The Beast Within

This blog is going to be completely different from the previous ones I have posted for multiple reasons. One is this one was not written for a college paper so I am sure it will be loaded with grammar errors. I have no intention on having it proofread. The other reason is I am going to dig deep on this one to publicly share what I fear most. I do feel inspired from a blog my sister recently wrote in which she shared some unintentional secrets that she has lived with, she was searching for answers. I too have been searching for answers and reasoning on why things are the way they are for me. I have had to dig deep within myself to understand the beast within me. The beast that only a few have come to meet and know quite well. The beast that many will say does not exist within me. The beast that others know lurk deep inside of me because they too have a beast within them. The beast that I struggle to fight daily with that has destroyed so many things in my life and a select few others lives. I have thought over the past few weeks in great detail of how I would write this not knowing if I would even share it. After my sister shared hers I decided to face my fear in sharing these secrets with everyone. A few years ago I swore I didn’t give a shit who knew what anymore which is true I have become more open than I have ever been in my life. However, some of these things I didn’t even know about myself or understood as much as I do today. So all I can do is write on my experience and the knowledge I have gained from the beast that I have come to know so well.

The first part I will write about a few past experiences that have been significant in my life to give some background on my reasoning for the theory that I have come to believe and have with myself as well as others that I have come to know. As many know I served for 10 years in the U.S. Navy honorably. My career was very high tempo during my time of service with multiple deployments and extensive time away from my family. Some of those details are irrelevant other than the fact the high pace service kept me from facing my demon and coming to terms with the fact that I had a problem. The most significant part of my career that I believe left a long lasting impact on my life was my Iraq deployment. Now before you ask what the fuck was I doing in Iraq I’ll explain. I served with NMCB 133 out of Gulfport which is a Seabee Battalion and I found myself on a convoy team for deployment in 2005-2006. We spent months preparing for this deployment and learning all the weapons extensively as well as the trucks and communications. We would do training cycles up at Camp Shelby for a week here and there to get our team in line on all of our jobs. I was a 240B Gunner in vehicle 6 which was a Humvee.

Training wasn’t only about shooting our weapons and becoming well versed with the comms we were also mentally preparing for the job we were about to face head on. We all had to come to terms that this deployment could kill us or injure us extensively from road side bombs and IEDs or simply shot from a terrorist. We were going into the hot zone. Now realistically those thoughts weigh heavily on a person and leaves an impact but to me the most heavily impact that faces me today is the other one. The one where we had to come to terms with the place we had to go in our heads and our hearts to carry out the mission. It is easy to say “I would shoot someone” it is a whole ordeal to actually have to make that decision and truly mentally prepare for the idea that you may actually have to hold someone at gun point and pull the trigger. You have to dig deep within yourself and know that if certain things happen you have to be able to react and react violently. The kind of violence that would scare most people, the kind that even if shot or injured you would fight bloodied and broken to kill violently the enemy that has caused harm to you and your team. The kind of place that you mentally have to go that you can never in my opinion return from. When a potential terrorist or enemy choice not to follow orders given to him you violently made him do it. Sometimes you just had to scream and demand him do what he was told, other times you had to give a little encouragement with a small arms pointed at him. These things sound terrible for normal society but these things became the daily norm while in country during that period of time. The war was pretty hot and heavy during the time we were deployed, not to mention some of our gear was not as good as the gear available to service members today.

The theory I have is this once a person does something once he can do it again. We all know that theory, if you can build one deck then you can build two so on and so forth. After doing something the first time you can easily do it a second time. Well this relates to that deployment and that mental state of mind that I had to go to for that deployment as well as every other service member that has walked in similar shoes as me. Today 10 years later in a relationship I at home it is not a good thing for me to end up in an argument. Because mentally once a fight at home begins the place in my head that I go sky rockets and I simply black out. The words that will come from my mouth will be violent in nature and hurtful because I am determined to win at all cost just as I needed to win on that deployment. If saying hateful things hurts the other person, then it means I win. This is absolutely wrong in so many ways and I am unsure to this day how to correct this problem.  It has occurred numerous times in my life since then where things have been said that cannot be taken back, things that were truly not meant from the heart. They came from the beast within me, the violent beast. The same beast that destroyed a bedroom door when it reared its ugly head as well as a few other things. The beast that physically scared the person that it reared its ugly head to. The things I have done to the people I love the most brings me to my knees in pain knowing the hurt I have caused those around me.

