around Central Park in the days following the ruck and had a great time. People were everywhere, but I might as well have been by myself (or, at most, with my running buddy, Cary). It's amazing to be surrounded by people and feel so independent.

Some people hate the big city... if my job allowed me to live there, I would in a heartbeat....

It's worth noting that I deleted about 1500 words from the end of this blog that went into some detail as to how the rest of the long weekend panned out. As I reread it, the stories of friends ripping off their pants in bars, getting roofied and wandering the streets until 8AM, and passing out face-first on an Ottoman didn't come across as 'high culture.' Plus, I would have felt bad identifying them (especially the one that decided to sleep walk and urinate all over the apartment).

But, they know who they are...

It's worth noting that we DID go see Phantom of the Opera. Yea, that's right. It wasn't all about the drinking.

I'd seen the play before, but it was quite good.

Then, we went drinking.

Lower Manhattan from the deck of the Empire Sate Building

GORUCK Ascent 2012- Resentment to Redemption

"Hey, let's go climb some big-ass mountains!"

There was a time (I call these years my "smart years"), when I had those stupid conversations with friends in bars... and they stayed there. I'd wake up the next day and ignore the fact that I'd promised my friends - mere hours earlier - that I'd drive to Vegas with them next weekend or pool our money for a jetski. When you're drunk in a bar, everything asinine sounds like the best idea you've ever had. If I followed through with any number of inane plans, I'd be living in Key West and running a bar that sold only Pina Coladas, tacos, and fortune cookies. The Hunt for Red October and the Back to the Future trilogy would be played on a loop over the bar.

Don't judge me.

Back then, my friends and I would never bring up our convoluted, drunken plans the next day for fear that one of us may have actually been serious. Ah, the good ole days.

Now, when I come up with something stupid to do... it only makes MORE sense in the morning. Stupid alcohol... killing brain cells and whatnot. Sadly, my travels have introduced me to others with similar failings, and we egg each other on.

"Yea, filling a beer bottle full of tequila and chugging it DOES sound like a good idea!"

"Well, I suppose you COULD do that, but why not do it while carrying a huge rucksack full of bricks?"

Yea, why not...

So, as a graduate of the GORUCK College of Poor Decision-Making (read about some of my poor decisions in Savannah, Washington DC, or the GORUCK Challenge in general), I latched on to some of these buffoons for some jackassery in the Collegiate Peaks area of Colorado where we would be climbing 14,000 ft peaks in a masochistic ritual that has become known as GORUCK Ascent.

This exercise in insanity began (for me) on the Thursday before Labor Day at Cadre Brian's place near Nederland, CO. I say "for me" because I opted out of the optional Gun Day on Wednesday. Though the opportunity to fire off hundreds of rounds of ammo with America's Special Forces was enticing, the price was a bit much for my tastes. Plus, since I have a standing invitation from a friend (when we doing that again, Geoff?) to go back up to Quantico and play war with the USMC Competitive shooting team, I have been wholly spoiled. In one day last year, we blasted through thousands of rounds of ammo thanks to the SVT, AK-47, M110, A5, PKMs, M4, MP5... No offense to the GORUCK folks, but you can't compete with that.

So, we arrived Thursday and spent it learning rope skills and applying them. We built tag lines and come-alongs... and we rappelled off the face of nearby cliffs. It was pretty bad-ass. I can honestly say that I learned stuff that has come in handy since. That's something that I can't even say that about college, though one would assume math would be useful at some point...

Repelling
I can honestly say I kicked ass at this

Then, at 10PM, we piled into the buses for a 3-hour drive southward to the mountains. Now, I should take a moment here to discuss my packing list. I wore TAC pants, compression shorts, boots, a t-shirt, and a hat. In my pack I had:

- two pairs of socks
- compass
- headlamp
- change of compressions
- fleece
- wind/rainbreaker
- Gloves
- Knit cap
- my tent
- sleeping bag
- lickies/chewies
- toothbrush
- Advil

There ya have it. I used it all, though the fleece would be a bit of a burden until the last night. My pack wasn't overly full like many others. (Cadre Chris spent an hour systematically destroying the rucks of others. "What's this? You don't need eight pair of underwear!"). I returned a couple things to my car (like a spare pair of shorts and my bulky DSLR camera), but I used what I took.

And, we were off... The Collegiate Peaks range gets in name thanks to the apparent competition of early explorers to claim the peaks for their Alma Maters. It was like us planting our flag on the moon... but with beer instead of Tang. The range has impressive peaks such as Mt. Harvard, Mt. Princeton, Mt. Oxford, and Mt. My-Daddy-Paid-for-College-Thanks-to-Oil-Money.

We arrived at 0100 hrs and started to climb Mt. Yale, a quite lovely hike that we were told would put us at the summit around sunrise. There were 37 of us at the start. One dropped out almost immediately. Chain-smoking at the trailhead prior to stepping off is not recommended.

The peak of Mt. Yale (14,202')
[Note: Awesome pics by Mike Petrucci]

The trail led us up to about 11,000 feet through some beautiful - if dark - countryside. A full moon was right around the corner, so we had a nice view even at that time of the morning and kept most of our headlamps off. Eventually, we broke from the trail and took a short break while we waited on some of the trailing hikers to catch up. We were blazing our way across the East Ridge. At night. This wasn't hiking, this was bouldering, leaping from ledge to ledge and struggling around narrow-to-non-existent paths. After the 8th false summit and thousandth expletive (it's amazing how they echo around a canyon's confines), we could see the end. The route, hazardous and steep, claimed more of our number including two cadre that had apparently failed to recon it. They brought their dogs and couldn't negotiate the trail with them. They had to turn back.

We reached the top of Mt. Yale (14,202 ft) and waited on others strung out for a half mile behind us. Of the 37 that started, 31 reached the summit... impressive when you consider that we hadn't made camp, yet. We still had all of our gear, including tents and sleeping bags, strapped to our rucks.

We started down and got lost. Even with a cadre. I won't go into details, because the 6-hour trek down the mountain turned into a huge goat-screw. This was the 'resentment' part of the trip. The lack of route recon coupled with the inability of our team leads to get us off the hill was extremely irritating. I voiced this opinion frequently and loudly. Others shared my discontent but not to the degree that I did.

I was annoyed.

We eventually reached camp, but I was ready to call a taxi for home. After setting up tents, we were treated to a mix of burgers, MREs, and stew. I understand this was different from the previous year in which food was harder to come by. Well, 2012 was essentially a camping trip with good people and not an orchestrated event with time hacks and cached food. I was okay with that.

