Peter goes to

NAVY SEAL PT TRAINING

So everyone's been asking me if I was going to put up a website about my training... So I did. Basically, I'm just listing, in order of days, the emails I've been sending out, but at least it makes it an archive.

Happy reading, be thankful you're not going through this yourself, and enjoy.

Hu-YAH!

-Peter

Day one: Ow.

Day two: 110%? Me?

Day Three?: I got a "Good!"

Day Four: Getting... Easier? Or not.

Day Five: Clubbed Seal

Day Six: Sand-E-Licious

Day Seven: Topless Television

Day Eight: Humor Reservoir

Day Nine: 57:59

Day 10: 8-Count Introspective

Subject: Boot camp - Day one: Ow
Date: 05.14.01

(For those who don't know how high my level of insanity actually goes, I'm taking part in a Navy SEAL training course, meeting every day for two straight weeks, from 5am to 7am, in Central Park. I'll be sending off little missives after each day's training. If for some reason, you find my writing boring, tell me, and I'll take you off the list.)

At three hours and fifty-eight minutes into Monday, my alarm went off. Karma and NASA, my two cats, startled by the box that usually goes off WELL after the sun has risen, did what most cats do when startled; rolled over and went back to sleep. Me, I swung my legs over my bed and onto the floor, wondering how one goes about creating a Typhoon that would surely cancel today's class.

Walking out of my building at 4:30am, dressed in a black t-shirt, black sweatshirt, blue running shorts, and black sweat pants, my doorman asked if I was ok. "Do I not look ok," I asked, while handing him my keys. "No, you look fine, it's just, well, it's 430 in the morning," he said, with a genuine look of concern. "Yes," I replied. "I know."

Jogging up Ninth Avenue with my water bottle to Central Park, I saw not one, but two couples, winding down their nights. I wished longingly that I was the male in both the equations, not so much to get the girl, but simply knowing that they were both heading for bed, and I, well, I was heading into the depths of hell.

Arriving at 63rd St. and Central Park West, I came across a group of 30 or so other people. Some milling around, looking down, some who looked like they had WAY too much coffee, and others who had that "I'm up and physically mobile, but not exactly sure how I'm doing it" look in their eyes. I fell into that category.

I met Amy and Evan, two people who would wind up being relatively close to me during today's training. After a few pleasantries, I was about to ask them if they knew how this class was supposed to function.

I never got the chance.

They say that over the course of one's lifetime, one faces death more than once. Usually it happens in fleeting moments - The friend who pulls you back from the oncoming bus you didn't see as you were crossing the street, the glance out of the corner of your eye that prevents you from hitting that car skidding through the red light...

This morning, I faced death again, and it came in the form of Navy SEAL Instructor John "Jack" Walston, a 35-year-old Navy SEAL veteran, with over nine-years of active duty military service. Instructor Walston is about my height, and has the body fat percentage of a Venetian blind. He is the definition of "Built." Not overly grotesque, not scrawny. Perfectly conditioned, perfectly in shape.

"TWO LINES!" That's all he Instructor Walston said for the first five minutes of the course. That's it. Well, he also said "Hold this," as he threw a fifty-pound duffel bag onto the first person in line. Then, at one minute after five in the morning, we were running through the park to our training area. As we ran silently along the dark pathways, with only the repetitive pounding of our running shoes and the occasional out-of-breath gasp of someone in much less shape, I felt that same "pit of my stomach" fear that I've felt at other times in my life - First day of Junior High School, for instance, as I got out of my dad's Buick, and walked into the main courtyard. It's a special kind of fear - a fear that raises your adrenalin to almost leopard-like levels... Ready to pounce or defend yourself at a second's notice. It's that same fear that makes you ask, "How did I get here?" Or, more importantly, "WHY am I doing this?" Even the thought that I could simply quit whenever I wanted to did nothing to belay my fears, mostly because I'm not real big into quitting, and didn't plan on doing so.