My family too has seen this beast in different ways, usually I am able to hold those outbursts back and away from them, but when I am alone or in a place I feel safe and free that beast comes out vengefully. Sometimes that safe place is knowing the person that is about to see the best loves me unconditionally and I subconsciously do not feel that it would scare them if they see it. There is never any time to rationally think of these things to stop them on my own it always happens quickly when it does like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Usually it never fails that the times this happens are always when I am at my weakest in life, such as being down from job loss or lack of money. Or possibly believing in a future plan but not knowing the facts of how they will play out. When I am pressured to the point of popping and absolutely stressed to the max is when I am weak and the beast is able to take over me. Sometimes that beast just causes me to be in a sour mood and no matter what role you play in my life and how happy I am to have you the ones that love me the most are the ones that pay that price. I will get ugly towards them with words and sarcasm, I will doubt what they say because it was beat in me a long time ago to not trust anyone or even trust your own eyes. A pile of trash could be a 155 shell hidden to kill you. These things have created doubt in me in even the things I believe deep down inside of me. They have caused me to be unsure and hesitant especially towards the things that can hurt me which I have learned my most protected assist that I get the most violent against is my heart. When I say violent please keep in my mind I mean with words and physical damage to my surroundings, I have never once laid my hands on anyone, just want to be clear on that. About the only thing that I know that helps during these times is if the person recognizes what is going on with me and quickly deescalates the situation and calms me back down because walking away and stopping is not a rational option for me once that line has been crossed in my head. That is a big chore for any person to take on.

So before you think that I have my shit together completely and that all I am is a big hearted teddy bear please keep in mind you do not know me at all. Only those that have lived with me for a significant amount of time have seen different sides or got a taste of this beast. It’s not something that shows its head all the time but the times that it has have been significant incidents that have truly hurt other people and have changed the relationship in which I have with them. I am by far no angel as I know no one really is. I am actively pursuing help the issues that I have within me to make me a better man, a better father, a better son and brother as well as a better lover. Therapy is one of the ways I am being helped with education to teach me steps and techniques that can help to control this. Another treatment is in the near future I will be acquiring a service pet to aid me in daily life. One day I hope that all of this will be a story and a thing of the past and not a reoccurring aspect of my life. Until then I will continue to search within myself in whatever way I can to learn to control this beast so that I am not causing anyone in my life harm from being close to me. Unfortunately, those that I have hurt the most are also the ones I have loved the most. It’s a tough price to pay to be loved by me and the beast within me.  With all of this being said I beg for forgiveness from those I have hurt and wronged with the beast, this is a public apology and my way of holding myself accountable for my actions and to hold myself accountable to do what I said I would do and that is to be a better man in life.

Outlaw Motorcycle Clubs

     Before a person can begin to understand the importance of an Outlaw Motorcycle Club (OMCs), they must understand what that is. An Outlaw Motorcycle Club is a very unique societyof very few men who choose to be a part of something bigger than themselves and a brotherhood beyond any that cannot be found elsewhere. Its origin and structure evolved from the Military many years ago, utilizing the leadership structure and rank system. Furthermore, there is a very unique few who make up the 1% er Outlaw Motorcycle Club community. Clubs such as the Bandidos, Hells Angels, Outlaws, Pagans, Mongols, and Sons of Silence are all a part of the 1%er Motorcycle Club community. The 1 % er designation was labeled by the AMA (American Motorcycle Association) back in 1947 in a statement they wrote for their magazine, stating that 99% of motorcycle riders were law abiding citizens and that only 1% were criminals (“AMA 1947”).