Land Nav Instruction

The next day we spent the morning learning land navigation (MGRS) from Rob, and I can confidently say that I will be okay in the middle of nowhere with a map and a compass. Very interesting. The afternoon was spent with Matt learning emergency survival skills. Again, great stuff. I could do an entire blog just on what these two guys taught me. But, I digress.

While we were learning how to build shelters (ours was awesome... I'm just sayin'), Cadre Brian came around asking what we each wanted to do on Sunday. We could leave right after dinner and - staying up all night - attempt a double climb of Mt. Harvard (the highest peak in the local area) and Mt. Columbia. Or, we could set out early the next morning for an attempt on Columbia only. A third option had us maintaining the camp.

People were tired. No one jumped at the double peak.

Except me. I went there to climb mountains, and I wasn't going to miss the daddy of the local scene. Through some lobbying, I was able to increase the number of poor decision-makers. Like I said, all we need in order to be convinced to do something is for a person to ask us. We're idiots.

The top of frozen Mt. Harvard (14,402')

We ate a brief dinner of cardboard and smoke and made our way into the night. No offense to the others that were at Ascent, but this team was awesome. We tore through the night and were hours ahead of our pace. We'd hoped to make it to the roof of Harvard (14,402 ft) by 5AM.

We were there at 0230.

As the highest point for miles, the wind was howling. We were cold. We took a quick picture, then damn near jumped off the side. At 5AM, we took a well-deserved break at 12k ft for 45 minutes. It was cold. I'd have rather we kept moving. We assaulted Mt Columbia.

The scree face of Mt. Columbia
looking back at parts of our team

We went the wrong way, blazing a trail up a 60 degree, scree-covered slope. This surpassed the cascading boulders of Mt. Yale as the 'Bad Idea' champion of the trip. In the winter, I'm told that the route we took is a class-4 climb requiring ice crampons. Yea... so that happened.

After a brutal climb in which we leaped up three feet only to slide back two... over and over... we reached the ridge. Mt. Columbia was within reach, and we were still ahead of schedule. Of course, we went the hard way, so finding either 8-year-olds or geriatrics that had summited (14,079 ft) via the 'easy' way was slightly strange. But, we bagged both mountains.

Adding in the ascent of Pikes Peak that I completed with my buddy before the formal GORUCK Ascent began, it made for four 14ers in five days. Having come from sea level only 16 hours prior to my Pikes summit, I'll call that impressive.

The 'A' Team at the top of Mt Columbia (14,079')
14er #4 for the week

We returned to Cadre Brian's place on Sunday, all of us asleep as the bus driver careened along mountain roads, to find beer and a pig roast waiting for us... as well as the GORUCK Trek team that had just completed Boulder. It was drunken, exhausted, hungry hilarity, and I found it hard to leave my new Ascent comrades.

Redemption.

Would I do it again...? Probably not. It was a good time but a bit pricey when you consider flights, hotels, car, and gear. This is especially true when one considers that I've done the Collegiates. Admittedly, there are other 14ers in the range, but I don't think I'd be jazzed about heading back there. Now, if someone pulls together something similar for another Colorado area or something up in Alaska, I can be down with that.

But, if any GRTs out there are considering Ascent, it's worth your time.

Yale looking East

Descending Columbia

Twit on a Road Trip [Finale]

As the sun rose on Thursday, my TwitOnARoadTrip2012 time was winding down following the events of  GORUCK DC. Though we were drained from the previous day's efforts, we were able to make our way to Dupont Circle to throw back drinks with Brent, Lou, Jason, and assorted GORUCK family at James Hoban's Irish Bar. Fatigue and alcohol quickly took their toll on our ragged group, though, and we slowly broke apart to our homes, hotels, and squares of carpeted floor. July 4th, 2012 was in the books.

Very few people would be able to function after the day we had, but we awoke and made our way to the National Mall and Smithsonian Museum of American History - an impressive home to war artifacts, the fabled Star-Spangled Banner from Fort McHenry, and the Gunboat Philadelphia. Any grand plans we had to further investigate our nation's capitol disappeared at the first mention of finding a bar. This is not an uncommon occurrence when GRTs congregate in large numbers. Hell, it's usually true when we are wandering the streets alone, too.

Elephant & Castle. The sign across the road called to us, so we opted for an afternoon of rejuvenation and cellular repair, drinking up a storm and causing a general uproar. We were loud and slightly obnoxious. I say 'slightly' in reference to our own scale. When compared to societal norms, we were off the chart.

Relaxing together offered the chance to experience the best aspect of GRCs and the GRT family. Sharing stories and drinks, we talked the afternoon away. It's impressive how quickly people that you've just met can become like old friends. Sweating together during a challenge - any of life's challenges - has the strange ability to add depth and respect in any relationship. Friends, both new and old, bonded to bring the conversation to hilarious and felonious levels.

As a starter, I told the story of my epic 1988 National Spelling Bee victory and ensuing controversy.

Going back to the night before, Chris repeated the hilarious and extremely disturbing way Cadre Lou hoped to create a "T-1000 baby."

Your argument is invalid

Eventually, we started discussing when we'd get together again and talked upcoming GRCs to choose from. Kevin erupted in annoyance. "We don't have to do a GORUCK every time we hang out!"
  
Recounting the horrors and heroes from the day before, we enjoyed the A/C while the sun marched across the sky. Drunken discussions were had on the acceptability of hand-holding during a GRC. The topic of disease-infested ponds was touched upon. I blame the previous day's GORUCK and dehydration for the disaster that followed.

A fuzzy fifteen minutes later, we had women exchange an orange peel from mouth to mouth... followed by two guys doing the same thing. We then requisitioned a shopping cart and proceeded to roll all over Pentagon City. One of us did handstands on the bike rack outside a Costco.

Crazy. At 3PM... on a Thursday. We are not well in the head.

Ending up at one of the bars near the mall, we waited as one of our number attempted to get a new phone. [NOTE: Don't trust a pelican case in your ruck to protect an iPhone during GRCs. Just in case you were considering it...] Doing so, we ran into some GRTs from another July 4th class (remember.. there were five) and chatted up the differences in our experiences. At least, I think that's what we did. We were getting smashed.

To bring it all together, we headed out to GORUCK HQ in DC and threw back some beers with cadre. It was nice seeing some of them in their native habitat, and since none of my past cadre were in

GRHQ: Behind the Curtain

attendance I had a unique relationship. No one in the room had yelled at me to do divebomber push-ups or pick up an effing log. We all hit a couple Georgetown bars and closed out the night as friends.

It was a great bookend to my road trip, so after breakfast with my GRT family, I jumped in the car and made the executive decision to push on toward home for the night. It made for a long drive and I didn't get to the house until after 1AM, but it was worth it. I was going to need the entire weekend to relax and get myself in some semblance of order for Monday.