Upon arriving at our "training area" (a blacktop space in Central Park next to a big sand box) we were told to count off. I was #15, and I felt my first moment of pity for the person who didn't stay in time with the count. (DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW TO COUNT? START OVER!)

Then it was time for the fitness tests. As many push ups as you could do in two minutes, followed immediately by as many sit ups as you could do in the same amount of time. (For those who care, 53 push ups, 44 sit ups).

This was where the first person threw up. I'll give him this, though - he had enough common sense to run OFF The blacktop. He even got a sort-of compliment from Instructor Walston as the second one was about to invoke the physical law of reverse peristalsis - (DO NOT THROW UP ON MY TRAINING AREA - DO WHAT THE OTHER ONE DID AND THROW UP OVER THERE!)

Then came the run. About 2 miles or so. That was relatively easy - I felt good about that. At least, until I found out that it was the "Test run" I.e., to see if we could run. Rumor says tomorrow is a five mile run. Oy.

After the run, we got a little lesson in the law from Instructor Walston "IN NEW YORK STATE, IN ORDER TO QUALIFY FOR A REFUND, YOU NEED TO PROVE THAT I WILLINGLY DID NOT PROVIDE YOU WITH THE SERVICE YOU PAID FOR - NAMELY, THE NAVY SEAL INSTRUCTION. WELL LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I'M HERE. I'LL PROVIDE AS MUCH AS YOU CAN TAKE. IF YOU QUIT, YOU QUIT ON YOUR DIME. IF YOU NEED TO BE A QUITTER, YOU GO AND QUIT, AND BE REMEMBERED AS A QUITTER, AND I'LL STAY HERE AND WORK WITH THE PEOPLE WHO CAN REALLY TAKE IT."

Then, he sat us in a circle and asked us to discuss our feelings.

Not.

Now it was time for real pain. Push ups. Sit ups. Jumping Jacks. Obliques. Scissors. "Crazy Bob's." (Think of leg squats, combined with getting into push up position, jumping back up, jumping for the sky, and doing it all over,) and, Instructor Walston's apparent favorite, Chase the Rabbits. In push up position, bring one leg up to your front, then while leaning on your hands, swap leg positions back and forth.

I say Chase the Rabbits are the Instructor's favorite, simply because every time we didn't do something to his satisfaction, it was back to the Chase the Rabbits. "73! 74! 75! OK. ON YOUR FEET. TOO SLOW. BACK DOWN. 50 CHASE THE RABBITS."

That's what I mean.

We got to play in the sand. Imagine running on your hands and feet (NOT KNEES) 400 feet each way, back and forth, until you're told to stop. Try it across your living room tonight. You'll make it, but your heart will be racing. - Try doing it eight times. In sand. While breathing the sand kicked up by the person in front of you.

At 640, Instructor Walston took attendance. At 641, we all got into push up position and stayed there for 10 minutes because Amy answered her role call not with "YES INSTRUCTOR" or "HERE" but "Yeah." You could SEE her wince when she said it, she knew she just gave us hell. Had we been in the barracks tonight, we'd have pelted her with apples tied up in our socks. (This is my rifle. There are many like it. This one is mine.)

And then, just as suddenly, we were dismissed. I looked at my watch as I walked out of Central Park, and realized that yes, I had in fact done more by 7am then most people will do all day. I walked home, drank my own body weight in water, took a shower, realized that I couldn't stop sweating, took another one, got dressed, and headed into the office.

Tomorrow, I'll do it all again. I'm going to finish this. I'm not going to be one of the over half who quit and don't finish the course. I'm going to finish it.

Some more interesting notes...

This instructor is not just muscle. He's VERY intelligent - I could see it - he knows exactly how to get to us, and I have no doubt that he will. That scares me more than any musclebound idiot ever would.

This is the first time in my life that I'm going to want to stay as anonymous as possible. Something tells me I'll get nailed, at some point, somehow.

SportBrain count 2 hours, 11,010 steps. Not bad before 7am.

More tomorrow. I'm off to grind and snort Ibuprofin.