          The earliest form of Outlaw was Jesus Christ himself, it’s because Jesus didn’t fit into           the religious mold, or the government mold like the other 99% of society. Jesus and               his followers were the 1% that didn’t “bow down” to the worlds ways. They were in               the world, but not of the world.  Jesus was an outlaw, but he was not a criminal.                       Being an “outlaw” doesn’t mean you are a criminal; it just means you don’t conform             to the world system or its leaders and its officers. (Ridenour)

Many people will disagree with the importance of Outlaw Motorcycle Clubs. This is largely due to the lack of understanding and positive exposure to what these clubs do for our communities and some will dispute the negative claims while maintaining the integrity of their beliefs of the OMCs.

        Outlaw Motorcycle Clubs date as far back as post World War II era when soldiers came home longing for continued brotherhood. They have always played a major role in urban cities social culture. Their existence, although grotesque to some, has always served their communities in a positive light. The actions of individuals at times are spotlighted by the media, which often is government driven, to gain support for banning identifying patches (also known as colors) of the OMCs. For example, the U.S.’s ATF agency tried to ban the Mongols Motorcycle Club’s patches in 2013. However, it would have broken the First Amendment rights of the club (Girardot).  The Government wanted to ban the club from being able to wear their patches publically, due to a few incidents of select individuals who are most likely not in the club anymore, since Clubs often police their own. OMCs all follow strict guidelines or bylaws which consist of their rules and regulations. If a member disobeys these rules, they can be punished by being stripped of their patches then banned from the club. It is possible the Government is afraid of these clubs around the U.S., because of their open display of unity and commitment. They are men willing to stand their ground, even against the court system, to fight for rights, as a whole. These men are veterans, fathers, husbands, brothers, sons, and uncles. The rights they fight to protect are the same rights that affect non club members, other motorcycle riders, as well as, the general public.

      There are many positive examples of these OMCs, that many only see in a negative light.One such positive example was the Hells Angels Toy run of 2015, where the club gathered funds that had been raised throughout the year to purchase a large number of bicycles (“Hells Angels Toys 2015”). They waited in line at Walmart for 5 days to catch the Black Friday sale and bought every bike in stock, roughly 200 bikes, in order to give bicycles to children whose families were too poor to purchase them themselves. Acts like this one can be seen throughout the United States by clubs of all levels. Clubs range from Christian Clubs, Veteran Clubs, Support Clubs, and OMC’s. All of which contain some of the biggest-hearted men and women one could ever meet. These are the types of people who manage fundraisers for burn victims, families who have lost their homes, children with special needs, and even the elderly.

        Make no mistake, these Clubs are not the Boy Scouts; they abide by a strict code and rules of the road protocol (Devereaux). At times incidents can occur by the acts of individuals that belong to these organizations. These incidents are often made to be more serious than they really are, and some are no worse than the crimes committed by the arresting authority or an average civilian. On May 17th of 2015 in Waco, Texas, men and woman from all clubs throughout the state of Texas gathered for a Coalition of Clubs meeting, which is to educate riders both independent and Patch holders within clubs of current laws and policies that may or may not affect them. It is also a social gathering amongst riders, and information is commonly shared about upcoming events and benefits. On this day, shots rang out, leaving nine people dead and another eighteen wounded. According to Brian Doherty, who writes for GQ, a grand total of 177 individuals were wrongfully arrested. To this day, it has yet to be proven that the gunfight that broke out started with shots fired from club members, and no police officer has been charged with illegitimate arrest or excessive force. Reports indicate that the first couple of shots were small arms fire, and the rest that followed were all automatic weapons, but no one has been able to identify the first shooter (Doherty). Everyone present that day was arrested, including both civilians and members of Motorcycle Ministries, all of which are innocent and spent a great deal of time in jail with extremely high bails. An interview was conducted by KXANS Brian Collister with Bandido Jimmy Graves, who is the Coalition of Clubs President in Waco, where he expressed the Bandidos recognize and respect law enforcement for doing their job, that they do not condone the violence portrayed upon them (“Bandidos”).  “To get the story crooked is to understand that the “straightness” of any story is a rhetorical invention: a story told from a particular perspective, informed by specific trainings told for a particular reason, to serve particular purposes. History is at best a reasoned report on the documented sources of the past” (Kellner 18).

