Poolee Function #3 - IST, CFT

Wow, we are already on number three? It seriously feels like I swore in yesterday. I can't believe I've been in the DEP for three months already.

Either way, ready or not, I got my skinny butt up at six o'clock this morning and headed down to the recruiter's office where I met up with the rest of the poolees from our sub station and down we went to meet with the other recruiters and poolees from our region and have our poolee function.

I was quiet again on my way down and I have discovered that my silence is more of a result of a dislike of my PT recruiter than anything else.

My actual recruiter doesn't work out of the nearest office anymore. Recruiters, as it turns out, move around a lot. My actual recruiter is a pencil pusher with a very bubbly personality and never gets mad. The recruiter who replaced him and with whom I am supposed to do my PT is pretty much the complete opposite. He's as ornery as a snake, has quite the temper and the high opinion of himself. I suppose he has his own way of getting things done and while I don't hate him or begrudge him anything I find it easier to fly beneath his radar than accidentally find myself on the receiving end of his wrath.

So, in attempts to stay out of his verbal cross-hairs, I virtually disappeared into the back seat of his pontiac for the drive.

Once we got to the office we were informed that we were doing the IST (Initial Strength Test) and a modified CFT (Combat Fitness Test).

Apparently it is new Marine Corps policy that all poolees have to do two ISTs before they ship for Boot Camp. They have to do one 30 days before shipping and then within 96 hours of shipping. If poolees do not pass, they do not ship.

The requirements are as follows:

Male:

- 2 Pull Ups

- 35 Crunches (2 minutes)

- 1.5 Mile Run in 13:30

Female:

- Flexed Arm Hang for minimum of 12 seconds

- 35 Crunches (2 minutes)

- 1 mile run in 10:30

We started with the pull ups and flexed-arm hang and I was very proud of myself for doing 75 seconds. I maxed it with five seconds to spare!

We were supposed to be doing some kind of warm-up runs but my knees were hurting and I opted out of them.

Then came the sit ups and I bombed with only doing 44. Once again, I'm not sure why I did so poorly as I have done so much better.

As though I were not kicking myself enough my PT recruiter screamed out my name when he saw my crunch count and demanded to know why I did so poorly. My other recruiter was there and stepped in saying if my knees were bothering me the pain could have affected my crunches. The PT recruiter argued that knee pain should have no baring on abdominal muscles. My other recruiter disagreed. And while they battled it out I shrugged and slinked back to the rest of the group without saying one word either way.

Next came the run and I was nervous about it. My PT recruiter, as usual, wanted to make me run while my other recruiter said he didn't want to put me in more pain. He told me to get in the "safety vehicle"--the vehicle that drives behind formations and runs and picks up anyone who's fallen out--and off we went behind the other poolees who were running.

I felt bad and like a failure. Yeah, my knees hurt but this was just a repeat of the last poolee function where everyone looked sideways at me while I "got out" of the hard stuff.

It was amazing the difference riding with my recruiter vs my PT recruiter. He chatted away about his kids and asked me how I felt. He said they'd push my ship date back to see if I could get my knees in shape but if it wasn't possible it just wasn't possible and they wouldn't make me go to Boot Camp with shot knees. He was reassuring and easy to talk to and my spirits started to lift a little.

We also noticed a young man falling out of the run. Even the young PFC, home from Boot Camp on Recruiter Assistance couldn't motivate him to run. He was giving up and everyone was only about four minutes into the run.

"Let me out of the car," I said.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes. Let me out."

I got out and limped up beside the young man. "Come on. Let's go. I'm the cripple and I'm going to run with you. Keep moving your legs. Just walk fast. Don't slow down."

I grabbed his arm and pulled him along encouraging him to go just a little faster.

"I feel like I'm going to throw up," he said.

To which I responded, "If you have to throw up, throw up, but don't slow down."

From time to time I could coax him into a jog and even though it hurt in my legs it still felt good to be encouraging someone and helping them along.

When we came into view of the park I started sprinting and said, "I'm the cripple. If you can't beat me to the park then you've got problems. COME ON!"

He ran and finished one step ahead of me. I'll regret that tomorrow.

Then it was time for the CFT.

The CFT is rather new. The full version includes an 880 meter dash (I think) but we were not going to be doing the running portion and so they called it a "modified" CFT. The rest of the test means lifting a 30 lbs ammo can from your chest to the sky and back down a minimum of 40 times while wearing a flack jacket and helmet.

I managed to make it to 41. It's not as easy as it sounds.

Next, still in helmet and a flack jacket, with a dummy rifle added you are to run 25 yards, drop into a low crawl for 10 yards and then a high crawl for 15 yards. Then you weave through a series of cones for five yards where your "wounded" partner is waiting for you.

You drag him or her 12 yards, negotiating cones then then fireman carry him or her all the way back to the starting line.

When you drop your partner you pick up two 30 lbs ammo cans, run 50 yards, navigate 25 yards worth of cones, drop the cans, throw a dummy grenade, do three pushups, pick the cans back up and run back to the starting line.

Sounds like fun doesn't it? Here's a link to the whole image of the CFT course.

Well, it looked like as much fun as it sounded and when it was my turn I found myself on the line, helmet on, rifle in hands, flack jacket secure and ready to go.

My PT recruiter said, "What are you doing? Are you sure you want to do this? You don't have to."

"I'm doing it," I said.

"Okay," he said though I noticed he did not sound convinced.