Monday... Work... I did it up hard for over two weeks and came out of it with a ton of new memories and more than a few new friends. I came up with ideas for future vacations and found new people that shared my passion for stupid crap that would be willing to do them with me. That's the best you can ask for, and I can't wait until the next one. It's only been five days, but I'm having GORUCK withdrawal. I'm having GRT withdrawal. And, I can't wait for the next trip.

Eagerness is one thing... but where to? I heard Jason Aldean's "Fly Over States" several times over those many miles, and it really hit home with me how little people in our big cities know of our country and how much we take for granted. When I drove to Florida from San Francisco, I was struck by how far apart people were. Hundreds of miles separated cities and homes. The west-east trip showed me how big our country is, but this trip showed me how close together we are. I visited Civil War sites and realized how near everything was - even 150 years ago. Louisville, considered by most to be in a culturally 'southern' state, was a Union bastion. The two capitol cities, Richmond and DC, were 90 miles apart. I left Washington, DC at nearly 1:00 PM and was in my Florida bed that night. We are so much closer than we think. We think in terms of 'here' and 'there,' but we share the same land and air. I could have spent days in some of the cities I blitzkrieged through on my drive - Louisville, Nashville, Chattanooga, Lafayette, Cleveland. This country is full of amazing places and fascinating people. My trip gave my dozens of ideas for future travels. If I do half of them, I'll see more of this country than 95% of Americans, and that's too bad. Go check out your country - not in pictures or television... GO - and let me know what you think.

FIN

Twit On A Road Trip: By The Numbers

Miles Covered: 5309
Days on the Road: 15
States Visited: 16 (plus Washington, DC)
New states checked off the list: 3 (Indiana, Iowa, Minnesota)
Countries Visisted: 2 (Canada is a country... for now...)
Half Marathons Completed: 2
Bricks purchased: 16
GORUCKs completed: 1
Patches earned/received: 4
ToaRT2012-Related Facebook Updates: 181 (I'm not joking. I counted. Irony... or destiny?)
ToaRT2012-Related Tweets: 94
Blog Updates (including this one): 11
"Halls of Fame" visited: 3
 Oil changes: 1
Highest Mileage Day: Day 15 - 852 miles from DC to Florida
Most Expensive Gas: $3.67/gal (New York)
Least Expensive Gas: $3.04/gal (Georgia)
Gallons Purchased: 134
Average mpg: 39.6
Baseball Games attended: 7 (4 MiLB/ 3 MLB)
Active MLB Parks left to see: 7 (down from 10 pre-trip)
Most nights spent in one city: 3 (tie; Buffalo and DC)
College Campuses Visited: 9
People Convinced I was David Boreanaz: 4 1/2*
Beers drank: Countless. And priceless. And now I'm even more senseless.

*One woman asked if I was the actor  on 'that show.'

Knowing my Boreanaz history, I asked, "Bones?"

She said, "No... that's not it."

? - For those of you still following along, the prize is up for grabs.
Both the question and answer are out there somewhere.

 I'd like to give to thanks to my 2007 Honda Civic for making all of this possible. She was a champ.

5309 Miles of the eastern United States

July 4th, 2012: GORUCK - Washington, DC

This is long. Sorry. But, take 10 minutes and read it... 

and then let me know which GORUCK you want to do...

and I'll be there.

Those of you that have been following my road trip reports (many thanks for that... if you haven't, you can start here) know that by the time I reached Washington on Tuesday afternoon, I was 12 days and over 4000 miles into the endeavor. Other than some time spent with a GORUCK brother in Minneapolis, it was largely a solo endeavor. So, I was looking forward to meeting up with some of my buddies from my first GORUCK (073 in Savannah) and meeting new friends. Some of you may be asking what a GORUCK Challenge is... well. I have done three now and I haven't the slightest clue. Read this and it might help. Or, not.

The reunion was happy but brief, since our first obligation was to reach the RuckOff and alcohol rumored to be awaiting us. This is one of the ironies of GORUCK: We pass on overindulging in beers at the RuckOff in an attempt to stay hydrated. Meanwhile, we will grab a drink from anybody passing by during the challenge itself. And, since this unique Independence Day GORUCK offering was stepping off at 5:00AM on July 4th, dehydration and heat stroke during the event were distinct possibilities.

Still, we met up with our fellow ruckers (there were five separate classes poised to step off the next morning, so there were an abnormally high number of participants) on top of Balance Gym just off the National Mall. Many thanks to those fine folks for allowing us to use their roof. As opposed to my Savannah and Austin challenges, I wasn't surprised to find that the 7/4 DC challenge brought people in from all over the eastern seaboard. We ate, we drank (sparingly alcohol... liberally water), and we chatted.

And, I'll be damned if one of the guys standing next to me didn't say, "Aren't you the guy that wrote that book?" Now, I may pretend to be a respectable bad-ass and all-around Renaissance Man, but I am continually amazed to find out that anyone knows a damn thing about me. He complimented me on it and asked about the sequel, and my spirits were buoyed by the conversation. The book's genre (have you read it? No, well check it out!) is fairly niche in that it's The Red Badge of Courage for the Bourne generation. But, that fits perfectly with the GORUCK personality and interests. GORUCK alumni (GRTs) are certainly in the target demographic's wheelhouse... mostly because I wrote it for me, and we share passions for the same crazy undertakings. Like a GORUCK.

I met over 40 people at the RuckOff, most very cool, but the core group of us that were traveling and rooming together broke off to go get some dinner. Cary, Chris, Denise, Kevin, Kayla, and myself (yes, that's six in a room), grabbed a couple others (we absorbed Amanda, Sarajane, and Andrea into our drunken collective for much of the trip) and headed out in the general direction of the Metro looking for food along the way and opted for Stan's Restaurant, a decidedly... 'dark' establishment near Dupont Circle. The place was packed... wall to wall customers... and we were the only white people in there. I distinctly heard the staff refer to 'los blancos' as we made our way through the place. Damn good food and service.

Following that, we made our way back to the hotel where I claimed my warm section of thinly-carpeted floor and fell asleep to the dulcet tones of a late night showing of one of the Final Destination movies accompanied by Kevin's snoring. It was a forced sleep, as we were rising at 2:30 AM to meet the shuttle for the short ride to the Lincoln Memorial, but the night passed quietly. I was just happy to have a 5AM start time for this ruck when compared to the usual 1AM start. I awoke refreshed, and we disappeared into the dark morning...

