The Amazing Race

No, I’m not talking about the show. I haven’t been able to see the show since I got here to Kuwait. I’m talking about the race I entered today, 12 November.

As I said in an earlier post, I want to run a triathlon before I turn 32 in July 2006. Well, what better way to get prepared for it, besides training for it, than to race? So, I told myself and promised my wife that I would enter every race 10 miles and under. I’m not expecting to win much, if at all, but the competition would do me very good.

I never ran track or any such sport in high school or college or anywhere else. The only reason I know anything about track events is because we had a track team in high school, and because of TV. I’m not familiar with the events or even if there are any rules to these types of sports. I know the distances, though, so at least that’s a start. I know that 400 meters is once around the track, or a quarter mile. If you are not used to it, the quarter mile is a tough nut to crack. It’s hard to run, especially on a track.

So, wouldn’t you know it, less than one week after arriving here, there’s a track meet. Not just a race, like running down the road through the post. A full-blown track meet. A man swears to his own hurt, right? So, I was obligated to run in this thing. I asked my First Sergeant to sign me up for the longest event they had, which I figured would be the 1 mile run. There is no way I could run the 100 or the 400 or any of those other quick events. I’m not going to take part in a relay, either. I’m simply not fast enough in short distances. Some people are just built that way.

The day of the race came, and wouldn’t you know it, I had to work late. The race started at 1800. I didn’t get off until after 1700. Now, the camp is very small, but it far too big to get anywhere quickly on foot. I wanted to catch a shuttle, so I started walking. The shuttles are supposed to run every 15 minutes or less. Where I left work and where I live is about 1 ¼ miles. At a quick pace, I can cover that in about 15 minutes, if the ground is good. But, alas, the ground is only good for the first half mile. After that, it becomes rocky and sandy, the perfect combination for slower walking and the possibility of injury if one is not careful. I figured I could walk until a shuttle comes and then catch the shuttle the rest of the way.

The shuttle never came. I walked all the way to my barracks, for about 20 minutes and never saw a single shuttle. By the time I got to my locker, I was sweating and I still had to change and go back to the track! I changed and headed back out the road. Still no shuttles. By this time, I only had about 10 minutes left to get there. I wasn’t thrilled about running the race anyway. I knew I wouldn’t run as fast as the folks who were there because they thought they could win. By this time, I’m getting the “Well, maybe…” thoughts in my head. “Well, maybe it would be okay if I missed this one. I did have to work late after all.” “Well, maybe it’s for the best. I’m kinda tired from that long walk.” You know the drill.

By the time I got to the second stop, the shuttle picked me up. It’s not a fast shuttle, but it’s faster and a lot less frustrating than walking.

I got to the track and get off the bus at exactly 1800. What do I hear? “On your mark! Get set! Go!” Another case of the “Well, maybe…” But, I thought I would at least see what was going on. I worked my way around to the other side of the track and waited until the race was finished. It was over in about 5:30. That’s one mile, mind you. Almost immediately after the race concluded, they announced that if anyone wanted to race in the final heat, head to the infield of the track! Saved!

I talked to the race coordinators and they hemmed and hawed about letting me race. I was a late entrant (My First Sergeant didn’t sign me up after all) and they already had five competitors and only five lanes. So, I asked several times, simply explaining that all I wanted to do was compete and that I didn’t expect to win. They conceded and let me in the race, but not as an actual competitor. I could run, but basically only under the condition that I didn’t win, which I knew I wouldn’t anyway. So, I made my way to the track.

And then they told me I couldn’t race. They told me that if I even finished the first lap ahead of any of the competitors, it would mess up the timing (I don’t know how) and it would be bad for the race. I assured them that if any of the competitors were going to run any of the laps in 1:30 or under, it wouldn’t be a problem. I again explained to them that I simply wanted to race. They thought about it and agreed. For the final time.

What struck me as the most odd is how friendly the racers were. They all had a front row seat to this spectacle and when I was finally given permission to race, albeit behind one of the racers instead of next to them, they were all quite happy, actually. They were very supportive, said I had a lot of courage and just told me to have fun that it wasn’t all about the winning. I guess it was easy for them to say that because they were going to be the ones that were doing the winning, but whatever. But all of them gave me high-fives and hand shakes and a very warm welcome. I think this helped me relax and settle down a lot.

And we’re off! The race itself was uneventful. I ran the first two laps in 1:40 each. I don’t remember what my third lap was, but I finished with a time of 7:15, which is not altogether bad (1:48 per lap average; my third lap must have been terrible, like 2:00 or something) for a non-runner like me. Sure, it’s not earth-shattering, but it’s about a minute faster than what I thought I might do. And, only the fastest guy lapped me, and then only on the final turn. The others had no chance of lapping me. And I actually did come close to overtaking the last guy in the second lap. He was within a few meters, but the third lap has always been my worst for some reason, so he was able to pull ahead (or I just fell behind).

One thing I did notice is that the crowd cheered for me just as much as they cheered for the guy that won. They all pulled for me and yelled things like, “Come on gray!” (I was wearing my gray Army PT shirt.) and “You can do it! Stretch it out!” I had never experienced that kind of thing before. It was a small crowd, but it made me feel very good about myself and those around me. I can see how major sports figures can get addicted to the cheering of the crowd.

So, as the saying goes, the journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step, and I took that first step tonight. I have passed the threshold from someone who runs to being a runner. And, I even got a T-shirt.

"Leave your veapon on zee plane."

When posting to a blog, the site records it in chronological order, in the order it was posted. In this case, I wrote both of these entries before I had any kind of reasonable internet access and I am going to post them out of order so that they will appear in chronological order. So, what you are about to read is really the first of two entries, posted in “reverse” order. In other words, this post is about the first ½ of my travel and the second post is about the other ½.