I ran. I low-crawled. I high crawled. I maneuvered the cones. I grabbed my partner and dragged her. I fireman carried her to the starting line. I grabbed my ammo cans and ran. I maneuvered some more. I threw my grenade and almost hit the Staff Sergeant keeping score. I did my push ups and I limped my ammo cans back.

And I did it all in 3 minutes and 50 seconds.

Not bad for a cripple, says I.

I think even my PT recruiter was impressed. My other recruiter sure was. The Staff Sergeant just teased me for almost hitting him with the grenade.

It felt good to do it and to pass it. I felt accomplished and proud of myself. I think I won some respect back amongst the other poolees especially when there were guys who were dropping cans and their partners.

When it came time for the run back I fell into formation and my recruiter asked me if I was sure I wasn't overdoing it.

I said I probably was but that I wanted to do it.

I ran my heart out and passed a lot of people on the way back.

I couldn't help my limping once we finished the run but it felt good to complete the run with everyone else (in front of several).

On the drive back I was a little more chatty with one of the other poolees and a much needed Sub finished off my morning.

My knees are protesting but I'm not sorry or regretting what I did. I had fun and I did it. I pushed through the pain and I made it to the end. After all, depending on how things turn out with my knees, this might be the closest I get to the real deal. I'm going to live it up for what it's worth and be proud in my little poolee accomplishments.

Poolee Function #2

The last poolee function was rather fun even though I was excused for half of it.

I'll admit that I am very quiet around my recruiters and other poolees. I don't think I said more than five words the entire morning. I'm normally not like that. I'm usually very outspoken and energetic but I'll also admit that I was worried about the pain in my legs.

I had no idea what we were going to do for our Poolee function and when I was informed that we were going to be running to a park and then playing football I internally ran away to that place where my pain goes and hid in the corner, steeling myself for what was to come.

For the entire 45 minute drive to the office I didn't so much as look at anyone.

I was bound and determined to push through the knee pain of the run and the football just to show how tough I can really be when the Staff Non-Commisioned Officer In Charge (SNCOIC) came out of the office and said I wasn't running.

My recruiter made a small sound of disgust and said he didn't agree (although he used much more colorful phraseology) but the SNCOIC said it was his decision.

I was surprised he even knew about my knees. I hadn't told anyone but my recruiter about the pain and he had dismissed it to the point where I thought he would never deem it necessary to pass it up the chain of command.

I was grateful for the decision and was driven with one other injured poolee to the place where we were to play football.

My team was definitely the "outcast" team and we were slaughtered by the "football jock" team comprised of every football star in our pool group.

Every step felt like a knife to the knees but I hobbled along through two games of football. I managed even to complete a few passes and limb a yard or two before being tagged. Our team won the second time and I managed to have a little fun. Then I was driven back to the office while the other poolees did a formation run with cadence. I would have liked to have done that.

I was angry. At my knees. At the attitudes of those around me and the way they looked at me as though I weren't trying. And when my recruiter told me to stop limping I was furious at him.

For the drive back I was deadly silent again thinking only of the growing heat and pain in my knees and the frustration that I felt.

After a stop at the grocery store I went home and sat on the rocking chair with ice packs on each knee.

My husband, bless his heart, approached me gently and said, "Honey, I'm not trying to discourage you or make you feel like I don't support you, but I'm beginning to think this might not be physically possible for you."

Much to my wounded dreams and pride I said, "I'm beginning to see that."

I promised to take it easy and to go back to the doctor and then I left for my parents to visit my brother who had just returned from Iraq.

PT #2 = Not-So Colossal Failure

After my poor performance at PT last week and the general pissed off mood of my recruiter, it was no surprise to me that his FaceBook status the next day was, "Good PT for those who made it. For those who didn't, I have a surprise for you." (except his grammar wasn't as precise and his caps lock was most definitely engaged)

I started the C25K running program but only had time to do one day before it was time for PT again (my recruiter scheduled PT early this week).

Terrified for what was in store for me I began hydrating on Tuesday and all day Wednesday. I was praying that he wouldn't have up do another 3-mile run, especially since the weather called for the hottest part of the day to be exactly when we were to meet for PT.

I arrived at his office a good ten minutes early with my son, as usual, and immediately was put to work on crunches. No problem, except that every time my shoulder blades hit the floor my son would try to hug me which didn't do great things for my time.

Thankfully there is a football at the recruiter's office and my recruiter took to tossing the football with my son to keep him occupied while I finished my crunches.

For as burly, gruff, tough and rough as my PT recruiter is I am warmed and touch by how well he treats my son. He plays with him, talks to him gently and in a friendly manner and will play ball with him at any given chance. It would be just as easy for him to ignore my baby or get irritated that I have to bring him for the first few minutes of PT until my husband gets off of work but instead of making a deal about it he simply said, "Don't worry about it. It's not a problem," and has accepted my son's presence with ease which makes me much more comfortable.

Next I did my flexed arm hang and then went out to stretch when my husband arrived to pick up our son.

Then the recruiter came out and said, "We are doing another 3-mile run."

Oh joy.

We split up into teams and before we headed out the leader of our team looked at me and said, "By the way, if you fall out, you're getting carried." I assured him I would do my best to prevent that from happening.

This time and I'm very very happy to say that I did a mile and a half before I even felt the overwhelming need to slow down.

When we passed another team I heard someone say, "Common! They have the girl on their team and they are passing us."

One of the guys on my team said, "That was offensive."

To which I replied, "Not considering my performance last week."

"True," he said, "How about I just call it sexist?"