        Members of Outlaw Motorcycle Clubs are professionals; they may not look like professionals by some individuals’ standards, because they are bikers. Despite the positive actions of club members, the media still portrays them in a negative light by focusing on the bad behavior of a few; for this reason alone, bad behavior and negative publicity is not condoned by clubs or members. The 1%er clubs often police the activities of the clubs within their area to ensure they are “behaving” accordingly and following protocol within the community of clubs. If they do not do this, then there is the possibility of individuals creating negative chaos in the area in which they reside, causing the local law enforcement to crack down on all bikers and provoke unlawful use of force. In turn, the 1%er Outlaw Motorcycle Clubs are protecting the local community in which they reside by protecting all bikers and keeping the negative activities to a minimum. If more individuals would spend time amongst these men, they would see, with their own eyes, the good they do for the community, and all of the charity events along with donations raised to help people in need. They would also see the love and the brotherhood shared by the members of these Clubs as well as the bonds from club to club. These men are the kind of men filled with passion to fight to make things like brotherhood and sisterhood possible by protecting an individual’s rights and protecting people in need, helping friends and strangers alike, standing tall for freedom, love, loyalty, respect, and trust. In which they believe, in a very powerful and sometimes intimidating force. Similar to a battalion of soldiers on the battlefield who have gone to fight and protect what they believe to be right. While protecting these rights, they provide a blanket of freedom for others to sleep under. A positive impression from an experience in this community could help to spread a positive influence throughout our society. This influence would encourage society to stand together to help others in need, even those who are members of Outlaw Motorcycle Clubs.  

Young Guns

One of the easiest things I have done in my life is return to college at 32 years of age with a 7-year gap from the last course I completed. After spending almost a decade of my life in the military, one would think that transitioning to school full time without having to get up and go to a day job would be easy. Not having to wake up at the crack of dawn to go to a job that one really isn’t happy with is a wonderful thing. However, being the oldest in my classes, even older than some of my professors, makes attending class fairly awkward. The social aspect with my peers due to the age difference is quite complex in itself. For one, when speaking to classmates some appear to not even be of age and old enough to attend these classes in college. It really makes me feel like “that guy”, the old fart going through a midlife crisis. I have traveled around the world, been to war, married, divorced, and have a daughter of my own that is in middle school. I own my own home as well as small business. My day to day chores vary greatly in comparison to that of most of my classmates. All in all, keeping up with the young bucks in my classes is by far the simplest tasking I have encountered thus far in my life.

Some of my classmates were attending school the year prior to being in class today, therefore, the material is fresh. Essentially, I am having to work twice as hard to remember and reteach myself material that is second nature to them. Google and YouTube have become my best friend for academic help. I had to go as far as watching a video on YouTube to learn how to properly use my calculator to find square roots. Meanwhile, my classmates are answering the square roots as well as other algebra problems without ever looking down at their calculator. In my English class, I have classmates that are able to decipher an essay with ease. However, for myself I read these essays, take in what I have read with a good understanding of what was written but I am unable to pick the essay apart rhetorically. I have opinions of what I read and a new profound look on the topic that was covered which makes me feel accomplished. Being able to proofread an essay seems to come with ease for my classmates, however I struggle greatly with this. Once again I can read a few sentences and only discover one or two errors whereas my classmates will find a dozen or more. This causes me to both laugh as well as question the ability my previous English teachers had to teach me.

Homework is just as I remembered in high school, short and straightforward is how I believed it would be. However, long hours are spent trying to complete some of what appears to be simple assignments. I have seen fellow classmates complete these assignments within the 20 minutes before class begins, the same assignment that I spent over two hours the night before trying to complete. At times it makes me wonder if I am amongst geniuses in all of my classes and this was done purposely to cause me to work harder to keep up with these young guns. I have become accustomed to juggling things like household chores, repairs, upgrades, lawn care as well as quarterly taxes for my business unlike homework. All these things that seemed easy before I started doing homework on a daily basis. So I find myself bouncing back and forth throughout the day or evening between a chore and assignment, trying to find a happy balance between the two so that I do not fall behind with either.