THE CHALLENGE

Recognizing the exhaustion and heat I was in for, I took advantage of the minutes leading up to the challenge by dozing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Laying there as the sun crested over the distant Capitol building was a memorable sight, and I'm sure the few normal people around the Memorial at the time were wondering why all these people with rucks full of bricks were lounging around Mr. Lincoln's steps.

The day begins at the feet of a legend

Our numbers quickly grew as five classes worth of participants scribbled out their signatures on death waivers. We were quickly isolated into predetermined teams and introduced to our cadre, Brent, a recon Marine that is more California than Capitol. Understanding the nature of the heat we would be experiencing during the day (it topped 100 degrees by 11AM), he had a much more relaxed attitude than my previous two GRCs. This was more out of a desire to not see us die than to give us any sort of break.

We started with PT as the sun crested over the distant trees, completely failing in our attempts at inchworm pushups. I've seen teams begin poorly before, but we were depressingly pathetic. Lunges and buddy squats followed. Carrying a ruck full of bricks... and your partner and his bricks... and squatting. Again, we failed horribly as a team to do this as many of us stood - brothers on our shoulders - as we waited for our team to get together.

Inchworm Fail

I blamed the heat.

Our cadre blamed upbringing and maternal lineage.

Pondering log strategy (yea... I said 'log

We left the lawn and moved to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Beams of sunlight began slicing across the dark rock, and I teared up. I have been to the Memorial a few times previously, but I do have an actual family connection to the War and being there on July 4th surrounded by so many of our current servicemen and my GRT family... it was pretty damn emotional. And, I was far from the only one.

From there, we rucked east toward the capitol, stopping briefly to grab our first downed tree of the day. The recent storms left many coupons littering the roads, and we were 'blessed' with three separate logs and a handful of branches. We were very blessed... very... very blessed. After a photo op, we turned up Pennsylvania for lunges and buddy carries... while gaining strange looks by all those we passed with our log.

Many poor decisions are made in this building

The beauty that is Aids Pond

Our cadre then came to the conclusion that we were both hot and uncomfortably disease-free. So, we low-crawled through the pond (and I use that term loosely) at Pershing Park. The neon green water made for a slick surface to slide across and allowed for rapid absorption into our degrading immune system. Push-ups in this newly-dubbed "Aids Pond" followed, and we were given the option of either dragging our battle buddy back through the water or carrying them. The surprising number of pairs that decided to go the 'drag' route is proof positive that the green fungi's assault on the decision-making sections of our brains had reached critical levels.

The draggers were either lazy or sociopathic

The lime Powerade that each of us sported on our person (the guys with beards were particularly gruesome), stayed with us for another mile until we reached Georgetown Waterfront Park. It was here that we began to worry that the fungi included hallucinogenic compounds. Before us was an arching water fountain cascading cool, refreshing (and CLEAN) water 6 feet in the air. Brent decided it was a good place for some flutter kicks and push-ups. I would have cut off my arm to get in there, so PT was a minimal sacrifice. It washed away most of the grime, and we were feeling confident.

It's like being watered down with liquid Heaven

Unfortunately, this confidence caused elements of our team discipline to waver, and the fallout was bear crawls up a hill. At this point, another aspect of the GORUCK came into play. We are often running right behind each other with little knowledge of what's in front of the group. It leads to many shouted warnings such as "Curb!," "Stump to the right!," and "Watch out for the hobo!" The numerical superiority and overall nasty appearance that a GORUCK team usually carries with is also means that we are more immune to rucking through dangerous areas and disgusting conditions than we would be on a regular day. But, it was still strange to be crawling up a steep hill and hear the shouted "Dead Rat!" warning echo over Georgetown. Even more strange? We didn't go around it. No one did. We just went over it. The warning was simply to make sure people didn't grab it for leverage. Yea... we are those kind of people.

"Crab walk, you lazy bastards!"

By this time, the sun was nearly overhead, but we found refuge in the shadows of a secluded staircase... that I came to find out was used for one of the deaths in The Exorcist. The steep and tight nature of the staircase made it perfect to throw someone down in the movie. Well.... shit.

These steps (there are 9,413 of them... I counted. Pretty sure that's accurate) supported our class's box jumps from bottom to top. Once at the pinnacle, we were rewarded with a waterfall of sunlight that nearly melted my face off. Here, we waited while a downed airman (i.e. log #3) was located. Four people were parceled off to get the 'airman' while the rest of us were told to descend the steps. Upon arriving at the bottom, Brent screamed that the airman needed more support. Back up the steps. We met the log team and proceeded to carry this log back down the Exorcist steps.

I was jealous of the actor lucky enough to fall DOWN the steps

Being at the leading edge of the log, the image of it slipping from the hands of those in the back flashed through my mind. I wouldn't have even had time to cuss them out before my face was goo. Good times.

It was near this point that we took a break and one of the class shadows (usually a photographer and/or GRT not actively participating) performed the admirable duty of restocking our beer supplies (Thanks, Dan!). At this point, dehydration was about #4 on the list of "Things likely to Kill Us Today." The list was a bit fuzzy by the afternoon, but I'm pretty sure "Skittish DC Cop with a Gun" and "Water-Born Parasite" were on there somewhere.

We turned across Key Bridge, a heavily trafficked area at this time of day, with our 'airman' and discovered that the bridge apparently led from Georgetown into Hell. I'm pretty sure flames were dancing across the far end. It was hot, is what I'm saying. And, we were carrying a log. Next to traffic. The image of the log slipping over the barricade and flying through someone's windshield flashed through my mind on several instances. Instead of coming up with a way to keep it from happening, I spent the trip figuring out a good excuse.

"Who? Me? What log? Surely you must be mistaken. I am simply on my way to market for fresh fruit."

"Yea, right! That forest over there threw it? It just barely missed all of us... looks like you weren't as lucky."

"Si! El arbol!" ***point at the rest of my team*** "Los Blancos!"

However, we made it across Key Bridge and made our way down to the Potomac River. This tributary, a bubbling waterway full of history and national significance, was about to be violated in a way few could fathom. As Brent dove into the cool waters, we stepped off in full view of stunned kayakers and paddleboarders (our trusty S-4 Logistics shadow that had provided alcoholic sustenance swam out and shanghai'd one of the boards from an unsuspecting young woman... it wasn't pretty). After some more water PT, we low-crawled through the mud and muck to evade the "entrenched snipers with lasers." Apparently, this force we were tasked with avoiding was significantly advanced. In true Schwarzenegger fashion, we arose from the muck completely unidentifiable, covered in black mud and foliage. If the locals were confused by us before, they were afraid now.

Covert Ops
You can't seeeeeeeeee us

But, onward we went to Roosevelt Island. Never having been there, I didn't even know Teddy had a huge statue on the mid-river dirt. It is a strange honorific, but Teddy is a certified bad-ass. He deserves his own island. We performed a recon mission of the surroundings. We ran. We ran some more. Fortunately, Teddy is located in a (mostly) shady spot, and we were spared the blazing sun.