)

-Peter

PS Think you're tough enough? www.sealptcourse.com

Subject: Boot camp - Day two: 110% - Me?
Date: 05.15.01

"Do you have any idea how glad I am I didn't kill you?" -Dell Griffith, (John Candy)
"Do you have any idea how happy I'd be if you had?" - Neal Page (Steve Martin) - Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

In one of his many great teachings, Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche once wrote, ""Hope in reality is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs the torments of man." Tim Robbins, portraying Andy DuFraine in The Shawshank Redemption, said "Remember, Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things. And no good thing ever dies."

In SEAL PT Training, both quotes are well justified. One hopes for the exercise to end, and each hope in turn prolongs the exercise into "20 more, ok, 30."

Alarm went off again, as it did yesterday - But I was ready for it. I was smart. I fell asleep earlier last night. (As if I had a choice - I was so exhausted to begin with from yesterday's workout.) As I attempted my morning swing of my legs off my bed, I noticed an interesting phenomenon - My abdominal muscles refused to respond. Well actually, that's not true. They responded, but not with the typical range of motion. They responded with a pain so severe, that for a split second, I honestly thought I was giving birth to a Yack.

I made it to the shower, where I plopped down in the tub and let the water run as hot as I could stand it. I learned how to breathe without actually filling my lungs (thus expanding my abdominals) up with air. I think it has something to do with gills. Decided to check my email before I left. That proved interesting, as Karma the cat was sitting on my computer. I attempted to move him, and couldn't lift him up. I sort of had to "urge" him off my keyboard. After secretly laughing at me like only a cat can, he wandered off in search of his little brother.

I left the apartment, the doorman impressed that I did two days in a row. Apparently, he'd been informed by his relief of exactly how in pain I looked when I returned yesterday morning.

Arriving at 63rd St., I noticed 3 people missing from the class, but five new additions, who were out of town yesterday. So we're actually plus two!

Today was the first "real" class. As soon as we were in formation, we learned that the proper greeting to Instructor Walston is "Hu-Yah, Instructor Walston!" That's when we got our first compliment - "Not bad," he said, followed immediately by "IF YOU WEREN'T IN THE CLASS YESTERDAY, GET INTO THE SAND PIT NOW. THE REST OF YOU, TWO LAPS AROUND THE MEADOW. MOVE!"

I've got to tell you - I actually look forward to the running. It's the least painful part, and something at which I know I'm relatively good. While I never finished first, I'd say I finished around the back of the first third of people. And for me, someone who nine-months ago smoked two packs a day and only used the words "a run" in conjunction with "to the store for smokes," that's damn impressive. For the first time, I honestly thought that I could do any physical challenge put in front of me! It was wonderful! It was a great feeling! It was

Quickly squashed flatter than TheGlobe.com's stock price by Instructor Walston, who directed us all to the baseball fields for "leg exercises."

Let's explain leg exercises. Have you ever done a Lunge? That's when you put your foot down in front of you, bend at a ninety degree angle, stand up. Works the butt, glutes, hamstrings. Great exercise.

EXCEPT WHEN YOU'RE DOING THEM ACROSS THE LENGTH OF A FOOTBALL FIELD AND A HALF. AND BACK.

Pain like I've never known ripped through my legs. White hot pain, the kind that must accompany a bullet piercing completely through an appendage. Whether bullets or bombs, though, I made it across and back, NOT LAST! The key of the day was not to come in last.

More exercises - on our feet, on our hands and feet, into the cold morning grass, across the field, over and over, again and again until our vision was blurred by the steam coming off our bodies, mixing with the cold air and the sweat - we actually saw steam rising off of our face and arms.

Back to the training area for (and I kid you not here, you might want to sit down) over 1,000 abdominal repetitions. Scissors, butterflys, reverse butterflys, crunches, full sit ups, half sit ups, obliques - anything and everything to work every square inch of your abdominal muscles. (TIRED? DON'T GET TIRED IN MY COURSE. WHEN THIS COURSE ENDS, GO TO WORK, CLOSE THE DOOR, AND SLEEP AT WORK. NOT IN MY COURSE.)