My outlook on life also is considerably different in comparison to my younger classmates. For some they have only begun to see life and what it has to offer while some would say I have lived a lifetime already. I’ve witnessed some of the more horrific things that one can see as well as seen some of the beautiful things that cannot be described by an amateur writer. Some of the wonderful adult tasks of life that weigh on my shoulders vary greatly in comparison to my young classmates. These young whipper snappers are experiencing things like Ghostbusters and Mission Impossible for the first time while I was there from the beginning. Nothing compares to the first time you see Dan Akroyd suck up a ghost. My worries are far more extravagant on a daily basis than for some, more like Indiana Jones reaching the temple of doom rather than Nemo finding his father.

My gray hairs are far from an indication of me being just the “old guy” in class. They represent a life that I lived that my classmates are just beginning. Life essentially has brought us together at this point in time. There are many things I can share about life with these young bucks as well as many things they can share with me, like how to play beer pong with strategy. I could serve to learn a few things from the light saber toting students in the recreation center to battle professors for good grades like Luke Skywalker against dark forces. The struggles I face daily to be able to attend college at this point in my life are no laughing matter, although I occasionally make jokes about it to lighten the mood just as I would make jokes while in country and at war. Each day I push myself to work harder than the day before to maintain my grades, to be successful in class like my younger classmates. I worked for a long time and worked hard to be able to be here today. I have a lot of pride in being in school today, in a sense it is my current job and my job is to be taken seriously. I may be the “old guy” in class sometimes but I’ll always feel as cool as Maverick and Goose when I arrive at my seat, sometimes you have to keep upforeign relations amongst the age groups.

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Rockabilly Rebel

            The Rockabilly lifestyle is more than just music or an outfit. In modern day society people have watered down the subculture by not being true to the lifestyle that it is, only wearing the attire on occasions to appear to have the “look” associated with it. Rockabilly is a subcultural of life that began in the 1950s around the time Rock ‘n’ Roll appeared in the music scene. The Rockabilly lifestyle today has evolved from what began as simply a Rockabilly music trend which is a combination of western music styles such as country mixed with rhythm and blues. Some of the more well-known Rockabilly artist that began this genre of music are Johnny Cash, Buddy Holly, Elvis Presley, and Johnny Lee Lewis. As time passed, artist such as Stray Cats, The Reverend Horton Heat, The Chop Tops, and HorrorPops appeared in the music scene. A lot of young listeners took a liking to this genre of music because it was not as mainstream as what was popular on the radio of those eras of time. They longed to be different and not follow the masses of society and be a rebel which was the desire they had. Essentially, Rockabilly, is composed of the younger working class generation.

            Clothing also began to evolve for the people that followed the Rockabilly music scene. Early on males’ attire consisted mostly of jeans cuffed at the bottom, industrial boots or chuck taylor shoes, white t shirts, and greased hair either slicked back or fixed in a pompadour. In the winter they wore either leather jackets or dickies style work jackets. For dressing up purposes wingtip shoes, jeans, and button up western style shirts or bowling shirts were popular. Many males today still wear this style clothing, in addition to some more modern twist with accessories and more options for shirts and pants, the basis is still the same. For woman in the Rockabilly culture, also known as Rockabellas, feature a flashy Pin Up look with big hair styles for fashion. Early on, the look consisted of low flat shoes, long skirted dresses, teased hair, and red lipstick. The Rockabellas look was an exaggerated version of an adult woman in the 50s. As time evolved the look has evolved with it. Today the Rockabellas have put more of an edgy twist to the attire. Rockabellas wear various combinations of lower cut tops revealing more cleavage, short and long skirts, jeans, flats, chuck taylors, and boots as well as heels. Their hair too has also gotten more elaborate with taller hairstyles, curls, accessorized with pins, bows, and bandannas. The makeup too has become more edgy than just red lipstick, with winged eyeliner applied and various colors of lipstick to stand out more. For both men and woman tattoos are more common as well with having full sleeves of tattoos, tattooed chest pieces, as well as hand tattoos, and piercings.