"Okay."

On the way back was when I started to have trouble. I never slowed to a walk (at least not a walk for me though at least one guy in my team complained that all we did was walk half the way) but if I slowed I kept it to a jog.

We came in second out of the three teams which I was very happy about, especially since no one had to carry me.

Today, however, my knees feel like someone has hit them both with hammers and I find myself irritated and frustrated. Perhaps a bit worried as well.

My knees are what stopped my running in November and then again in January. It was my knees that stopped my exercise routine in April and after a month of physical therapy for my knees I'm back to feeling pain in them. Will I ever get to a place were my knees won't hurt? And if my knees can't take a few miles of running with nothing but body weight, how will they handle multiple-mile humps with 30 lbs packs and loads and loads of gear?

I know that if, in the next four months, I'm not able to find a solution to my knee-pain problem, it very well may kill my enlistment which I'm really not sure I'm ready to face.

In the mean time I'm icing, icy-hoting, low-impacting and trying to strengthen them. Only time will tell what they can handle.

PT #1 = Colossal Failure

Let's just say it's a DARN good thing I don't ship to Boot Camp until October. My flexed-arm hang and my crunches may be good but my run is pathetic at best.

Since hurting my knees, being sick, taking weeks off to go to MI to be with my mother-in-law before she passed away, and then having to go back for the funeral when she did, I have done absolutely no running.

Yes, I have been able to swim but there is no good substitute for running.

Yesterday was the first PT I was able to make since enlisting.

We started out with pull-ups and the flexed arm hang for us girls and at least I did 64 second there. Next we went out and stretched and did some warm up exercises that I was keeping up with.

It was about 90 degrees and I had had less than a glass of water all day. This was my biggest mistake.

Then the recruiter came out and said we were going on a nice, long run.

How should I say this? I thought I was going to die!

In the three mile circuit, about half way my whole body went bone dry. I stopped sweating, my mouth felt like it was full of sand and my tongue felt like it was swelling up. My side started cramping and, as you can imagine, I started slowing down.

Bless his heart, there was another poolee who fell back with me and didn't leave me the entire time. He even helped me find a water fountain.

Needless to say, our recruiter was... disappointed.

Okay, angry is more like it.

On the way back the same poolee stayed next to me, talking to me, encouraging me the whole way. He even stayed with me during the walking-off period and to get a drink. I'm confident that he will make a FINE Marine as he truly took the "leave no one behind" to heart. No matter how irritated I'm sure he was with me he didn't show it even though others made comments along the lines of, "I wonder who's going to drop out of boot camp?" and the like.

I don't blame them for those comments or thoughts but I wasn't horribly affected by them either.

I have that determination to go and to succeed and I know that my run is something I need significant work on.

So, I'm getting to it and going to run at least three times a week. Here's hoping that nothing else happens that will interfere.

Training Through Injuries

In April I hurt my knees. Basically I overused them. Not only were they swelling and felt hot to the touch but a random bruise started forming over my left knee and it was then I decided to go and see a doctor.

I went to doctor of sports medicine and after a quick evaluation she told me I have perfectly healthy knees.

Phew.

She said that normally she would only recommend rest and a gentler exercise program but after hearing of my plans to leave for Marine Corps Boot Camp this fall she prescribed physical therapy to get me to a place where I can do all that the Marine Corps requires of me.

My first visit was almost two hours long and had to be one of the longest physical evaluations of my legs ever done.

The result: Yes, my knees are healthy, the therapist said. But.. they are weak. Also, according to my therapist, I am extremely flexible and to counter the flexibility I need strength, more so than average so that something doesn't get strained by being bent farther than it should.

For two weeks now I've been in physical therapy for my knees and my therapist has practically had to put a leash on me to keep me from running or doing too much and going too fast for my healing and strengthening process.

She assures me she will let me run when my knees are ready but I'm chomping at the bit and keep asking her if it's time for me to hit the trails.

So, to keep me from going nuts with anticipation she gave me permission to hit the pool as hard and as fast as I want.

Bless her heart.

I get to the pool and I don't even bother easing into anything. Immediately I dive in and swim as fast and as hard as I can to the other side where I do five-ten dips on the edge of the pool (a dip being a kind of push up on the side of the pool with your waist still in the water). Back I go to the other side of the pool where I get out and do ten-twenty squats.

I dive back in and off I go to the other side of the pool for more dips and then back again for another variation of leg exercises from water running (not as easy as you would think) or a variation or leg lifts and extensions using the water for resistance.

I keep my pace fast to keep my heart at a rate it would be at during running and I am happy to say that the exercise is starting to pay off.

My flexed-arm hang has started to improve and my therapist says the low impact exercise is doing great things for my legs and knees.

She still won't let me run but promises that after our next meeting (tomorrow) she will try to come up with a gradual running plan that will allow me to get back on the trail provided I promise to listen to my body (and my knees) and stop or slow down when I feel pain.

I have promised.

I've been worried that my lack of running will hurt my IST but those who know me have assured me that as long as I work on my strength training and keep it up in the pool that once I hit the trails again it will be a very short time before I'm blasting through the miles at a good clip.

I'm enjoying getting fit again and feeling the strength in my body continue to grow.

Flexed-Arm Hang Secrets (As Revealed By a Female Marine)

A female Marine once told me that the secret to the flexed-arm hang is singing the Marine Corps hymn.

I thought she was crazy but then she explained.

