June 15, 2007, 2:34 PM
I found out today that I got my first pick and will be going to ET Radioman A school… current mood: Fucking Stoked! I also got yellow card liberty (or phase two, if you will) and can now sport civilian attire outside after hours. Heading to the mall in a bit to hunt for Superman t-shirts.
June 13, 2007, 5:31 PM
I’ve been trying to think of a good starting point to pick back up with, basically wanting to catch you all up without coming across like I‘m whining.
Boot camp would be a good start I suppose. I’m not going to pull some macho bullshit on all of you and boast about how easy I thought it was. It was hard, for me at least… until I finally pulled my head out of my ass. Nothing was as hard as I was making it out to be, especially the physical fitness stuff which I will come right out and say I still feel is my biggest weak area.
The moment it got easier, more tolerable, was when I finally just accepted my situation. As sick as it sounds I slapped the label of “Home” on the place and just tried to make the best out of it. Even the PT and the final physical fitness assessment wasn’t so bad when I finally remembered what got me to RTC in the first place.
If any of you read this that went through boot with me I’ll let you in on a little shocker… I actually worked out before I went in. But the thing was I kept myself motivated and my endurance up when I ran by just telling myself “You’re doing this for Brenna… for Teresa… just keep it up… push harder…”
So what the fuck happened when I got to boot camp is anyone’s guess. I more or less lost my ability to push myself and instead developed a six a day hissy fit habit that just skull-fucked my ability to work out. Going in to the final PFA I’m sure many of my RDC’s were chalking me up as a lost cause, hell I would have to if I were in their shoes. But somehow in the last forty eight hours I had a complete change of attitude and just decided I wasn’t going out like that.
Sure maybe it was the loving way Petty Officer Eidsvaag beat the wholly dog snot out of me a few days before (I got IT’d for so long people would later tell me about how they’d look up occasionally from what they were doing and think “shit Baker’s still up there….”) or the days of persistent shit talking about my motivation from both him and MA1 Hayes that got me fired up. Maybe it was the head butts I dished out to the bathroom stall in the head just before I went out to the starting line, who is to say?
I had the Jeff Hardy’s entrance music pumping in my head for about forty eight hours before the PFA and it was loud as ever moments before the run. I was actually bouncing from foot to foot and running in place waiting for the order to start running. I must have had one mother of a look on my face too because I could hear Hayes say “Look at Baker…” from the sidelines. The most astonishing thing is for once it didn’t sound like I was being mocked, I’ll go to my grave thinking I was actually impressing them with the difference in how I was attacking this.
I made the first lap and in a somewhat encouraging manner Hayes told me I was actually maintaining a good pace. I made one more lap by which time Petty Officer Balaguer had shown up and started running with me. Unexpected but damn sure welcomed.
It wasn’t a pretty run, by any means. I sounded like I was giving birth and you could no doubt hear me from the other side of the gym I’m sure. By the sixth lap Eidsvaag had shown up and while he was trying to keep his “All recruits are scum” resolve I really think he was interested in how I was doing. Balaguer held up six fingers and we kept on going.
According to the official time I did my mile and a half in 12:47. No I didn’t exactly set the world on fire or break any world records but damn I‘m proud of what I did. That’s a minute thirteen better than anything I ever did at home, and yes when I got the final word that I passed I started squirtin’ tears of joy like a mother fucker. It was at that moment I knew I was going to graduate and get the fuck out of there. There were still some big hurdles in the way but I just felt like hell they were nothing compared to what I just pulled off.
If this entry somehow gets back to any of my RDC’s I’d like to personally thank them, with special mention to Petty Officer Balaguer and Eidsvaag. I honestly believe I would have passed without him but what Balaguer did damn sure helped and it was one of the most awesome things anyone has ever done for me. I’ve always felt like the true measure of someone was what they do for you when they don’t have to or have any reason to, and that man is a saint now in my book.
And Petty Officer Eidsvaag… I want to thank you most of all. Given the size of my mellon the rectal-cranial inversion you performed on me was nothing short of miraculous. I’m going to go ahead and believe that all of the “tough love” was a motivational trick on your behalf and think that deep down you really wanted to see me succeed. And since that’s the going belief on the planet I’m from, I thank you and wish you the best in your future endeavors… I don’t think I could have made it without you.
And as a side note, I’m happy to announce I passed my first BESS PRT… my numbers weren’t spectacular but I passed, and that was after not having done diddly-squat for two and a half weeks by way of exercising. The first win was nice but pulling a back to back was what I needed to seal my confidence level on future attempts. I’m looking forward to a long and (knock on wood) successful career in the United States Navy.
Oh and to ABH1, if it wasn’t a motivational technique, then hopefully that last sentence is enough to make you shudder. Dueces!