Well, I’ve got to say that I am considerably impressed with my trip to Kuwait so far. Everything I’ve ever experienced in the Army told me that I would have to wait inordinate amounts of time just to get where I am now. I am delighted that for once, this has not been the case.

Flying to an area for the Army has been grueling in the past. My experience with this is not considerable, mind you, but my two experiences heading out to train in Louisiana have been par for the course with everything else that I’ve experienced in the Army: hurry up and wait.

For instance, in March, when I flew to LA for training, our unit was required to muster at in the company area, draw weapons and head out to the deployment facility. Our initial meeting time was 0200- and that is in military time, meaning 2:00 AM. We obtained our weapons, loaded up on busses and headed out to the airfield. We arrived at probably around 0400. We actually didn’t fly until almost 1200. So, we waited for nearly eight hours until flight time. What did we do? Eat, slept, read, and talked. And I still haven’t figured out why we couldn’t just draw weapons at, say, 0800. Everyone I’ve talked to says that this is normal for the Army when deploying: show up hours early to wait for hours to fly for hours to wait for hours to catch the connecting flight or sit on the tarmac.

But, I am pleased to say that this experience has been different. For one, this was my first real deployment, and my first experience at the deployment facility at Ft. Hood. Once we got through the initial deployment ceremony, which both my wife and I say we could have skipped without real consequence, we headed out to the airfield. We were supposed to head out at 1600, and we actually did, but it took a little while to load up all the busses. I expected to get to the airfield and wait for hours, upwards of five or six before we actually left.

Without being too verbose, I was pretty impressed with what the Army had waiting for us over there. USO, Salvation Army, and other non-profits just waiting for us to encourage us and give us care packages. There was even a woman there whose entire job was to hug every soldier. And that she did. I think I got two hugs; one in the chow line and one when we left to get on the plane.

We arrived at the airfield at around 1700. We were on the plane at 1800. So, basically, we had enough time to eat, visit the different booths and head back to the briefing room for the briefings. Impressive, I tell you, considering what I was expecting.

From Ft. Hood, we flew to Bangor, Maine. I’ve never been to Bangor. I don’t think I’ll go back. Nothing wrong with the airport, it’s just that I’ve spent enough time in the north. I left Ft. Hood when it was in the mid 70’s. Bangor, Maine was in the low 40’s. Forget strike one. You are just out. It was good, though. We didn’t have to stay on the plane, so it wasn’t all that bad. We stayed there for a little more than an hour so that the plane can fuel up and restock the food and then we took our six hour flight to…

Germany! This is where I am writing this from right now. We arrived at about 0630 CST, which is 1430 Local, I think. Uneventful flight, really. I slept most of the way. I partially woke up for a second and dreamed I saw The Thing from Fantastic Four. Turns out, that was the in-flight movie, but I didn’t realize it until we landed.

The most amusing part of this trip has got to be the announcement that we were in Germany. See, in Bangor, we were told to leave our weapons on the plane, and disembark to the terminal. Everyone was happy about this. When we arrived in Germany, a German guy got on the intercom (we didn’t even know there was a German guy on the plane) and gave us our announcements (Local time, weather, etc.) with a German accent. Believe it or not, it sounded like it was out of a movie, more than it sounded real. I thought I was watching a James Bond movie for a second. In fact, one of his final comments, “Leave your veapon on zee plane…” was so amusing, half the plane repeated it, accent included, in a mocking, comedic sort of way. So, just imagine about 40 or folks (the number within earshot of me) saying that several times.

Well, now we have about a four hour wait until we board the plane for Kuwait. This means we’ll get there around midnight, local time, which is one of the worst times to arrive. I would much rather arrive in the daytime when the sunlight and the unfamiliar surroundings assist in my battle with the intense urge to sleep.

I’ve heard great things about this deployment. And I have to tell you, if the rest of the deployment goes as smoothly as the trip, I am in for a pleasant experience.

The desert is full of sand!

Okay, so my luck has run out. All those good things I said about how the flight was running so smoothly? Well, forget them. Our layover in Germany was six hours, not four! And the only thing it had were the mandatory duty-free shop and the gift shop. Oh, and I could use their internet services on their terminal to send email for a Euro or two. At least I was with friends and colleagues, so it wasn’t so bad.

It was a nice experience, actually, because I got the chance to spend some time with some of the great folks in my unit. If anything, that is always a good thing.

So, back on the plane. The jet lag is already hitting hard. Or maybe it is the fact that I’ve been awake for nearly 24 hours. Say what you want, but there is only so much one can sleep on a plane. Of course, the airplane food is typical airplane food and they continually feed us, like every two or three hours. I did get to watch Fantastic Four in its entirety this time.

So, after about five more hours on the plane, we land in Kuwait! Yeah! Well, maybe not. Because of the extra long layover in Germany, we didn’t arrive in Kuwait until about 0300 or 0400. I was in the back of the plane, so the baggage detail and the folks sharing my section of the plane were the last to disembark.

So, off we went. After we drove in the desert for hours (I fell asleep a couple of times, so my estimation of time is a little off. We could have been driving in circles for all I know), we finally arrived in a different camp where we were supposed to arrive. Apparently the other unit that was with us was supposed to go there. We dropped them off, checked in, had lunch, went through a couple of briefs and went on our way. Back on the busses!

Hours later. (I think anyway. Again, I fell asleep, so my estimation of time is off.) We finally arrive at our destination. Everyone stinks. We’re hungry, tired and aggravated, but happy to finally be done with the traveling. We locked up our weapons and then headed to our new home for the next year.

So, nearly 48 hours of travel with maybe three or four hours of sleep. Plus jet lag to boot. I hope you can feel my pain because all I can feel is the call of my mattress.