She said that if you count you will only psych yourself out, but if you hang on for dear life and sing the Marine Corps hymn and can make it through all three verses without stopping that you will max out your time for the hang.

I have taken her advice and just tonight I did 69 seconds on the flexed-arm hang. Only one second short of max. I also only got through two verses of the hymn.

Maybe it's just the motivation of singing the hymn. Maybe it's the mental distraction as you desperately try to remember the second and third verses while hanging on for dear life.

Either way, 69 seconds ain't bad.

Crunches: My Nemesis

According to the Marine Corps a crunch for me is literally a sit-up. I have a long torso and no matter how far down I try to hold my arms, in order for them to touch my thighs (the official Corps version of a crunch) I have to do a complete sit-up.

I had mentioned in my blog about my IST at MEPS that I only did 42 crunches despite my best efforts and despite knowing that I have done and can do more.

I was baffled.

My husband thought it might be a form issue and that we could play around with my body position while doing crunches and we decided to do that tonight.

I've been horribly sick this last week or so and that cold that I thought was a cold turned out to be a sinus infection that has kept me darned-near bed-ridden.

Today, feeling a little better, I decided I would try my first real exercise since I've sworn in.

Still coughing and weezing I got down on the floor and cranked out 59 sit-ups/crunches.

I was so darned irritated I could have spit.

My husband and I played around with my body position for a few minutes and I think we finally figured out the problem.

The advice that I have heard repeated so often is that one should scoot the butt closest to the ankles so that your arms are as close to your thighs as possible. The reasoning behind this is that the distance between your arms and your thighs will be shorter and therefor you won't have to raise your body off the ground as far to do a complete crunch.

However, a well-established technique to mastering sit-ups/crunches is to come half way up using the abdominal muscles and use the muscles of the thighs to pull the body the rest of the way up. This takes half of the strain off the abdominal muscles and allows you to do far more sit-ups or crunches than by using the abdomen alone.

Here is what I have discovered.

The closer you scoot the butt to the ankles the less your thigh muscles will be able to assist in the crunch and you are limiting all of your efforts to your abdomen alone and your number of crunches will drop.

Don't believe me? Get a chair, and lie on the floor beside it, putting your lower legs on the seat of the chair so that your upper legs are perpendicular to the floor start your crunches. You will notice that your leg muscles are almost useless to your crunches. See how many you can do compared to how many you can do when your feet are on the ground and your thighs can assist in your sit-up.

And therein was my problem. I was so "scootched" in that my legs couldn't help me and my crunch count plummeted.

The secret to the crunch is not just getting your butt as close to the ankles as possible but finding a happy medium between getting your butt close enough to your ankles to shorten the crunch but also back far enough to where your legs can still assist.

I intend to keep playing with my positioning as well as working on my crunches in general to where I can maximize my abdomen and my legs and get a good crunch count in.

Poolee Function #1

I've never been paintballing before... until today that is.

I never really saw the appeal of running around and shooting other people with paint while avoiding the same fate. While I've seen many people get obsessed with the sport (if it can be called such) I simply never saw the appeal.

Now, having both shot and been shot by paintballs I can say that, though fun, I still don't get all the hub-bub.

We met at the recruiter's office at 8:00 in the morning. While we waited for various other poolees to arrive and sort out money difficulties our recruiter had us all do a max set of pull-ups or max seconds on the flexed-arm hang for us gals.

It was freezing cold, windy, rainy and a generally yucky day to be doing anything and I was happy to have had the foresight to add an extra layer of thigh-high socks, a long-sleeve shirt under a t-shirt with a sweat-shirt over top. It also seemed to help quite a bit upon getting shot.

We arrived at the paintball place, payed and within minutes we were out on the course doing our first match.

I was on the blue team and playing against the reds and I couldn't help but think the entire time of the infamous Red vs Blue parody of the popular video game Halo. The entire time I was on the field I kept wanting to scream out, "SUCK IT, REDS!" But I didn't.

The first game was a version of capture the flag and I held back just watching what it was everyone was doing and getting a hang of the etiquette of this thing called paintball.

The match was over rather quickly as our team decimated the opposing Reds.

Eager to try my hand at this new thing I quickly dived into the next game by rushing into the field and even low crawling through mud and muck toward cover while attempting to lay down my own suppressing fire.

The gal behind me would later comment and tell me that I had "game." Whatever that was supposed to mean.

The Blues continued to triumph until a second, rather large group of poolees arrived, nearly twice the size of our group.

Our group, having been split in two to form the Red and Blue teams was now joined into one large Yellow team and all of the arriving poolees were made into the Green team.

They kicked our butts.

We retaliated with a vengeance.

Some of the more eager poolees arrived with paintball sniper rifles and full-auto guns and reloaders that could lay down a steady stream of paintballs. It's an odd sensation to hear someone scream, "SNIPER FIRE!" in regards to paintball but it happened. The rest of us had rental gear that was spotty, though I'm happy to say I got myself a pretty good gun.

My most memorable hit was to the back of my head. It was unfortunate and rather painful but livable. I had turned around to accept a refill of paintballs from someone else and got hit. Silly me.

As people started running out of paint we started trickling to the side and getting ready to leave. Because I have an over-developed trigger finger I found myself on the side lines for almost three whole games. I didn't mind. It was fun to watch the two teams battle it out.

In the midst of one game I lost interest and started milling around picking up other poolees trash and throwing it in the trash cans. It had started with just my table and the trash of poolees with us but as it progressed I went on to pick up trash from the ground and other surrounding tables.

