The Epidemic of Fat

I won't beat around the bush here. I absolutely despise fat people. I'm not talking the bit of baby fat or a small beer gut or just haven't got out to exercise in a bit folks. I'm talking the ginormous hippos that waddle themselves throughout our society. Frankly, as an American, it pisses me off. And I'm not going to use any PC crap. No "overweight" or "obese". They are FAT.

I met a 101 year old man today who was walking and just waiting for his son to come push him around in a wheelchair. That is outstanding. He more than deserves to have a wheelchair and frankly, not have to walk anywhere the rest of his life, however long that may be.

In ugly contrast, while at the grocery store, this grossly overweight woman was driving around in the motorized cart, throwing lard chips and fat biscuits in her little basket and taking up the whole aisle. To be honest, I don't know if she was putting lard chips in her cart, mostly because I couldn't see past her humongous body.

I don't believe that fat people should be allowed to use the motorized carts at all. Or use handicapped spots, or have any benefits/special treatment whatsoever. The purpose of the motorized carts is so old feeble people and those with a handicap can get around. Fat people don't have a handicap. They have an unhealthy lifestyle which most likely includes being lazy and not eating correctly. That is not a handicap. That is your own fault and doesn't warrant any special treatment. They should make you park in the back of the parking lot so you have to walk further and give you a smaller cart so you can't fill it with so many donuts and cupcakes. If you don't think you can make it all the way around the store, you best make a decision on what food is most important and start there. Here's a hint: It's not the cupcakes.

So why did I say "as an American"? I'm sick of the downward spiral we are in. We used to be at the forefront of technology and quality. We were hard workers who built dams and roads and skyscrapers. Now everything is imported. Foreign companies do our building. Americans are lazy and happy to take a handout without any shame. Could you imagine how the forefathers would react to the "too big to fail" bull that was fed to the public? Capitalism is about the freedom to prosper by creating the better service, the better product, the next best thing. Not today. It's about cutting corners and playing politics. No wonder we are in an "economic slump". We can't do anything for ourselves. God bless the farmers and factory workers and anyone who still works hard to keep America great.

Wait....so how does that last paragraph translate to hating fat people? It's the fact that they can choose to be different. To exercise, to eat right. You don't have to have money. Get up in the morning and walk or do cardio or do anything. It's free. It's a choice. Throw out your deep fryer. Eat less calories. IT'S A CHOICE. I don't care about "genetics," or any other cop out reason. Fix yourself. Fix America! Build better products. Invest in science and technology development. Let crappy businesses fail, no matter how big! And for the love of God, get off your fat ass and do something about it.

As a parting word...
It makes me sad and angry to see fat people with fat children. Don't screw them in life because you can't be a good parent and keep them healthy. You are perpetuating the problem.

Am I venting? Absolutely. America has a lot of problems, and this is one that we can fix as individuals. Taking personal responsibility is the first step.

Days 2 and 3

Day 2

After being dead tired from day one, nothing on day two could possibly break my spirit. I wake up at 0445. We do physical training (PT) for one hour. In the innate style that is the 101st Airborne Division, we do 101 (or more) of each exercise. We form up for the first formation of the day and they spread us out and then run us through stretches before we begin to exercise. There are instructors in front of us and some behind us. This doesn't bode well.

The first black hat has us do 101 overhead arm claps (pretty much their favorite). He then has us do an "about face," or "turn around" for you civilians. Oh look! Another black hat ready to go. Next exercise: flutter kicks (a close second favorite, and the bane of my existence). I hate flutter kicks. Flutter kicks and ruck marching. And I would ruck march to Miami rather than do flutter kicks all day. We stop after the magic number and we get about 10 seconds to drink water. Then we turn around again. See a pattern here? Another black hat, another exercise. For an hour. Arms, shoulders, thighs...all rubber. Once we finish and are released, I have to find somewhere to shower.Plan A: Go home, shower/change/eat
-takes too long for travel....probably won't get food (I like food!)
Plan B: Go to work and use shower
-have to split time with lots of others using two showers....
Plan C: Go to the pool and use shower there
-close, many showers, not many people so early
Obviously, plan C was the way to go, and throughout the course, I used this option as much as possible.
Clean and happy, just sore I return for the second day of classes.