            There are other parts to the lifestyle not associated with the clothing choices and music choices. Many people today prefer the more vintage essentials in life. Including items used within the home. Record players are popular, Pyrex dishes as opposed to plastic containers made today as well as woman conducting daily chores while wearing aprons just like the woman in the 50s and 60s. The fascination for daily life in how people lived throughout the 50s, 60s, and 70s is appealing to the people amongst the Rockabilly subculture. Rockabillies often tend to drive vintage cars from those era’s as well as wear the clothing. Of course today one simply cannot get by without some modern amenities but many still choose some of the same that were around in the past as opposed to modern choices. Around the world, occasionally throughout the year, there are even social events that people can attend to be amongst their peers in this subculture within society. Rockabilly bars, car shows, bike shows, and even fashion shows are all examples of the social environments of which Rockabillies tend to attend. The atmosphere at these events are considerably different than other modern social gatherings. People are beautifully dressed for the part, laid back, relaxed, and there is always plenty of bands or cars to see.

            Many prefer this lifestyle because it brings a sense of simplicity and satisfaction to their life. It allows them to express themselves colorfully amongst the public with the dresses, crazy hair, and tattoos. This also symbolizes a feeling of freedom from what they feel to be the standard in modern society as far as how to dress and look. The way of thinking is also more simple as opposed to modern society. The cars have a lot less to them making it easier and cheaper to repair for daily use. A sense of pride is taken in being able to wrench on your own automobile to customize it in ways they did in the past with custom paint jobs, skulls for decorations, lowered suspension, loud exhaust, and tall shifters. The cost associated with living this lifestyle can also be simpler for the modern day person. Having no loan or a small loan on your car can aid greatly in being able to maintain your home and other daily living aspects such as food and utility bills. Not having your home outfitted with every latest and greatest piece of technology that comes out on the market also allows more resources to be used on the important essentials of life. Above all the Rockabilly lifestyle can be defined as simple freedom, self-expression, and a simpler way of life.

            For myself this lifestyle has brought great many of joys to me. I prefer many of the vintage amenities of the past as well as the clothing choices, and automobiles. I drive a 1954 Belair Hardtop daily, which was a very popular car in its time as well as today. I spend many of my weekends or afternoons maintaining or customizing this car just as the Rockabilly guys were doing in the 60s and 70s. My home is also of this same era built in 1955 with many amenities from that time as well. The clothing is appealing to me because I feel myself and comfortable when dressing Rockabilly. The music I also find to be enriching, the lyrics and tunes move the soul, and I absolutely love the look of the Rockabellas of today’s time. Whenever an opportunity presents itself I attend Rockabilly events throughout the area, and I encourage others to attend as well.  When I see someone dressing the part the first thought that comes to mind is wondering, “are they really Rockabilly?” in the aspect that they live the lifestyle or simply choose the Rockabilly/Rockabella look for that day’s attire. I always find it inspiring to meet people who have also opened up to the lifestyle that is Rockabilly and share the same joys of the simpler life that I do.

 

 

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Reflection

          It was a cold spring day in Coronado, CA 2011 as I stood on the beach reflecting back on the previous weeks of training that led to this moment. I had just failed out of a major training program that I volunteered for and was selected to attend. My pride was hurt and my heart felt heavy as I thought of all that I had learned throughout the preparation and application process of this training course. I learned a great deal about myself, such as my bodies capabilities, limits, and mental determination. Being selected for Naval Special Warfare’s SWCC training is an accomplishment and hurdle within itself.

             It all began about three years prior to that day while I was stationed in Gulfport, MS at Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 133. I chose to make a change in the direction of my life and career as I set out on a path to attend one of the most difficult military training programs there are. SWCC which stands for Special Warfare Combatant Craft Crewman is one of the top two most difficult Naval schools with an extremely high attrition rate averaging around 80%. Which means simply, on average, only 20% of the candidates that begin the course complete the course. The decision to become one of the elite and work with the quiet professionals of Naval Special Warfare was an easy decision to make. However, the work and effort that I had to put into the goal I set before myself was a difficult one. Essentially I would need to mold myself into a hardened athlete.