Back off the island, we were momentarily spared the Key Bridge exposure (think that scene from the Chronicles of Riddick where the sun is literally rolling toward you like a wall of fire) and instead turned south toward the US Marine Corps War Memorial and Iwo Jima statue. There was no way a Force Recon cadre was going to let us sneak by this. Of course, it was July 4th and security was monumental. Having 25+, mud-covered pseudo-paratroopers walk up with rucks on their backs gave them pause, but a quick explanation and what appeared to be sympathy for our sad state got us through... after a bag check.

"Sir, what are these things wrapped up like kilos of cocaine?"
"Um... bricks?"
"Roger that.. carry on."

It was at the USMC War Memorial that we were able to rest our bodies but not our souls. Staring up at the Memorial (another that I had not yet seen even though I had visited DC many times) and hearing Brent tell us some stories of comrades and friends he had on deployment can take just as much out of you as inchworm push-ups. With a sober air, we pressed our way back across Key Bridge, somehow oblivious to the heat as we were reminded that it really was July 4th and that there were worse things than wandering through the nation's capitol on a beautiful, hot day.

Respect

We made quite the impression on the families now enjoying Waterfront Park, and our co-opting of the same fountain from hours earlier without any semblance of restraint showed how happy we were to get the mud off. Let me be clear... we destroyed this fountain. Men and women alike stripped down to get the mud off and out. I believe everyone kept their naughty bits covered, but who knows. We wanted cool, clean water, and clothing was a deterrent to that at this point.

It was here that Brent snuck away to GR Headquarters ("I'll see you guys there... move it!") and left us to find our way to Montrose Park and the challenge's end. Though mostly an uphill trek, we were numb at this point as the sun had already crested hours earlier and begun its way to the west. It is tradition to buddy carry across the finish line - one last show of teamwork and togetherness. So, we steeled ourselves for it as we rounded the hedges after the mile ruck from the waterfront.

Oh ho no. We came around the corner and Brent waved us toward him... and we ran. Down.. down... D- O- W- N into the bowels of Montrose Park. I think we passed a town in China. Murlocs (high-brow literary reference!) blinked as we passed. It was far, is what I'm sayin'. And, the whole way... we rued the return trip, because we knew we'd have to come back up. After having thought that the end was nigh... our spirits deflated.

We reached the bottom and splashed into Rock Creek. Flutter kicks followed. Seal crawls after that. Then, the worst thing of all happened.

A friendly chocolate lab hopped from the bushes.

To the end

I can't tell you how much this upset us all. Few things frighten ruckers (by nature, we are a 'screw you' group that is content to punch ourselves in the gut, literally and figuratively, in order to challenge ourselves), but seeing a chocolate lab bound toward us gives us chills.

Because, this is Java... and it means Jason isn't far behind.

Jason McCarthy is one of the coolest dudes you'll meet.. friendly and loves chatting with GRTs. But, he's also the founder of GORUCK and has ground more classes into the dirt as cadre than can be counted.

Buddy carries to the top. Up loose gravel.

Time Hack.

Go... now.


And, so we went... over rocks and stones and twigs and steps. I worried over the steps, but fortunately only half of us had to negotiate them. The other half simply laid over our shoulders. Screams of encouragement echoed in the park. Sweat, washed off only moments ago in the creek, returned in buckets. Up we went, past the Chinese and cave people, to the crest of the hill. And, as a team, we made it.

GORUCK Class 200

GORUCK Class 200... complete.

Brent talked about how the past 12+ hours (it was nearly 6PM when we finished) were as tough as anything Special Forces had to do over similar times. He looked us each in the eye (always a nice touch and something I'm sure Jason reinforces with cadre) and handed us our patches. I gave him a NASA coin that had survived the ruck with me. People drifted away, but the six of us stayed and chatted with Jason and the remaining cadre. It was still 99 degrees out, but we didn't care. We enjoyed the post-ruck relaxation. We had beaten the ruck once more.

When I first researched GORUCK, I thought GRTs were insane. Why do this? To challenge yourself? Prove yourself to others? My first GRC in Savannah was frightening in its unknowns. I told myself I wouldn't do another. But, the GRT family won't let you do just one. I now have thousands of friends all over the country (I didn't know Justin in Minneapolis through any mechanism other than the alumni website) that have gone through similar experiences, and we share the same perspectives on a multitude of issues. And, we are all bat-shit insane. But, we come together for great things. We carry logs, yes, but we organize mini-rucks to raise money to fight leukemia and cancer. We play in the mud and grime, but we find organizations that need support. Brent is one of the driving forces behind the Silent Warrior Scholarship Fund (www.silentwarriorscholarshipfund.com) that supports college-bound family members of Recon Marines. In the days following the challenge, the GRT community pulled together over $1,200 in donations.

Being part of the GRT family is amazing, and THEY are why I keep coming back to do challenges. The first was to challenge myself. Now, I know my team will succeed... and I show up to help them make it happen.

GO!...... RUCK!

What the GORUCK Challenge is really all about

In Memorial Day

Memorial Day has always been a big deal for me. My father was career Army, retiring as a Lt Col and working for defense contractors once he got out of the service. I spent my time at Carlisle Barracks in PA until I was ten before moving to outside the gates at Eglin Air Force Base, Florida, and Wurzburg, Germany. To say that I was an Army brat is an understatement. The military just... was.

I avoided JROTC in high school but applied for and received an Army ROTC scholarship for college. I aced the entrance exams and physicals... even had a Letter of Recommendation from one of the highest ranking army officials in Europe. I had a full-ride to anywhere I wanted to go. I was Va Tech bound...

But, it was 1996 and the armed forces were scaling back after our victories in Iraq. They were looking for reasons to exempt applicants, so my childhood asthma got my scholarship rescinded. To be honest, I didn't particularly care. Very few things affect me, and I simply let this roll off my back like everything else. I still had a full academic scholarship to Florida, and I made good use of it. Still, I wonder where my life would have taken me if I had gone off to Blacksburg and the Army. The likelihood that I would have been sent to Afghanistan is almost certain.

Thanks to my employment with the government, I've kept some ties to the military complex, but it's been nothing like what I had growing up. So, for the past decade, the military has been a darkening light in my day. I just hadn't been surrounded by it as in the past.

