Monday morning, 0500, PT time. In the rotating cycle of who leads the session, today is Gunny's, mine is Wednesday.

Except that Gunny is on leave, so we skipped over him. Whoops. Wish I had a plan.

It was cold and drizzling a slow, steady, depressing rain. As we stretched out, the Lance Corporal gallery started to mutter about what they were going to do in the weight room after I took us to the gym, where it was nice and dry. I can't stand being seen as too predictable, so I took us off running along the Habu Trail, the base perimiter track. Did I mention it was raining? My glasses fogged and misted up, making them so useless I put them in my pocket so I could at least see things nearby. We ran out about a mile and a half, stopping twice for calisthetics, then ran back about a mile. The last half mile I cut everyone loose for an individual effort run back to the barracks.

Then I got to share a bitch session with Cpl O on that last individual effort section, as we were the two in the back. LCpl C falls back every group run, complaining that his knee hurts. He's been to the sports medicine clinic, and they can't find anything wrong with him. But after trailing all morning, whenever we call individual effort back to the house, he takes off like a jackrabbit. So he can run fast when he wants to. Cpl O's and my opinion was that he's undoubtedly in pain. But guess what, we two old guys hurt every time we PT. Setting a pace to stress 19 year olds is murder on us 30+ types. But we do it, because it's our job as Marines, and because being fast can save your life in combat. So our pain-wracked legs and backs give us very little sympathy for someone that complains it hurts when he runs, but then makes great time when it's in his personal interest.

Posted by: Boviate at 04:07 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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