            For over two years’, day and night, when time allowed I conducted physical and mental training to condition myself for the program. Meanwhile, I had to maintain my day job in the military that I was assigned as well as manage my home life of being a father and husband. I had one biological daughter as well as a stepdaughter and stepson. Which created its own difficulties with spending family time with them. My kids would ask regularly about being able to go places to have fun and I would not be able to because my training schedule was strict. At night after long runs if I was able I would rock my daughter to sleep and I often would fall asleep with her in my arms. The older two would occasionally join me when I would run by riding there bikes and asking questions about what I was doing and why. The most common question from the kids and my wife at the time was “When are you going to have time for us?” These are some of the mental hurdles one must balance in the beginning of this long process as well as find the support at home to begin this journey.

             To prepare physically for the program I knew that I needed to spend long hours honing my skills in the pool and open water. I also needed to have my core strength along with brute strength adequate to complete all the calisthenics and allow my body to be able to make it through each day of training. Miles and miles would be run in this school, to condition our legs and test our bodies limit and mental capability. There is a physical performance test one must complete within the required standard for entry into this program. However, that is only an entry test and one should not stop with only being able to pass at the minimum. One thing about this community of Special Warfare is the attitude of the individuals being the best, the strongest, the fastest. Wanting to be first, because in a combat situation being in the back could mean being killed. To prepare I had to mentally envision myself and have an attitude of being elite in order to mold myself in becoming one of the elite.

            Every night I planned out a routine or basis for the following days training. Sometimes I trained how I felt but always made sure I had a minimum that I would do for the day to ensure I got a good work out in and would be able to continue taking steps forward. At least three days out of the week I went to the rescue pool on base where I trained with Navy divers. I would arrive at 5:15am and begin with treading exercises to condition my legs as well as breathing. Then we would begin swimming laps focusing on the side stroke technique otherwise known as the combat swim. Being fast in the water meant smooth strong movements with both legs and arms to create a stream line body that cut through the water like a pointed spear. This took time to develop that very basic technique. The Navy Diver, Chief Kohler, that ran this program to assist candidates such as myself, would treat us as if he was an instructor at the school. When we would swim laps he would time us, and if our lap time did not get faster than the previous he would yell to do it again. While treading water or other strenuous exercises he would play mental games and ask if I wanted to quit, if I was not strong enough to continue, or how bad did I want it. A lot of stretching is required to be able to get your body to lay out flat in order achieve that swim stroke successfully. In addition to swimming and treading we needed to generally be comfortable in the water, which also means being calm and capable of holding your breath for extended periods of time while utilizing your hands in tying rope to objects below the water’s surface as well as buddy tows.

            After my morning pool session, I usually followed it with a run between 3-4 miles. On days that I did not swim I would run distances between 3-8 miles. Never below 3 miles unless on the rare occasion that I ran a long distance the day before of at least 10 miles. I would follow that days run with a recovery run of 1-1.5 miles the following day. The runs were long and I wore through many of pairs of running shoes over the course of the two years as I prepared for the program. I suffered many basic injuries such as shin splints, soreness, blisters, chaffing, and general fatigue during this time. 

            Calisthenics were conducted on a daily basis and I generally rested on Sundays. The callisthenic exercises consisted of general things such as: pushups, sit ups, leg lifts, pull ups, and weight training. I developed a daily habit of randomly dropping down and doing a few sets of each of these as often as I could. In the school we would be conducting physical activities such as these throughout the day on top of long runs and long swims. Neither the running nor the swimming came easy to me. It took a lot of determination as well as devotion to hone my skills to be adequate in both. There were times where quitting is all I wanted to do. My wife would remind me when I felt weak of why I was doing this, she would tell me all the reasons I had told her in the past of why I wanted to go through the program. This reminder often helped me to keep my focus and drive to push forward with my goal. The pain from training takes a toll on a person’s body, it wears down the body both physically and mentally. I knew I could not stop because the goal was in my eyes and the desire was in my heart.  

            After two years of preparing and applying multiple times for the program I received a phone call from the Naval Special Warfare Detailer Chief Weinbeck at the time and he informed me I was finally accepted. Soon afterwards I found myself at the doorsteps of the Naval Special Warfare Center in Coronado, CA. Upon checking into the command I was assigned to class BCT-1, as well as issued uniforms and gear for the course. We were issued boots, BDU’s, wetsuits, fins, mask, Alice packs, as well as paddles. The paddles we had to carry with us in a certain manner and throughout the school the instructors would purposely break our paddles. At the conclusion of each day’s training we would have to fix the paddles, so that the morning of the following day it was as if our paddle were new again. Evenings and nights were spent cleaning our gear, repairing paddles, polishing boots, and applying first aid to our wounds of that days training. Blisters, chaffing, and athletes foot were all common medical issues we faced daily. Some sustained real injuries such as stress fractures and still continued the program. We would have daily discussions to try and help motivate one another. My swim buddy Pete would often tell me “the only easy day was yesterday.”