Then, I got swept up with Marines in Quantico. I signed up for a GORUCK and started hanging with active-duty soldiers of every branch. I had day-to-day interactions with Green Berets. Suddenly, the military is a bigger part of my life, and Memorial Day means that much more to me again. I've always had problems with the way people perceive the holiday. For a surprisingly large portion of the country, it's simply a day off to BBQ and enjoy the beach. They don't know why they have the day off from work, they just embrace it. Our country has the best of us (trust me, I've met a lot of these guys, and the mumbling cattle that walk the malls of America embarrass me as an American) serving around the world as ambassador soldiers. They represent us in other countries and fight the battles to keep us safe.

Remember them this Memorial Day. But, remember them every other day, too. We owe it to them. If not for them, it'd be like cattle to the slaughter. The average American doesn't have the spirit our forefathers once did. But, these men and women aren't average. Get off your ass and tell them thanks. Then, go back to your burger... or maybe hit the gym and try to be what we once were.

_

The Winter Park Road Race 10K... with bricks.

As many of my friends will note, my decision-making has been getting worse and worse in recent years. I'm impulsive and random, and I believe it is one of the few reasons that people still keep in touch with me: They honestly want to know if my masochism and irreverence has led to my death.

I have no intentions of getting so 'over my head' that I kill myself (though, good intentions are known to pave the road to internal hemorrhaging), but I freely admit that my near-term plans include several activities that are destined for soreness and/or injury. It's not yet May 1st, and the rest of my calendar is already packed:

• May 12th: Operation Giveback UCF 10K (*)
• May 19th: GORUCK Orlando (*)
• June 23rd: Tampa Prison Break Run (*)
• Aug 30 - Sept 2: GORUCK Ascent
• Sept 8th: GORUCK 9/11 New York City (*)
• Sept 29th: Megatransect
• Oct 20th: GORUCK DC Scavenger (*)
• Nov 4th: Tampa Wildhourse 10K Trail Run (*)
• Nov 18th: Miami Beach Rock 'n Roll Half Marathon
• Dec 1st: Tough Mudder Florida (*)

Whew. Man, I've never seen it written down outside dates on the calendar. Just the list exhausted me. I might actually be a little crazy... maybe the voices in my head are right! This makes my investigations into a Ragnar relay and a 50 Miler ultra race that much more idiotic, but I've never been known much for my self-control. Hell, it only took about a week for me to look at the Barkleys and go from, "That's insane. Who'd sign up for that?" to "Oh yea... I need that race director's email address. I'm so gonna do that."

But, back to those already-registered-for races above... Those asterisks after a good portion of them? That's to denote which I will be doing with a rucksack full of bricks. Yea... you got that right. The character in my novel, Shawn Kidd, seems to be defining me just as much as I defined him. I want to test myself and commit to an honest challenge. Why run another race when you've already done that? For a PR? That's all well and good, but who cares about PRs? Do other people care about YOUR PRs? I doubt it. The only person that cares is you. Why? Because, you challenge yourself to improve. Well, what better way to improve than to increase the challenge?

I'm already two races in with bricks, and I love it. I haven't focused on training as much with brick-laden runs as I did for my GR challenges, but those training runs are on the horizon. Still, I'm doing 30-35 miles unloaded per week without much trouble, and a short 7 1/2 mile maintenance run from yesterday turned into a 13.1 mile, half marathon PR simply because I felt so good that I didn't want to stop running.

The first RuckRun (Hmmm. Need to work on that... any suggestions? BrickedRun? RuckRace?) I did was the Winter Park Road Race 10K on March 24. It was a warm morning (for March in Florida), but I didn't notice. I certainly was sent some interesting looks as I toed the starting line with my GR1 packed with 6 bricks. (BONUS: I didn't have to check my keys, phone, and post-race gear at the start... just threw 'em in the bag. Sweet!) Other runners asked what I was doing. I said I was prepared for a little burglary along the route (WP is an upscale neighborhood). Several tried to lift my rucksack on my back. Most wished they hadn't. 30-35 pounds on an unexpectant wrist can be quite jarring. As the sun crested, we were off.

As it was my first BrickedRun, I freely admit to sandbagging. The cobblestone streets (see? nice neighborhood) were a constant threat, especially with my additional weight. I saw two women face plant after tripping, and they didn't have my bricks to contribute to their pain when they went down. Plus, I honestly wasn't sure what pace I should be running. How fast is too fast? How much sooner do you bonk when you have what amounts to a small German Shepherd on your back? Beats the Hell outta me...

As it turned out, I needn't have worried. My slower start pace meant that I was passed by a significant portion of the runners through the first 3 miles. But, as always happens with experienced racers, I quickly made up the distance. Most racers are too inexperienced to keep from shooting out of the blocks or simply refuse to pace themselves even when they know the last 1/4 of a race will be Hell for them. I was just getting into my stride at mile 5.

Sweat poured off my TAC hat, and I could feel a chill on my back where wetness formed under the pack due to simply being covered up. Something worth noting in cooler climates, hypothermia... it could be a real issue when you force yourself to sweat when it's really not that warm out. Of course, Florida humidity will do that anyway.

At mile 6, I saw the finish and kicked it up several gears, confidant in the knowledge that I was going to finish strong and not bonk. My only regret as I passed under the line with a 68 minute time was that I hadn't pushed myself harder. But, I also knew that many more RuckRaces were on the horizon, and avoiding injury and maintaining a proper training and development program would make up for any first race frustrations.

Of course, then I grabbed a friend, and we did the Orlando Corporate 5K rucked. The pace we set was good, but his training wasn't quite to my level. I pushed him significantly faster than he was comfortable with, I think, ("I'm getting dizzy... No, I don't wanna go to school today, Mommy.") but we still finished in less than 31 minutes. Given another shot, I have no doubt we could get in under 30, but that's one thing I know will be right around the corner... another shot. The list up top says all there is to say about it.

You know what... I'm going to do that Miami half marathon rucked, too. Screw it.

_

The GORUCK Family: What is a GORUCK Challenge?

What is a GORUCK Challenge?

It's a "team event and never a race," if you go by the site's vague descriptors. "Inspired by Special Forces training and led by Green Berets, the Challenge builds teams and solves problems."

That's it. That's all it tells you. And, as participants and those seeking more info will tell you, any further details are NOT forthcoming.

So, let's start over. What is a GORUCK Challenge? Well, I've done two of them, and I don't have a gawdamn clue. I've tried to explain it to people, but I can't do better than those two sentences above. They just breed more questions, though.

"Did you win?"
Um... only in life. You compete against your internal fears and mental demons, not each other. You come out stronger, as a team and an individual.

"I run... I could probably do it."
"I lift weights... I could probably do it."
Probably. But, tell that to the 6-time Ironman that dropped out shortly after the Okinawa Challenge started. Or, tell it to the guy who just jumped on a passing scooter and told the driver he'd give him $20 to take him home. If you aren't mentally strong, it won't matter how physically capable you may be.