One of the Staff Sergeants called my name and said, "If I could, I would recommend you for a NAM." That is, Navy Achievement Medal, for those who don't know.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"That's what I'm talking about," he said, rather loudly. "You see that, everyone," he gestured around to the other poolees standing about, "That is what you need to succeed in the United States Marine Corps: Initiative. Outstanding."

I smiled, "I just don't like mess."

I wasn't trying to be recognized or do anything to curry a favor. I just wanted to clean up the area and to get moving so I wouldn't freeze. It did feel good to be noticed for something good, however.

I will admit that I don't really fit with the other poolees. All of them are in high school or maybe their first year of college. Young, relatively care-free, their lives don't fit with my own. They could care less about kids and spouses, mortgages, health insurance, pediatricians, day cares, spousal work issues and utilities bills. They talk mostly of sports, grades, graduation parties and dates, things that haven't been a concern of mine for almost seven years. An attempt on my part to "fit in" with them would be juvenile and awkward and portray me as something I most certainly am not: desperate for their approval and acceptance. They are who they are. I am who I am. There needs to be no meeting in the middle.

No, I'm not better than them in any way, shape or form. Once at Boot Camp I'm sure that we will all be on that same level and find that equal camaraderie that binds us as a team, but in the mean time I am in a world very different than their own and they are in a world very different from mine.

Instead, I took a quick glance in my recruiters' directions for a sort of fit but decided against that course of action.

Because I have always found myself so comfortable around the Marine Corps and having a working knowledge of the Corps I have never had an issue connecting and talking to Marines. I can usually hold a good conversation with any Marine about Companies, Battalions, MOSs, bases, even deployments and weaponry. This time, however, I'm finding silence to be golden.

Just today I witnessed innocent flirting amongst the female poolees and the male poolees and even the recruiters. The image of a flirtatious female is one that I cannot afford and do not desire to create. I am a married woman of a few more years than my fellow female poolees. Many of the recruiters in charge of us are single men of the same or only a few more years than I. In another time and place I could be dating any one of them and no one would think anything of it.

Their returning the innocent flirts of a couple of seventeen and eighteen year-olds looks teasing and almost cute. Often times it just makes the girls look immature and silly. Everyone knows, however, there's nothing to it. However, even perceived interest in me looks like.. well.. interest.

In the interest of being professional and keeping themselves above question they tend to not banter with me, though I must say that I do not give them a chance to do such. While other gals may tease and coax a dialog out of the recruiters via provocation of one sort or another, I answer my questions as briskly as possible and seek no personal information. I am courteous but try to view them as professional Marine recruiters and not my friends. They, in turn, treat me with a detached sort of professionalism that I am grateful for.

I have noticed that a majority of the recruiters leave me be. I return the favor by not appearing to eager to get to know them. Other than the question or two about duty stations and MOSs, I keep my distance from them and let them do their job. They are polite but professionally distant from me and that's exactly as I would prefer it to be.

No blurring of lines. No room for false pretenses or assumptions. Straight business. I'm all for it.

I am rather alone in the world of Marine Corps poolee functions but I am not lonely. I am satisfied that this is right where I need to be.

Therefore, for one of the recruiters to point me out in any fashion was a bit of a surprise but a good one.

When we were done with the paintball stuff we went back to the office, did more pull-ups and flexed-arm hangs and I rushed off to get baby wipes and groceries and head home to a hungry baby and husband to feed.

This life is getting more interesting with every step I take.

PT, PT, PT

You go to any Marine Corps forum or website and there are loads and loads of poolees and wannabes who ask the same question in a million different forms: "What do I need to do to get fit for Boot Camp?"

I've never had to ask that question because the physicality of Boot Camp does not frighten or intimidate me.

I'm a tough broad.

I have a high pain tolerance, an unwillingness to quit (no matter what) and a gift for ignoring pain (sometimes to a harming extent). It takes more work for me to listen to my body and to slow down and do things carefully than it does for me to just plow ahead at full speed and not care about the lasting damage I am doing to my body. In the past I have pushed through incredible pain only to have it slow me down and frustrate me in the long run.

Thankfully, I am older and wiser now. With the guidance of my chiropractor and other structured programs I am working, daily, at getting myself physically ready for the day I set out to Boot Camp.

While I was in High School I was very physically fit. I was an endurance runner and could beat any boy in school in push ups. In college I could out endure anyone in a pool or even the ocean fighting waves and tides.

Getting married and having a kid and being lazy reduced me to not being able to do much without feeling winded and tired but I have always known I have what it takes to get back to the standard of physical fitness I once had. And so I have begun.

Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays I go to a class that was once called Boot Camp. The administration thought that the title was a bit too intimidating so they renamed it "Total Body Fitness." The change of name should not indicate a change in program, however. It is a grueling exercise program packed full of lungs, pushups, crunches, running, weight lifting, stair-running, and so much more, all set at a break-neck speed and injected with heavy cardio exercises. At the end of one hour I'm usually soaking in sweat from head to toe, panting like a dog and sucking down half gallons of water.

After outlining just one hour of class to my husband he assured me that if I keep this class up I will find Boot Camp to be physically easy.

But I don't stop there. I am, afterall, part fish. This trait was passed on to me by my lifeguard of a mother who shooed us kids to the pool as often as she could. I also took swimming in college and find the water to be as comfortable as a home as land.

After my fitness class I go for a swim and no matter how tired and sore my muscles I somehow find the endurance to do a few laps in a variety of different strokes.

