SEAL Training 1: The Journey of a Thousand Miles

The journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step. In 1985, I went into the Navy to become a SEAL because I wanted to fight terrorism and insurgents with the best. At that time, most Americans knew little about SEALs or terrorism, but I’d been doing some research. During boot camp at Great Lakes, Illinois, I got my chance to take the Physical Screen Test (PST).

We started out with the swim.

And I failed.

Do not go to BUD/S Training, do not pass Go, and do not collect $200.

I was devastated, but I picked myself up and recommitted to accomplishing my goal while trying to make the best of the situation.

I ended up stationed at Long Beach, California. The Navy had good pools, and I trained in them often. I often did ocean swims with fins. Runs, pushups, sit-ups, chin-ups–I tried to get in shape.

Months later, two other guys on my ship, Rudy and Clodges, wanted to be SEALs, too, so we trained together. Then one day they told me, “The PST is tomorrow. Let’s do it.”

“I’m not ready yet,” I said. “I’m going to Hospital Corpsman School then get assigned to a Marine unit for a while. Then I’ll be in shape and try again.”

They pushed me. ”What’ve you got to lose? The worst thing that could happen is you fail.”

So the next day I went with them to take the PST on base. After showing our ID’s and paperwork, we stripped down to our swim shorts. A Navy SEAL reminded us, “All you have to do now is swim five hundred yards in eight-and-a-half minutes using the sidestroke or breaststroke.” (The requirements have changed since then—see the official Navy SEALs’ website for the latest information.)

I was nervous. At the sound of the whistle, we swam. I used the breaststroke, but after about two hundred and fifty yards I got tired and switched to the sidestroke. I had no technique whatsoever—just go as fast as I could from beginning to end.

As I neared the end of the swim, the clock neared the eight minute, thirty second deadline: eight minutes and twenty-seven seconds, twenty-eight, twenty-nine… I finished with only one second remaining.

I was both excited and shocked that I’d passed the first hurdle.

For those of us who remained, including Rudy and Clodges, we got dressed into t-shirts, long pants, and boots. “You have to do thirty-five pushups in two minutes and thirty-five sit-ups in two minutes,” the SEAL said. I did more than forty of each. One—Muscleman—did a lot more. But three of the candidates were sent walking.

“Next, you have to do six pull-ups from a dead hang—the time limit is over when you fall from the bar.” After exerting myself on the swim, push-ups, and sit-ups, I only had enough energy to do eight pull-ups. Muscleman did twelve. My buddies were still with me, but two more candidates failed.

The last part of the test was the run, wearing pants and boots. “You will run a mile-and-a-half in eight-and-a-half minutes. Good luck.”

At the sound of the whistle, Muscleman took off like a horse. I knew I couldn’t keep up with him, and I ran at my own pace. At about halfway, I passed Muscleman and some others. I crossed the finish line in under seven minutes. Two candidates were too slow—Muscleman was one of them. Out of the sixteen of us who started, eight of us passed the physical screening test, including Rudy and Clodges. I was so proud of myself—especially on the swim. But I still had to pass the dental, medical and hyperbaric chamber.