"Why the Hell would you want to do THAT?"
I honestly have no answer to this question. But, I can tell you, I can't wait to do the next one.

Ask a GORUCKer what it takes to complete a challenge, and they'll tell you (1) good physical shape and (2) EXCELLENT mental shape. "It's all mental." That's the mantra you hear over and over from 'ruckers. And, it applies to us as well as the challenge. We're all mental.

GORUCK itself is a company specializing in high-quality rucks and military-grade gear for the hiker/mountain man(or woman)/soldier in your life. They make great bags (my second is on it's way) and are very customer-oriented. Also, they are extremely proud to say that all their gear is made in the U.S.A. Every test model goes through several GORUCK challenges to ensure there aren't any weak points that might have been missed. These challenges are abusive. If it survives multiple challenges, it's well-made. Best part? You meet great people. Better part? Part of the proceeds go directly to the Green Beret Foundation. Score!

Like Jason, the company's founder, the cadre 'employees' that lead the teams during challenges are all active-duty or retired Special Forces. Interest in GORUCK is increasing steadily, and they are adding cadre (currently up to 6 or 7) to accommodate the growth. The brutal entry into the GORUCK family is the basic GR Challenge, but there is nothing basic about it. Billed as 8 to 10 hours and 15 to 20 miles of "Good Livin,'" I can tell you that those numbers are woefully inaccurate. Distances quickly disappear into a dark void thanks to the start times (usually 10PM or 1AM), and I have yet to hear of a challenge taking under 12 hours. A Providence, Rhode Island, challenge went 18 hours last fall.

You may ask, 'Why?' Bah... I answer, 'Why Not?' The GORUCK team lives by the tag, "Under Promise, Over Deliver," and they do it in remarkable fashion.

GR Challenge alumni are quickly added to the GORUCK family, and this is where the real magic of GORUCK happens. The bonds you build in those short 12-15 hours (ok, it's not short at the time) can quickly form into long friendships. I still talk with many of my classmates and have built new friendships with others in GORUCK Tough (the alumni group) simply because I know what they went through when they did their challenges. And, of course, it takes a special kind of crazy to do one of these anyway. We tend to congregate together... only crazy can really understand another crazy.

My first cadre told me he felt at times like he was 'training Americans' (let's be clear here, the cadre and a high percentage of participants are military, but the lessons in teamwork, leadership, and problem-solving that 'ruckers gain can be used with their spouses, in their careers, and in any other aspect of their lives). Americans have become a lazy, accepting, and apathetic group that appears to have lost much of the self-sufficiency and forward-thinking for which we were once known. Energizing people to find out what they're truly capable of is one way to get us back to the forefront. (I'm digressing here... save that for another post).

So... this GORUCK family talks. We share. We support and encourage. There have been some brutally honest discussions among GRT, soul-bearing and soul-searching. Some are quite funny. Others, such as what flooded the discussions yesterday, can be extremely thought-provoking and inspiring. And, we talk about when we are going to get together again to do more stupid crap. But, what do we do after a GORUCK Challenge? Well, the easy answer is... Another challenge! GORUCK wants you to branch out and try new things, though.

But, these new things, things other than the Challenges? What could we do? Glad you asked... How about spending four days in the mountains of Colorado over Labor Day with Green Berets, elements of the 10th Mountain Division, and GR alumni climbing 14,000 ft peaks and learning survival skills (GORUCK Ascent)? Or, how about learning fieldcraft from Berets - along with survival skills, land and water navigation, emergency medical triage, and mission prep - in the waters off Key West for five days (GORUCK Beached)? Or, how about team missions designed by spies and operators to learn how America's Best covertly thrive in communities all around the globe (GORUCK Trek)? Or, do you just want to carry a bunch of bricks (Oh... we haven't even gotten to the 'bricks' discussion, yet), around our country's great cities and compete against other GR Alumni teams to track down the greatest monuments to our nation (GORUCK Scavenger)?

Oh, yes, there's plenty to keep you busy. But, what is a GORUCK Challenge? Well, you're gonna need a rucksack full of bricks, energy bars, water, and a change of clothes. The clothes are necessary, because you're gonna get wet... a river, creek, lake... you're getting in it. And, bring gloves, because you're going to be carrying a log great distances... as a team. Yes, you read that right. Oh, and you'll be doing PT the entire time. Bear crawls, crab walks, push-ups, smurfjacks, divebomber push-ups, human caterpillar, human shopping cart, buddy carries, flutter kicks. fireman carries. And, then there are the coupons you're forced to carry for the entire challenge: ammo cans full of sand, 5 gallon fuel tanks full of water, additional rucks, gear cases, blocks of cement, concrete, slosh pipes full of water, your group guidon (flag), and whatever the cadre sees on the side of the road that looks remotely portable. (This has included tables, recliners, additional bricks, additional rucks, and... bystanders.)

This is not for the weak of mind or body. The Challenge is based on the Special Forces Training and Assessment program Green Berets are required to go through. This isn't easy. It's grueling, and you'll drink several liters of water and force down thousands of calories of energy bars and the like... And, you'll still lose weight and certainly risk dehydration and dizziness if you're not careful.

My first challenge wound through the streets and forests around Savannah with Dan, an active-duty Green Beret and a baaaaaad man. The guy is a beast and eminently quotable. I can't count the number of times the wisecracks he opened up on us broke the monotony and pain of my first experience with GORUCK. GORUCK requires you to have strong muscles and mind, but you have to have a thick hide, too. Whether you're talking to cadre or fellow 'ruckers, the language is graphic, crude, and awesome. Ladies, feel free to join in. There are many female 'ruckers, and they jump into the gutter talk as much as the rest of us. Being part of the family is oddly freeing.

So, GRC Savannah? We went 13 hours and 25 miles (carrying a telephone pole for 6 of them). We waded through the Savannah River and a rather questionable-looking retention pond. We witnessed the aftermath of three homicides. We caused terrorist threats in the city to hit 'red' levels, resulting in the FBI being called. In short, WE HAD A BLAST. I could barely walk afterward. I've run 2 marathons, and my first GORUCK Challenge was the most difficult physical and mental task I've ever completed.

After that? Well, that was the recent GRC Austin during the South by Southwest Festival with Cadre David. We 'only' did 18 miles this time, but it was through rougher terrain in Barton Creek Wilderness Park. It was made difficult by the revoking of our shoe and sock privileges (it is what it sounds like) and rapidly deteriorating water stores that caused an outbreak of cramps on much of the team. The fact that David got a perverse thrill out of watching us (we, who paid for this crap) suffer was offset by the fact that he was such a nice guy.

