When all is quiet
I awake in my bed following a good night of rest thanks to the SeroQuel that I have been prescribed. This medicine has single-handedly made life here livable. I push the glow button on my watch, and it blares 3:30 a.m. I roll out of bed, and as I do, the bunk bed makes an irritating squeaking noise. The room is sinfully dark, so I take some time for my eyes to adjust. I put on my socks and my shoes that I had laid out before I went to sleep. I make my way out the door. Unfortunately, on the way out the door I just happen to trip over the board that sticks up. I go soaring through the air, hitting against the door and then landing on the ground. As I sit there on the ground in the dark, I think to myself, “Wow, who wakes up this early to run — especially in Iraq?” Since I was down on the ground, I decided to just stretch and do everything an old fart would do before going on a 10-mile pace run. After that, I made my way up the stairs, and just like 30 minutes before, I find myself tripping on the stairs landing hands first. “What the freak?” Those stairs are known to get people. You often here people just crashing and falling through the day, so I am not the only one. OK, you can laugh. I finally make my way upstairs and open the door. No, I don’t run into the door. The fresh air conditioning that I had been enjoying is no longer.
It doesn’t take long for you to break a sweat in Iraq regardless of the time. It comes out like Niagara Falls. The weird thing about me is I love to sweat when I run; it makes me push harder and take my body to the limit. On the flip side, I am a 10-minute shower guy, because I hate to get splashed by water. My squad knows that my skin is sensitive to it, so they like doing it for a laugh. Anytime you run in Iraq you need to understand what you’re getting yourself into. The first thing is breathing and, of course, the 120 degree heat followed by uneven terrain and every so often some crazy animal darting across in front of you while you’re running at night, scaring the poop out of you. Those will get you every time. If you don’t train in it every day, that is.
As the sun peeked up, I was making my way around my five-mile mark. I glanced at my watch, which I try not to do. It read 40:59:04. I started to make my way to the gym to do the rest of my five miles on the treadmill. In the morning, there are only a handful of people, so you can sing out loud or yell at the television that is usually playing sports games or some lame TV show. I finished my last miles strong and got off and walked back home. As I walked back home, I added up all of my times, and in my mind, I started going through all of the things I need to work on, such as head up and body straight, maximize my leg power and gait. As I walked back, I was greeted by the guys going to chow. “Hardt, did you jump in the pool?” I sweat badly. I mean from head to toe I am drenched. Another group of guys walked by and said, “Hardt, you run way too much; you’re disappearing.” I am losing a lot of weight, but I am eating the proper diet and doing cross training exercises. The last group went by and said, “Hardt, you make us look like fat bodies.” I laughed and pointed at my stomach and replied, “Just running with 193 pounds of this; it’s not easy.” The guys shook their heads. Out of the crowd, one of the guys responded, “You’re not normal.” As of late, I have worked up to 30 to 35 miles a week, and I am feeling great. I have a lot to work on, but to date I have 98 days left till the show.
When you train by yourself, there’s always that chance you can cut yourself short, so finding someone to be there is always a plus. Finding the right soul to do the training is by far the hardest thing to do. So a couple of weeks ago when I was doing an abdominal workout I noticed that one of the new guys who showed up awhile ago was running on the treadmill. It may seem odd, but I watched him for some time. I set my stopwatch, and then I started it to see what his gait count was. He had a good posture and looked like a good candidate, so I went to recruit.
Luke Fearey graduated from Bainbridge High School on Bainbridge Island, Wash., in 2004. After two years in college, he found himself bored with the academic life, so he enlisted in the Army as an infantryman. Almost one year to the day of his last college exam, he found himself on the tarmac on Baghdad International Airport. An avid runner since his year at the University of Hawaii, he has continued his passion for running while in the Army. I never push someone to do something; I just put it in their heads more or less as something to think about. The first thing I said to him was that I am planning on running the Seattle Marathon and I need a training partner. As expected, he was apprehensive, but after some talking and giving him guidance and further understanding of the process, he was sold on it. The thing about Luke is that he is young, and I see untapped talent, so mentoring him along the way makes me feel like I am back into coaching again. I love the feeling of having responsibility and accountability for someone in training. It makes me work harder and study more about the art of running.
The first rule implemented in our training was no military talk, none.
I once overheard a leader say to Luke, “Stay away from Hardt. Although he is a good guy, if you hang around Hardt long enough you will start being like him.” At first I was angered, and then I realized that being me is being a fighter and a man who is not afraid of stepping up and taking one for the Joe. It feels good to know that I am infectious. I give all the credit to my mom and dad for teaching me to stand strong in my beliefs and my convictions — even under scrutiny. I give Luke credit. He made the first step, and that is evaluating someone for yourself rather than having someone read the book for you — edited for their own convenience and character framing, but I digress humbly.
The first two weeks came and went, and we both hit the miles hard, leaving tired and on some nights so fatigued we had someone get food for us from the chow hall. We accomplished our first goal, which was running 10 miles. We both came in at 1:34:00. The next week we challenged each other and set forth our half-marathon training run. We both went through stages of feeling lousy, but the last four miles we came in hard, leaving us at 1:48:00. After the two weeks of training, we sat down and reconfigured our training, and now we are seeing many gains. One mile at a time I tell Luke, and soon before you know it you will be there.
As for combat, there’s nothing going on, and that is a good thing. As much as I want to get back to getting the bad guys, I am satisfied with walking around shaking hands and seeing gains in the community. For once, I am content. I feel so good, and I have direction. I will say that running has taken my mind off some of the battles I would fight ordinarily, but it’s good once in awhile to break contact. I can’t really afford it anyway. I do wish I could take the same passion that I have for running and transfer that into my career, but doing that sometimes makes you look like a kiss ass or someone trying to one up someone for brownie points. I can’t and won’t do it. I am too mentally strong and have too much self-preservation to do that.
Days are getting short and soon I will be home. Thanks to everyone for e-mailing me and giving me your hero’s story. Till then, I run.
Hey, watch that first step!
Keeping all of you in our thoughts and prayers until you are safely back in the United States. So many people here are proud of our troops and are thankful for the hard work and sacrifice made during this long deployment.
Stay safe,
Cathy and Gary B
Posted by: Cathy B | 27 July 2007 at 21:26
You are strong and will always be the strong guy. Always remember keeping yourself fresh and alive is very important to you and your family here at home. Remember changes in ones life it not alway s bad. Keep your strength strong . Your OK MOM
Posted by: Janice | 30 July 2007 at 08:36