We go through beginning Pathfinder instruction, which is basically how to set up a landing zone for rotary aircraft, and the math involved depending on the aircraft and/or sling load. I won't bore you with the details, but it's actually pretty cool. There is an entire school for training Pathfinders, and from what I've heard, it's math heavy and very hard.

About lunch time, the black hats inform us that the orientation Blackhawk (UH-60L) flight has been cancelled due to weather, so we will be released early today. Awesome!

Before we leave, they go over hand and arm signals necessary to bring in a helicopter and tell it to land, take off, drop sling load, etc. Oh, by the way, there is a hands-on test tomorrow over 10 of the 16 hand and arm signals. That we have to pass or fail out of the course. We were shown once. One time. Uno.

Some of us get together with a Captain that graduated in the last class to help us study. We actually stood in a circle around him, closed our eyes, and had him call out the hand and arm signals for us to perform, which is how the test will be conducted as well. He would critique us and throw curve balls at us ("take off to the 6 o'clock", which is not a real signal...a helicopter never takes off backwards). It helped immensely.

After I left, I changed and then went to O'Charley's for dinner. I needed a good steak to replenish some energy, and I took the time to study. I must have looked like a crazy person repeating how much a UH-60L can lift (9,000lbs) or what the OH-58 is primarily used for (observation and close air support). Even practicing hand and arm signals, not full on in the aisle, but still in the booth. Either way, the steak was great. Test first thing tomorrow.

Day 3

0400 wake up.

We start the test about 0600 or so. It's multiple choice, and with all the studying I did, surprisingly easy. It actually worried me how quickly I seemed to finish. After you finish, you can go fill your canteen and go to the bathroom and then come back and put your head down on the table. Don't fall asleep! Put your head down, close your eyes, but don't fall asleep. Not easy.

Next we move out in groups of about 6 students to one instructor for the hands on hand and arm signals test. The black had goes through ten of them, and sure enough, "takeoff to the 6 o'clock" comes up. You have to just stand there and not move at all. I max the test! Positive five points for me.

By now, it's about 1000 or so, and we're starving. There's supposed to be MREs there for us for lunch, but somehow there was a mix-up and there are none. Grumbling begins. Note here that 98% of the class is college junior ROTC cadets.

It's hot now. About 94 and high humidity, of course. We move up to where the black hats have sling loads set out for training and so we can closely examine them to see what "right" looks like. Our next two tests are the paper sling load test and the dreaded hands on sling load test. The paper is the standard multiple choice test, but the hands on is madness. You have a pre-staged load; a HMMWV, fuel blivets, A22 cargo bag, or the cargo net. On each load, you have two minutes to find four deficiencies. Imagine your car strapped up, taped up, and tied up; both interior and exterior, and you have to ensure that every single aspect is correct. In two minutes. More on that later.

During this move to the sling load area, we didn't drop our gear and get set in formation quick enough. By we, I mean the cadets. I try really hard not to think less of them, as I was one of them not all that long ago, but by day freaking three they are starting to wear on me. There is a sense of entitlement and no sense of urgency. Back to formation. Even as the black hats start to count down from ten, students still aren't ready. It's not hard. Drop your stuff, make it dress right dress (in a row, all the same) and stand at attention. Even when the black hat hits zero, people (cadets) are still moving. Here's a hint. Regardless of what your gear looks like, when the instructor hits "zero", STOP MOVING. Be at attention and don't move. Don't blink. Hold your breath. Why would you draw attention to yourself? Chances are, they won't even see your gear unless you're in the first row. Of course, the black hat in charge is not happy. Pissed is probably more accurate. Flaming rage of Hades himself after you hooked up with his daughter in his prize chariot. He tells us to run around the 400 yard track (in a nice calm voice), and that you don't want to come back last.

Now, we have to carry the stupid one quart canteen in the leg pocket of our pants, so as we take off, it just serves to slam continuously against your thigh. So as our stampede heads around the track, I don't try to be first, just not last. Did I mention it's flippin' hot and humid and we're running in boots and full uniform? This sucks. Not to mention I had just drank half a canteen and now it is sloshing uncomfortably in my stomach. We get back to our gear and attempt to fall in. I say attempt because, unfathomably, people still can't seem to just get in place and stop moving. I can't explain how easy this is or how much I wanted to strangle some people. Not to worry, the countdown begins again. 10...9...8...

