PT

Physical Training.

I don't remember how often it was but any amount of time would have been too often for me to have PT. Back then we didn't have PT uniforms so we'd wear whatever one wears to work out in. On occasion, we'd have a mandated "PT Uniform" which consisted of BDU pants, brown tshirt and running shoes. Mostly though, we wore civilian attire.



We'd gather in our company formation at 6:00am and after some formalities, there'd be some stretching, push-ups and side-straddle hop (jumping jacks). After that we'd be marched in formation, that "FORWARD! MARCH!" command and then the most dreaded words that I ever heard in my life would come. . . . "DOUBLE TIME! MARCH!"


Off we'd go running in formation. I hated running in formation which I can fully explain in two words - short legs. We'd all be running at the same pace and keeping up with those guys' long strides was a killer for me. I'd run and run until I simply could not breathe and then I'd drop out of formation --and that was never good. 1SG didn't like anyone dropping out of his formation. Fellow soldiers didn't like when you dropped out of formation. There would be the company running in unison then some stragglers trailing behind. Yup, that was me. The worst was when 1SG would make everyone run back and pick up the stragglers and keep doing that until everyone stayed in formation. Those that habitually dropped out usually got called into the 1SG's office.


It wasn't that I couldn't run because I could. In fact, I had never once failed a PT test my entire time in the Army. Sometimes at night I'd run 2 miles --just for fun. Yeah, I said it --I ran just for fun! 1SG wanted to see me succeed in PT. He wanted to help me hang so one day he came to me and told me I'd be the pacer. Now the person that is in the front row, far right column sets the pace. 1SG told me I was going to run in that position and the entire company would run at my pace so I wouldn't have to fall out. Fabulous idea!


The next PT formation just before the march 1SG called me out of formation and told me to take my place --so I did. We started our run and I wanted so badly to do my best. I was running my heart out. Look at me!! I'm a soldier!! Look at me running in formation!! All was going great until -- I could hear all of the moaning and groaning in the formation. The guys were all complaining and yelling for me to pick up the pace. I was running my heart out --practically sprinting and yet, here are these tall soldiers with long legs practically walking. Finally, as the guys could take it no more, 1SG called me out of formation. I dropped back and the formation took off without me.


Fail!


Later 1SG called me and some other guys from our company into his office. He had another grand idea. This time he told the guys, who were all great runners, they were going to be responsible for keeping me in formation. He put one directly in front of me, one behind me and one each to the left and right of me. So I was basically smack dab in the middle of formation. He told the guys no matter what, they were to make sure I didn't fall out of formation. He said, "Whatever you have to do, I don't care if you have to pick her up and carry her, you make sure she stays put in that formation."


It wasn't like I was in trouble because I honestly was trying my best. It had less to do with my determination and physical fitness and more to do with the fact that --I was short. The guys weren't mad either as I think everyone wanted me to succeed at this as much as I did. It was like big brothers helping me out.


So we get into formation and just before we start out, we all get in position. We started running and all was going well. Along with the cadence, the guys were counting and talking to me --keeping my breathing steady and my pace up with the company. All was going well until suddenly, I couldn't breathe --which is what always happened to me when I ran at this pace. "Guys, let me out!" I said but none of them would. The thing is, unless they made a way for me to get out, I had no choice but to keep the pace up. I couldn't stop --it would be like a race car slamming on breaks in the middle of a course --causing a pile up. If I stopped, every soldier behind me would stop or stumble. I kept running but all the while I felt like I was getting less and less air. "I'M NOT KIDDING! LET ME OUT!" Well, the 4 guys flanking me would not let me out. We ran and ran. I was certain I was going to die right then and there but before said death came upon me, the run was done. I did it. I ran the entire 2 mile run in formation and bonus, I did not die in the process however; I had a difficult time breathing most of the morning. My chest was hurting and I just never felt like any breath was enough air. As I write this now, I wonder if it had anything to do with my childhood asthma.


That was the only time I ran in formation like that and let me tell you --so glad it was! Aside from my disdain for running and my basic human need for air, it was stinky in there --running with all those sweaty guys. Later 1SG and I would come to an agreement that as long as I continued to pass my PT tests and could run 2 miles, he didn't care what pace I ran at --I just had to complete a run each day. That was a beautiful idea that worked well until the CG had a grand and glorious idea to have Division PT. He also had the most grand and glorious idea that the most fit person in the division would be the one to lead. And so it was . . . .everyone was talking about Division PT led by the one and only . . .

Staff Sergeant Newsome.

That guy was really starting to get on my last nerve.