Running, shin splints, and nose bleeds…
Friends,
Ten weeks is a long time to be hungry.
I remember being very hungry during basic training.
After the initial gear issue, it was time to get down to business. And the first order of business was a P.T. test.
Ah, yes… the P.T. Test. A test of endurance, strength, and flexibility. The first one was just an initial overview. We didn’t have to do the ‘full requirements.’ They just wanted to see where we were physically. What did I learn? That the ground is pretty fucking far away when you are doing push-ups. That I had no stomach muscle to speak of. And a mile is a LONG four laps when drill sergeants stare at you.
Needless to say, I didn’t impress anyone.
I was put into ‘D’ group. Which meant I couldn’t run, and if I had to carry a man off the battlefield, we would both be killed. It was the first of many days I would question if I was cut out to be a soldier.
Don’t worry- the drill sergeants would change that.
I was hoping that my senior drill would be the one to take over ‘D’ group. He seemed pleasant. He had a big smile and a southern drawl, and he looked the part. If there was anyone who could shape me into becoming a warrior, it was him.
I soon learned he was wary of females. Not in a bad way. He didn’t treat us differently- he hated us all equally. However, there is hesitation when a male is selected to train female recruits. There were too many unknowns and too much room for ‘perception’; in other words, he had to walk on eggshells around us.
The Army hadn’t integrated males and females into basic training until 1994. This was 1999. That was not much time to wrap your head around changes. I didn’t know that at the time. I just assumed it had always been that way.
If we had to fight together, surely we had to train together.
Side note: integrated means we were in the same platoon and squads. The Army first tried integration in 1976 in Ft. Jackson, SC, where women were integrated down to the company level. But, they were still separate as far as the platoon level. In 1982, the Army discontinued the program because ‘men were not being physically challenged enough with women in the company.’
When I came in, females in the military really weren’t a thing. In the 80’s only 8.5% of the military (all branches) was female. And by 2000, it had jumped to only 15%. In 2000, military members totaled an astonishing 1.2 million. All branches- active and reserve. But only 15% of that population was female. If my math is right (I used Google), there were only 180,000 of us.
When I joined, there were no females in the infantry. But that’s a story for another day.
My group leader for the runs was a lovely, short female with blond hair, blue eyes, and a snarl that could scare a lion. I don’t think she knew she was in charge of ‘D’ group. The Turtle Group.
The company scheduled to run two miles? We did 2.5.
Sprint day on the field? Nope, we were sprinting and running.
I must have run the whole of Fort Leonard Wood over the course of ten weeks. I knew where the housing was. How to get to the PX. And where every damn hill was located.
God, I hated her and her effortless running ability.
But she was good. I improved from a 12-minute mile to a 17-minute two-mile in less than eight weeks. Looking back, I’m not sure this could be considered ‘wise’ by the medical community. But it was effective. And the Army is known for being ‘effective.’
Have you ever had shin splints? It’s pretty painful. Makes walking hard. Running becomes even harder. Not in the Army. Not in basic training. Nope, the pain is just a way to let you know you’re still alive. And if we are alive, then we can run.
I remember one day we were doing Last Man Up during a three-mile run. It was hot. A strangely hot day for 5:30 in the morning in May. We ran so hard that my nose bled. But there’s no stopping when you’re a mile away from the chow hall, so I let it flow.
Blood dripped down my face, into my mouth, and onto my P.T. shirt. The drill sergeant was mad that I had gotten my uniform dirty, but I didn’t know what else to do. I was hungry. I wanted to go back to the barracks and get some drippy eggs with stale toast. If I was lucky, there would be enough coffee for me to get a cup.
That’s the main reason I ran so hard. The first group in line got coffee. Looking back, the line was formed by platoons and rotated. But I remember thinking that if I ran faster and further, my reward would be a lukewarm cup of dyed water.
I can say, with all honesty in the world- that is when my coffee obsession started.
Until tomorrow, my friends- Keep Reading and Stay Caffeinated.
If tales of legend, myth, and fantasy topped with a cup of coffee interest you, I suggest checking out my book, The Writer and the Librarian. It’s a historical fantasy about a middle-aged woman faced with a decision: accept what is written in the history books or find out for herself the truth behind the stories. Limited edition copies are now available on my website (Shop – R.L. Geer-Robbins / Author (rlgeerrobbins.com) or at
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