*Sigh* Did we not learn our lesson? We don't make it. The instructor kindly asks us to do another lap. And make sure we are yelling "Air Assault" every time our left foot hits the ground. That is not easy when you're struggling for breath, and every breath is loaded with humidity. Again, don't be last, and again, the canteen slams dents into my leg. If anyone saw my leg later, they probably would think I owe someone money and they took a bat to my knee. Oh, the blisters people had from the ruck march are screaming now, if not already burst.

Slung fuel blivets

Slung HMMWV

Thankfully, we don't have to run a third time, which I firmly believe is because our training was on a timeline, not because anyone did any better at getting in formation.

A22 Cargo Bag

Cargo Net

Luckily, not much else happens except some hands on training for each sling load we will be tested on. When we get back, I have the cadets huddle up and do my best give a quick counseling. Basically, it covered two things. One, use some common sense. Understand the intent and reach that every time, for example, formations. Two, don't complain. So there wasn't one MRE this morning. Why would you go running to an instructor and complain? In battle and in life, you don't always get what you want. You function with what you have. Plus, the leadership of the class (me being one of them) had already asked! When you complain in a school like that, it only serves to make life more difficult. The instructor isn't going to go, "oh, I'm sorry, let me get that for you", he's going to go "oh, I'm sorry, let me show you what REALLY sucks" and then proceed to smoke everyone and STILL not give you food. I don't know if they listened or not.

Either way, the day's over.

Day 1 (For Real!)

Well, it's been a few days....well, weeks, since I've posted last. So for all one of you that have been waiting patiently to hear all about the rest of my Air Assault School, here you go....finally.




DAY 1


I have to be up at 0200 (2am for you civilian types). Even after the Day zero craziness and being dead tired...it was hard to fall asleep before 2000 (8pm). If you're a math whiz, that means no more than six hours of sleep.

Now, I love my wife, and love to hear from her. HOWEVER, when my phone vibrates nearly off my side table, waking me up in sheer panic, it kind of, well, sucks. And that's on a normal day. Today, it is compounded by the fact that the when the text message hits my phone, it's 0130. Once my heart rate slows down to subsonic, I, well, want to throw the phone against the wall. No offense to Allison. That extra half hour would have been welcomed.

Regardless, I'm up now. I eat some oatmeal, powder down my feet, and head out to post. There's no one on the roads at 0300 except cops and drunk drivers, so I try to avoid both. I have the radio on, and the jockey comes on with this report, which I will paraphrase:
"It's going to be blazing today folks, 98 degrees and high humidity....dangerous heat. A good day to stay inside!"
My truck thermometer reads 85 degrees. At 3am. Soak that in for a minute. 3am. Great.

The Army has categories for heat which dictate the amount of hard work vs rest that Soldiers are supposed to do for safety reasons. Black, or heat category 5 (HeatCat5), is as bad as it gets. It's already heatcat5 when we form up for the pending ruck march. They tell us to roll up our sleeves and pant legs to help let the heat escape. We still have on our kevlar helmets, so all the heat gets trapped around our head. I'm looking forward to this less and less. Who am I kidding? I never looked forward to this. I HATE ruck marches. I can walk fine. I mostly just get bored. I half joined the Transportation Corps so I wouldn't HAVE to carry my gear. I can throw it on a truck and drive it there. I'm not even kidding. It seriously was a reason.

It's "only" six miles. We have an hour and a half. It is not a walk. You have to run at least part of it. By run, I mean some kind of straight leg shuffle so the ruck doesn't bounce up and down on your back. I'm already sweating. Profusely. We haven't even moved to the starting line. I stopped by a truck and marked my territory on its tire. Time to move out.

< This is what I looked like.




This is what I felt like. >



We take off when they say go.
Now....we have been told all day yesterday that the course was flat and easy going. They lied. It wasn't ridiculously steep hills, but rather a combination of mind ******* that serves to drive your morale into the ground.

Issue One: Slow, Rolling Hills This means hills that have a long upslope, but at such a shallow angle that the downslope doesn't have any foreseeable mental or physical benefit.

This SUCKS

Issue Two: Gravel Those pesky little broken rocks roll ankles, reduce traction, get stuck in treads, and basically frustrate anyone who has to walk on them for long distances

Issue Three: Curving route to turn around/finish Easily the worst of the three. It's dark, so the flood lights at the turn around point can be seen from miles away. It never gets closer. Remember how the lines at the amusement park wind back and forth, back and forth, and you slowly step forward like cattle in a chute? Yeah...just when you think that over this hill is the end....the road takes a right turn and you've got another mile to go. Oh, and when you get there....turn around and go back to the start. You're only halfway done.

