Training the Best

So April 25th was our final physical fitness test. Everybody was dreading it because we really haven't had a chance to train for the PFT here. Our time is very limited, we have a lot of work to do outside of the regular work hours, so once that is done all you want to do is sleep. Add on the abuse your body takes during FEXes and you are one broken down lieutenant. I would lose between 5 and 10 pounds on each FEX. You are on the move all the time, wearing a heavy load, attacking and patroling. There is little time to eat.

I was not going to light the world on fire with my PFT score, but I was not really worried about it. I felt like I could score a 235 to 240, the goal for lieutenants being a 225. That is the threshold for a first class score, which all officers are expected to attain. The max is 300, but I've never been able to max a PFT. Nonetheless, I felt pretty good. And then things got bad.

It started with some nausea, back pain, and sweating during our family day on Friday. Then it developed into full blown vomiting, diarrhea, fever, and all over aches and pains. This continued for two solid days, without relief. I was really sweating the PFT, but I thought I could recover in time. I was wrong.

I woke up on Monday morning still feeling bad, but I did not want to go to sick call again. There is a stigma with going to sick call, a perception of weakness. I realize this is retarded, but in military service perception is reality. I knew that if I went to sick call I would be seen as weak, a "sick bay commando" as we call those who hang out in sick bay everytime there is a physical event. I also thought I could tough out the PFT, bring something up from deep down and push through the pain.

What I failed to account for was how dehydrated I was. I had not managed to take on any fluids all weekend and was very dehydrated. I did ok on the pull-ups, but the problems started with the situps. I never have trouble getting the maximum of 100, but I barely made it this time. I wasn't feeling good for the run.

I started the run in good shape and I thought I would make it. I made it to the halfway point in 10 min and 30 sec. That's not bad, that is on pace for a 21 min. three miles which would have been pretty damn good. About 2 miles into the 3 mile run, I just ran out of gas. My legs felt weak and my head really started to hurt. The pack started to pull away from me and I could feel myself slowing down. I could hear my platoon commander behind me yelling at the last place girl and I was dreading him catching me. I wanted the finish to be closer, I could see it, but it just didn't seem to be coming any closer. I tried to pull something out, but I just didn't have any more. When I crossed the finish line at 23:53, I almost threw up. I only wound up beating one guy and one girl to the finish line in my platoon, which was very disheartening.

My score wound up being a 224, one point away from a first class. Out of a company of 245 I was one of only 4 to not get a first class. The honest truth is that my pull-ups hurt me the most, they are worth 5 points a peice, a max of 100pts, and I only got 12. My lack of preparation in the previous six months put me in danger of failing and the sickness pulled me down to that level.

I had to stand in front of my platoon commander with the two other guys in our platoon who also didn't get a first class score and take a tounge lashing. I wanted to say that I was sick, but I hate to give excuses, they don't change anything. Besides, like I said above, if I was in better shape I would have still gotten a firts class score despite the sickness.