Tuesdays and Thursdays are my down days filled with Yoga and a steam room. Yoga stretches and tones my often throbbing muscles and working on balance and breathing helps keep me calm, relaxed and focused. Yoga, though still an exercise, makes me feel like I've gotten a full-body massage. Of course the balance work also works the small muscles of my ankles, knees, hands, elbows and arms as well for healthy joints which helps for the next day when they all take a pounding.

Of course, spending a half hour in a steam room is just my excuse to indulge.

I like working out. I like challenging myself and finding myself do new things I couldn't do just a few classes ago. I greatly enjoy discovering my new physical strengths and testing them.

No, the physical aspect of the military does not scare or intimidate me. It will challenge me. It will push me. It will tire me. But it's nothing I haven't felt before. I look forward to it.

ASVAB, MEPS, Duck Walk

When I took the practice ASVAB at my recruiter's office back in October or 2009 I got a score of 67. I was told that was still above average and good but I was not happy with it. The area of most issue was the Arithmetic Reasoning (AR) which both surprised and frustrated me. I'm very good at math and have always loved it, but, for one, I haven't taken any sort of algebra since high school (MANY years ago) and I am so precise in my calculations and processes that it takes me way too long to do a simple problem which means I didn't complete all of the AR questions in the alloted time frame.

I went out and got the McGraw Hill ASVAB study guide and a book called Painless Word Problems.

I worked through the entire Word Problems book and also worked through the McGraw Hill study guide.

However, whenever I took the practice tests in the back of the ASVAB study book I still couldn't go fast enough to complete all of the AR portion which severely hurt my final scores.

So it's not really a huge surprise that when the test day rolled around I was very nervous and anxious. I also had way too much coffee and was hit very strongly with the realization that this was really and truly happening. My leaving for MEPS meant that it wasn't just talk any more and there was no backing out (at least not in my mind). It was also the first time since my son was born that I would be away from him for the night and when you heaped all of those things together I was more jittery than a bunny rabbit on caffeine.

I had no appetite and could barely finish a few chicken sticks for lunch.

When we arrived at the recruiter's office I felt ill. Looking at my son smile up at me and giggle was almost too much to bear and I was so close to saying, "I can't do this." I know myself well enough to know that once he was out of my sight I would be able to recover so my husband lingering around with him and chatting with the recruiter was agony. As much as I didn't want them to go I was silently thinking, "I have to get out of here NOW or I won't be able to do this."

I was very relieved when my recruiter ushered my husband and son out of the front door and said we'd take the back. My husband threw my bag at me and said, "You carry your own gear." I would have laughed more heartily were it not for the fact I was feeling dizzy so I kissed him and my son quickly and turned my back to go before I either threw up or fainted.

As I had predicted, as soon as they were out of sight I started to feel better and by the time we were in the car and heading to MEPS I was almost back to normal with only a few small twists in my gut.

DAY ONE: THE ASVAB

We arrived at the MEPS and my recruiter chatted it up with a few other recruiters while I checked in with my Driver's License and Social Security card. There was also a form I had to sign. They had me read a small booklet with the rules and emergency plan and then took fingerprints of my right and left index fingers and a photo of me. Next I was told to proceed to the testing area where a Sailor would get me started.

The testing room was just a room with a desk, a lot of computers and a hushed, library-like atmosphere with a number of people taking the test.

The Sailor verified my information, sat me down at a computer and said, "Good luck."

I started the ASVAB.

Before I knew it I was done with General Science (GS) and on to Arithmetic Reasoning (AR). I have always been the kind of person who is nervous until I'm actually doing whatever it is that I'm nervous about. Once I'm actually doing the act I see no point in being nervous and I muscle forward in confidence, sure that I will do my best. I didn't even hesitate to start the AR section and before I knew it I was done. I had finished all of the questions with time to spare which made relief sweep over me and the rest of the test was a breeze.

I flew through the Word Knowledge (WK) and Paragraph Comprehension (PC) and even found the Mathematics Knowledge (MK) to be easy. The Electronics Information (EL) part was fun and only the Auto & Shop Information (AS) section was a little out of my range of knowledge. I made some educated guesses and moved on to Mechanical Comprehension (MC) which I had no problem with. Assembling Objects (AO) was the last section which was rather fun; kind of like doing a puzzle but without being able to move the pieces.

It was all over so quickly and the Sailor was back to verify my information again and tell me to go out to reception and wait for my recruiter.

He arrived and off we went to the office to check my score and fill out more paperwork.

When we got to the office, he queued up his computer and said, "Well, you got an 86."

I said, "WHAT!"

He said, "Yeah, look," while turning the screen to where I could see my score.

Sure enough, there it was. My AFQT was 86 with a GT of 118 and an EL of 120+ and the rest just kind of floated away. I was very, very happy.

Then I sat there signing my name again and again and again until my hand hurt. I signed statements of understanding that I had not taken drugs, had no tattoos, was not involved in any gang or discriminatory group, was not a Consciencious objector. Then I had to sign paperwork stating I was not sexually harassed and understood the Marine Corps policy on sexual harassment, drugs, tattoos and discriminatory groups. Finally I signed paperwork regarding my time in service and job though it is subject to change in the next few weeks. I also signed my background check forms stating that I had not lied and was agreeing to let the FBI pick apart my past.

After all of that was done my recruiter put all of that paperwork into a sealed envelop with mine, my husband's and son's birth certificates, Social Security cards and marriage licenses and told me to give it all to my liaison the next day at the MEPS.