So close, but soooooo far away...

By the way, we are carrying an 8lb dummy rifle (rubber, for training, also called a "rubber duck") and our 1 quart canteen. At the turn around point and at the turn around, you have to turn it upside down over your head to make sure you are drinking all your water (so you don't die of dehydration...how nice).

I've made it to the turn around point. I'm hot. Extremely hot. I'm sweating like you wouldn't believe. I take a quick knee to fill my canteen and contemplate not getting up. It's only been three miles! Really? I feel like I've been running a marathon in a volcano with a truck on my back.

I've been running intervals and down most hills. There are chemlites set out in an alternating pattern, red/green along the road to keep you on the path in the pitch dark. I run from one red to the next, then walk to the next red. My mouth and lips are dry, even if I drink water. Not a good sign. Dehydration is right around the corner.

As I start the last three mile trek back to the finish, bad thoughts enter my head.
"If I just pass out now, it can all be over"
"If I break my leg, I can stop walking"
"Is a heat injury all that bad?"
"Maybe I should have been a math major"
"I wonder if I would look good in a tutu?"

Scary, I know.

You what is really scary? Hearing people yell "MEDIC!!" up and down the route and seeing people literally falling by the wayside. Don't worry, the instructors and medics are all over the course, because this apparently happens all the time and they are experienced. None of us stop, because if we do, one, we may not start again, and two, we may miss the time limit!

As I round the last corner, it is a slight upslope and turn towards the finish line. A big timer is at the end, so you can see where you're at, finally. We aren't allowed to have watches or cell phones or any type of device to pace ourselves. You just go as fast as you can and hope for the best. As I round the last turn, the black hats at the finish are yelling to hurry up and counting down. I'm running out of time. With a surge of what I can only imagine is pure will power, as my body had given up on me at least a mile back, I run (in reality, a sad shuffle, but not a walk) up the hill and to the finish. Probably about a hundred yards or so. Remember earlier when I said your canteen had to be empty? Yeah, at the finish to. So, out of breath from running, dead on my feet, and time counting down, I'm chugging warm water, about two cups or so, as I cross the finish line, holding the canteen over my head and yelling my roster number. "Three!!!" "Three!!!" "Did you get me down?! Roster Three!!" Remember we had 1.5 hours to finish. I came in at 1:59:40. That's right, twenty seconds to spare. Thirty-six people miss the time. You aren't dropped from the course, but you get an automatic -20 points.

I am in physical pain. My body is shutting down, and I know it. I will never be able to describe how bad I was feeling physically, and emotionally/mentally overjoyed at the same time. I've never felt so weak. The event isn't over yet. There is a detailed packing list layout of all the stuff in our rucksack. Negative points given here are hard to overcome, especially if you've missed the time on the ruck march.

Included is a full canteen. I've dropped my ruck to the ground and sat on the ground. I know I need water, desperately, but it is so far away. I'm not even sure I can stand back up. I slowly stand up after about twenty minutes and stumble to the water jugs. I fill my canteen and head back to my ruck. I don't dare drink any, because the canteen has to be full.

I'm not worried about the inspection, because I have packed and repacked and checked and rechecked everything before we started. As expected, I have no issues. My hat, called a "soft cap", is a little worn, and since NOTHING else was wrong, I get docked ten points for it being "faded". Ludicrous.

We move to the buses, and then to the classroom, which is ice cold with air conditioning. We are all soaked with sweat. I feel like I jumped in a lake and then ran into an Arctic winter. I'm shivering. All of us are freezing! We're dead tired, but we dig in to the Air Assault handbook, starting with basic rotary aircraft and lifting capabilities. Every time we go on break for 10 minutes, we sweat again. Then we go back into the cold classroom. I'm going to get pneumonia for sure.

We find out later that it reached 103 degrees outside, with a heat index of 115 degrees. But at least the day is over. One more classroom day and then our first big test. Right now, a shower. Food. Ibuprofen. and Sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.

After this being so bad over only six miles, am I going to be able to do this again? Twice?! There is the culminating event that is the same course, twice, to make it 12 miles. Oh boy.