What's up next? Well, I'll be at the aforementioned Ascent this September. And, I've got a Washington, DC Scavenger set for October. Then, there's my crazy new 'family' members that are close to convincing me to join them for the 9/11 GRC New York City (How can you NOT do that, I ask?).

Still, what is a GORUCK Challenge? This is a long-ass blog post to not have answered the original question. Well, that's because I can't tell you. Which cadre are you going to have? They all do things differently. What city are you going to be in? GRC San Francisco is significantly different than GRC Bozeman. Lastly, what kind of person are you? You're going to get out of it what you put in. If you have problems making it through, your teammates will pick you up. That's what the challenges are about - coming together as a team. So, if you are powering through and the guy next to you stumbles... will you grab his pack to carry it and give him your precious water? If not, maybe GR isn't for you. If so, maybe I'll run across you at a challenge, rucksack filled to the brim with bricks and a smile on my face. Then, as with all GORUCK get-togethers... many beers will be downed.

It's not about the strong or weak link, it's about how to make the chain unbreakable.

Embrace the Suck.

_

Sales Proceeds to the Green Beret Foundation

As many of you know, I've become pretty involved with GORUCK, a company with deep ties to our military community (in specific, our Green Berets). Through my time slogging through mud and muck with some of the best people I've met, I gained even more respect for returning soldiers and their families than I already had, significant given that I am from a military family myself.

My novel, Number 181 cough(GetItHere)cough, is influenced by the military community and history, so I made the decision to donate proceeds of the sales to the Green Beret Foundation.

The pot is up to about $400 to send in that direction, and it's nice to know that the kind words and reviews people are sending about the book itself are complemented by the goodwill of the donation.

Keep reading and keep enjoying, whether it's my book or another!

_

Upcoming Movie: Act of Valor

In doing research for my book, Number 181 (grab a copy here!), and during preparations for the GORUCK Challenge, I've spent a good deal of time around the men and women of our armed forces. In that time, I heard about the film Act of Valor in development. The latest trailer is available at the film's website, and it's a really great piece of cinema. Starring active duty Navy SEALs, the film is inspired by actual events and SEAL missions.

For those that considered The Hurt Locker to be a somewhat inaccurate representation of real-time, battlefield events, this film should be a welcome diversion and an excellent explanation for why I am donating proceeds from Number 181 to the Green Beret Foundation.

Green Berets, GORUCK, and proceeds from the sales of my book

If you aren't already aware, I will be donating the proceeds from initial sales of Number 181 to the Green Beret Foundation (see the link on this page to buy the book). My ties to the military go way back, but I've become more involved with the GBF in recent months thanks to my experiences with the GORUCK Challenge. The GORUCK is a difficult thing to describe to others. It's part survival training and part obstacle course, part endurance race and part mental punishment.

Led by an active-duty Green Beret, the GORUCK is designed to build leadership skills and foster teamwork. I participated in the Savannah, GA challenge in October 2011.

26 members
20 miles
13 hours

We waded through the Savannah River. We waded through disgusting lakes. We carried each other, literally and figuratively, for 20 miles through the Savannah night, and it was one of the most challenging, most rewarding things I have ever done. I've run marathons and slogged through years at the gym, but the GORUCK is all about taking yourself to the limits and pushing through them with the help of friends, whether you knew them before that night or not.

Each class is different. Each cadre (the active duty Green Beret leading) is different. About 20 of my group were active-duty or retired military. All were good people.

Check it out. Sign up. And, grab a rucksack full of bricks. Oh, did I forget to mention you have to carry along all your equipment...?

We had to carry a telephone pole.

For 6 miles.

Seriously, it's fun! I swear!

www.goruckchallenge.com

We started at 1am in one of the nondescript squares in downtown Savannah. I met the 25 other poor decision-makers for the first time the night before at the RuckOff, an informal event designed to tempt the participants with alcohol mere hours before the event (fight the urge!). There was a group of about a dozen that had come together from a gym in Lakeland. Note: There is a definite benefit to knowing your classmates beforehand, but it's not necessary. It was here that we gained our coupons, the items we would have to carry in addition to our brick-filled rucks. Five 5-gallon fuel tanks of water. A 25-foot coil of rope. A case full of straps, 'biners, and sapper manuals. Six cases of beer. Two telephone poles.... hang on, we'll get there.

We started off toward the bar district for some "Good Livin'" down the riverfront in full view of drunk revelers (part one of the GORUCK requirement: Bar District). We spent hours here burning through lunges, squats, and push-ups. Three hours in, we had gone about a mile. After being routinely harried by Georgians (I think, they slurred so badly we couldn't tell), we headed into the Savannah countryside, jogging miles into the dark without the calming knowledge offered by a watch or GPS. Dan, our cadre, did his best to entertain us with periodic stops for brutal training: bear crawls, crab walks, crossfit squats.

Unexpected entertainment came in the form of two cordoned off intersections where local law enforcement had established crime scenes (two scenes for three homicides total... Who had three murders in the office pool?).

After a short stop to select the two telephone poles we would be forced to lug around a lake (part two of the GORUCK requirement: Carry a log), we carted the logs and our coupons on our shoulders around an unnamed lake for a mile. Once the loop was completed, we proceeded to do pyramids with the poles (10 presses/curls/push-ups/flutter kicks, 9 presses/curls/push-ups/flutter kicks, 8...).

After setting up a observation post and as the sun began to rise, we proceeded to numb our now-aching bodies with beers (finally, we could lighten the loads we carried). Twenty blessed minutes of bonding and drinking later, we picked up our coupons (log included) and plunged into the lake (part three of the GORUCK requirement: You're gonna get wet. Wading into the Savannah River at the riverfront doesn't count). Up to our necks in pond scum, we waded a hundred yards to the other side, squats and overhead presses along the way.

Once clear of the lake, our plan had us on a return trip to Savannah. Six miles. With the telephone pole. By now, the early morning joggers and dog-walkers were awake and offering looks that were part sympathy and part I'm-Calling-The-Police. After a six-mile trudge through suburban Georgia, with a freaking telephone pole, we were tasked with one last action: carrying each other a mile to an 'evac site.'

A 3-mile jog later, we neared our finish point. But first, Dan sat us down in a very crowded and 'curious onlooker'-filled park and explained to us the role the Green Berets play in the defense of our nation and the importance of teamwork and brotherhood (Note: We did have two kick-ass females in our group). Buddy carries back to the square we started at 13 hours prior, and we were done...

... minus a terrorist threat that was caused by the discarding of our bricks in a crowded downtown area and calls to local police and the FBI after we had left. But, that's a story for another post...
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