Off we went to the hotel where I was briefed on the rules of no drugs, no alcohol, stay on your floor, dinner goes till 10:00, you must be in your room at 10:00, this is when you'll get your wake-up call, breakfast is served here, bus leaves at 5:20, stuff.

I went back to my room, called my husband and was happy to hear that my son had taken my absence much better than I had taken his. He ate dinner well and was currently getting sleepy and my husband was just about to put him to sleep. When I got off the phone with him I called my parents and gave them the update then grabbed my meal voucher for a much needed dinner. I was starved.

Just about the time I was leaving my room I remembered that there was a mandatory meeting for the MEPS applicants and I hurried to the room, glad that I was on time. There I met the only other female who would be my room mate.

After the meeting I went to dinner and had a large and tasty cheeseburger. My room mate came in shortly after I ordered and we ate together and talked about our chosen branches of service, why we wanted to serve and the like.

By the time I got back to my room it was about 9:00 and I was quick to call my husband to tell him goodnight and ask about his plans to come and pick me up at the MEPS the next day. I brushed my teeth, washed my face and slipped into bed where I lay wide awake for the next four hours. Even when I did manage to find I had fallen asleep, something as small as the heater kicking on would send my eyes shooting open where I would remain awake for another ungodly amount of time.

DAY TWO: MEPS

Four in the morning comes all too quickly when you can't sleep and before you know it the phone was ringing.

I took a quick shower, brushed my teeth and the phone rang to tell us that there had been flooding in some of the streets and we needed to hurry because the bus was leaving earlier than usual to take another route to the MEPS.

My room mate and I rushed down stairs where we stuffed ourselves with eggs, bacon and orange juice while the bus driver stood watch at the door and then we were on the bus and heading to MEPS.

The term "Hurry Up and Wait" is EXACTLY what MEPS is all about. We hurried into a line in front of the building only to wait for our turn to pass our bags through the screener and walk through a metal detector. We hurried into formation only to wait through a long and boring briefing about darned-near every room in the building and the rules such as no cell phones, no gum, no hands in pockets, no lying, go here, then there, then back here again, address everyone appropriately, don't be cute, have a nice day.

We hurried through role call and to our selected service liaison's office where the five of us who were joining the Marines were told the exact same things as in our original briefing only this time with many more expletives provided by our liaison, an ornery Staff Sergeant with the shortest strawberry blond hair you can imagine and sharp blue eyes that he was deliberate about boring into each and every one of us.

Then we hurried over to medical where we waited our turn to have our eyesight, ears, blood, urine and bodies checked from head to stinky toe.

I'm happy to report that I am not color blind, have better than average near sightedness in my right eye and perfect hearing.

I'm also not pregnant.

It was completely useless to be first in line because you still had to wait for everyone else to complete the process before you could move on anyway. Wether you were first, middle or last made no difference, you hurried and waited just as long as everyone else.

Finally it was time for me and the other gal to do our physical portion which was hilarious and kind of fun. We got stuck in a room by ourselves and told to strip down to our underwear. First they took our height and weight and I was irritated to find I am still four pounds underweight though my recruiter tells me he is sure to get me a waiver.

After that we had to wait for the doctor to come in and while we waited we read the motions off the board and were attempting to do them on our own. When the doctor and the nurse arrived we were both laughing and having a good time. We did all the funky movements and, yes, the duck walk does kind of stick with you.

Next we had to go individually into an exam room where the doctor looked us over head to toe. Mostly he asked me about my weight and pregnancy and then I was told to hurry and get dressed and wait in the reception area.

I hurried, I waited.

While waiting I took a peak at the doctor's notes and I was happy to see that he specifically noted I did not have an eating disorder, or allergy to any food and was healthy and normal.

Next it was time to go back to our liaison's offices and the five of us wannabe Marines hurried over there only to be colorfully told to sit down and wait. We hurried. We waited some more.

While we were waiting we noticed the other applicants chatting and laughing with their service liaisons while the five of us sat stick straight and silently outside of the Marine Corps office like we were waiting for the door to explode and that red-blond SSgt to come out guns blazing.

The other gal came out of her liaison office and said, "He told me to go to lunch. Want to come?"

I said, "My guy told me to sit here so I'm staying."

It was now 10:30 and the cafeteria was open, our stomachs were growling and while everyone else was heading to lunch the five of us sat there like little stone statues.

An hour rolled by and we didn't move.

Finally, the head guy who had initially briefed us upon entering came over and asked if any of us had eaten. We told him we hadn't and he stuck his head in the Marine Corps liaison's office, then came out and told us to go eat. We practically tripped over each other on our way to the cafeteria.

We ate fast and were back to the liaisons office where, FINALLY, the first one was called in.

Another forty-five minutes and I was called to the front desk to meet my husband and son. I was so happy to see both of them but couldn't stay to chat as I was the only one left to be seen by my liaison.

I went back to his office and sat there just as he brought another applicant out of his office.

"Did you do your pull-ups at your recruiter's office?" he asked the kid.

"Yes, Sir," the boy answered.

"Well, I don't give a [colorful-phrase] what you say you did there. You are going to do them for me, here. Get on my pull-up bar."

The boy hurried over to the red pull-up bar with "MARINES" stenciled all over it and started his pull-ups while the liaison counted them out.

I winced.

My prior recruiter had told me that there would be no strength testing at MEPS and to attempt to conserve my weight for the weigh-in I was told not to work out until after MEPS so I didn't loose any precious ounces. Outside of doing my daily Yoga I have not been working out, so I was a bit nervous as to what I knew was coming.