            My class lost 20 out of the original 40 within the first 10 days of training. Some simply could not handle the mental games the instructors played with us or the abuse they dished out. We stayed wet and sandy all day as well as cold. On any given day we ran 6 miles total just to go to the chow hall for the meals that day. On days we actually ran it would be at least a 7-mile beach run on top of the 6 we would run for chow. Throughout the runs we would stop and conduct calisthenics both in the sand and in the surf of the cold Pacific Ocean. One day we completed a beach run and upon entering the galley for chow I found myself with all the symptoms of having heat exhaustion. My motor skills were poor, vision was blurred, and bodies core temp was high along with the skin on my hands being clammy. Fellow students gave me their water to drink as well as passed down fruit to me while standing in line for food. I took the time in the galley that day to eat and hydrate myself in order to be able to finish the day out. Pete came over to sit with me and we talked about how I was feeling and he reminded me of why I was here and why I was putting my body through the rigorous conditions. I was able to finish that day without any other incidents.  

            The following day of training we were doing some swimming drills in the Coronado Bay and it was overcast and cool out. After a couple hours into the evolution I once again found myself in bad shape. I lost most of my motor skills and had an extremely low body temp. I was on the verge of hypothermia and the instructors knew it. One difference between this school and any other school is in a situation like that a teacher or instructor would immediately begin to provide aid to the student. However, at this school the condition I was in, meant in that moment I was the classes weakest link. One instructor, Chief Gomez, singled me out and began to make promises to me that if I quit I would have a warm blanket along with a hot cup of coffee. He also started asking questions about what my wife was doing while I was in school. A technique they used to play mental games to break a person down in their weakest moments to see if they will quit. Essentially the instructors job in this type of school is not to build everyone up but to weed out the ones who truly deep down do not want to be there.

            For me I continued on with assistance once again from my classmates. Who helped open my canteen for me to drink water as well as pack and carry my gear. Once an instructor saw I wouldn’t quit they pulled me aside to check to see how bad I really was and asked basic question such as my name and asked if I knew where I was. This told them I was still coherent. For the rest of that day I was monitored closely from a distance. It was a short time after this I sustained stress fractures on my left foot from a long beach run we conducted. I continued on with that injury for two more days before I was forced to throw in the towel and quit. I chose to quit the program because at the time I knew I only had a short period of time to heal and attempt the school a second time before I reached the age cut off limit of 28. I opted to quit to recover and come back. It was an extremely difficult decision to make and when I carried out my decision my eyes were filled with tears of failure. All of the time I spent and pain I suffered to prepare for this dream it ended in a blink of the eye. Not only myself but also my family suffered and paid the price of the journey I set forth three years before that day. I sat with my Proctor Instructor Garcia in his office to discuss my options. Unfortunately, quitting was the only one. Surprisingly he told me that he had a lot of respect for me as a student and the career that I had leading up to that point in time. This made me feel a little better about the outcome of my journey.  

              That evening I stood on the beach in Coronado and looked out over the Pacific as I reflected all of that I had over came and accomplished to have had the opportunity to be one of the few to attend the training. I may have not completed the course as I wanted to, but I learned just how far I am capable of pushing myself. I learned that the only easy day was in fact yesterday. That if I apply myself in the future as I did for this school I truly can accomplish anything I desire in life. I learned another saying from classmates that “if you don’t mind it don’t matter.” That statement in sense means to me if you don’t mind the task at hand then the pain that comes with the work to complete the task is all ok. I came to realize that I didn’t fail at all. My swim buddy Pete completed another two days of training after me before he also was forced to drop because of stress fractures in his foot. The class only had a total of 8 candidates at graduation day.