Sure enough, after the boy dropped from the bar, the SSgt turned to me and said, "You! Did you do your flexed-arm hang?"

"No, Sir."

"Get on my bar."

Because I'm shorter than most he had to give me a boost up to the bar where I held on for dear life as he timed me on his watch.

I was very surprised to here the words, "You're doing good," come out of his mouth and I did 32 pathetic seconds before I dropped to the floor.

Wordlessly he disappeared back into his office and because I was not told to follow I sat back in the waiting area and waited some more.

Another ten minutes went by and he finally called me in to go over my paperwork.

We got to the drug portion and I knew what was going to happen.

"Have you ever taken any drugs?"

"No, Sir."

"Abused any prescription drugs?"

"No, Sir."

He looked me in the face doubtfully. "Never a hit from marijuana? Not a night at a party where you were having a little too much fun..."

"No, Sir."

"You're sure, because it doesn't necessarily disqualify you. You lie to me, however, and I find out about it and you will be disqualified and can be prosecuted for fraudulent enlistment. So, I'm going to ask again, ANY drugs?"

"No, Sir."

"Have you ever gotten high off of anything?"

"No, Sir."

He doesn't know that growing up I never so much as touched the stuff. Sure, I had the same opportunities as others to do drugs but they scared me to death. After hearing one girl talk about being date raped and having a bad trip where she was hallucinating worms on the walls and waking up in rooms she couldn't recognize without her clothes as a result of getting high I was scared straight and never so much as wanted to look at the stuff. I am a pure drug virgin and plan on dying that way.

"I bet you don't have many people who can say they've never touched drugs," I said.

"Everyone says it," he said, a touch of annoyance in his voice, "I just don't believe it."

"I suppose that's true," I said. "People don't believe me when I say I've never touched drugs but I haven't. And I don't care if they believe me or not. I know what I know and it's that I've never done any kind of drugs."

He rolled his eyes and carried on with the paperwork, making notes as we went.

When I was done he gave me my Service Record Book (SRB) and told me to give it to my recruiter and ordered me out of his office.

After that I checked out and walked out of the MEPS into fresh air, happy to see my husband sitting in the car with our son in his lap, his head sticking out of the window and pointing at me.

We had to go over to the recruiter's office and give him my SRB and my husband had to sign some stuff indicating that he is mentally, physically and financially able to take care of our son while I'm in training.

After that he took me out to dinner and it was time to go home.

All in all it was a boring, long process.

I would never be convinced that it is hard or bad or humiliating, etc. I suppose that after giving birth and having at least twelve doctors and nurses seeing me naked, screaming and sweaty, having another doctor and nurse and girl see me in my underwear while I duck walk around the room is nothing.

Next I have to get my college transcripts, which I requested this morning, and when all of the blood work and initial background check info comes back I will swear in and sign my Department of Defense (DoD) contract and be sworn in to the DEP.

I'm told this should all be done before April 1 and right now I have my choice between an August ship date and an October one.

We'll see, but I'm wanting to take the August one.

Till then, it's just more waiting.

Physical Training

At one point in time I was a very fit young woman. I could do more push-ups than any boy in my high school and could out last anyone on a run. I was proud of my body and how well it worked for me.

While my husband was in the Marine Corps I took up running again. The local recruiter's office used the running trail by our home and I cheerfully sailed past that "USMC 1.5 MILES" written in red across the pavement. I liked being fit and healthy.

Then I got pregnant.

Some women gain a lot of weight. I lost it all.

Prior to getting pregnant I was a healthy 110 lbs. Six weeks post partum I dropped to a frightening 96 and kept going. I happily sat around on my butt doing nothing but eating and was able to maintain a 95 lbs average. When I decided to get back into shape and started exercising, however, the scale warned me off by giving me numbers like 92.0.

Off to the doctor I went and he's assured me that the best thing for me is exercise combined with loads and loads for protein and calories. He assures me that not only will I put on muscle weight but I'll have more energy and be more healthy. He promises nothing but agony in the beginning, however.

Now I'm back to PTing and scarfing down Ensure Plus protein shakes and loading up on eggs, cheese and milk.

I must say I'm pathetically ashamed of myself that I can only do thirty-three seconds on the flexed-arm hang. I am struggling to do just five push-ups whereas I once would push out twenty-nine without breaking a sweat. I can't even do a single pull up from dead hang and the 1/2 mile that I ran tonight left me gasping for air. Oh for the days when I could mile after mile with ease.

I am not discouraged. Even if I weren't set on joining the Marines this would still be good for me. Lord knows we Americans could all use a little more physical activity.

It's also a time for me to be alone and think.

In the last year I've been flanked by either my husband or my son or both and while I love them dearly sometimes I feel I need a little me-maintenance time; a few minutes to have some space and breathe.

I'll admit that these last few days have seen me distancing myself from both my husband and my son. I am focused and distracted, almost obsessed and absent-minded from my wifely and motherly duties.

I have felt frustrated by the routine of dishes, diapers, detergent and the dogma of dutiful dependent.

Tomorrow I will go and run and come back to kiss my husband good morning and snuggle my son. Tomorrow it will be back to wife and mother with a goal because there are only so many months, weeks, days, hours left until I leave my family to fulfill my dream. It would be a tragedy, irresponsible and down-right wrong if I neglected them in the pursuit of my goals when I believe I am doing this for them as well.