Lesson learned today - And something I'll carry with me for life - We, the American population are not only trained to work at around 50% effort, but actually REWARDED FOR IT! Think of the Drive-through, "fat-burning" pills... We give 50% at best. When you go in and give over 50%, 80%, 90%, 110%, it's amazing what can be achieved. It's truly amazing. I amazed myself today, even. )

Second lesson learned today Mental stamina is not something that can be bought, traded, or borrowed. It has to be built from the inside. EVERY single time I didn't think I could do another sit up, another lunge, another push up, another step - I did. And I was self-rewarded for it.

Final thought I got home this morning around 7:30am, and jumped in the shower. I was doing some work at Venture Downtown, and needed to be dressed and out the door. I got out of the shower, and attempted to put on deodorant. I found that I couldn't hold my arm up on it's own. I had to lift my arm up with my other hand, grab the top of the bathroom vanity, take the deodorant in the other hand, and apply it. I couldn't believe it, until I realized that I didn't believe the guy who said that after his first day, he had to wash his hair by spraying the Shampoo on the wall and rubbing his hair against the wall, into the shampoo. I believe him now.

Second final thought Thanks to EVERYONE who emailed me offering me encouragement - Special thanks to a former Marine who emailed me explaining that a bar of soap in the socks works MUCH better than the apple - and the longer the sock, the more pain inflicted. Good to know. And to those who emailed me saying they'd think of me as they rolled over and went back to bed, I'll be the one at the Hamptons this summer with the rock-hard six pack. And I will feel ZERO pity for you, my friends. )

The counts

3 people gone today.

16,040 steps on SportBrain before 7am.

Going home. Must push cat off bed and sleep. Have to be up in nine and a half hours. Ouch.

More tomorrow, from day 3,

)

-Peter

Subject: Boot camp - Day three: I got a "Good!"
Date: 05.16.01

"Pain is your friend; it is your ally. Pain reminds you to finish the job and get the hell home. Pain tells you when you have been seriously wounded. And you know what the best thing about pain is? It tells you you're not dead yet!" Master Chief John Urgayle, (Viggo Mortensen) GI Jane

Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm not dead yet. Far from it.

Today was mentally tough, physically easy. Well, not "easy" as in "I think I'll lie down in my lounger and watch The Sopranos," easy, but easy as in "WE DIDN'T HAVE TO DO LUNGES!" That in itself was pure joy.

So, I forgot to mention in my day 2 email, that I was put in charge of collecting the email addresses for the entire class so that we could create a class "cadence" to shout as we ran the length of the park. I created the list, saved it as a pdf, mailed it to everyone last night, and left the office.

5 minutes before I was supposed to go to bed, I realized that I never actually mailed it to MYSELF, and my only copy was sitting in the office. Jumping online to review every email, I found a wonderful co-seal named Devin, who said he'd gladly print out copies and bring them to class today. I felt much better, and slipped into a deep slumber within 2.5 seconds of hitting the pillow, around 10:30pm.

Getting up was really the most mentally challenging part of the day - The hardest it's been all three days - My alarm went off at 3:45, I hit snooze at 3:45.01. At 4:01 I dragged myself into the shower, and realized that everything hurt. I had no muscle group that wasn't in pain. Basing the workouts on the theory that you work the top one day, the bottom the next, and so on, I couldn't for the life of me figure out what he'd have us do. Eyebrow flutters? Finger straightening? I didn't know what we could do that wouldn't kill us.

Funny - you never know until you try.

Upon arriving, we all tried to memorize everyone else's name - a feat that's hard enough in the middle of the day, let alone at 449am. Right now, out of our entire class of 31 (4 who are AWOL, btw,) I know Devin, Kristin, Richard, Joe, Dorothy, Laura Ann, Pamela, Amy, and Dana. The rest are "That big guy, with the hat," or "the panting one," or my personal favorite, "Mr. no sleeves trying to be cool even though it's 50 degrees out and he's obviously freezing."

I'm guessing that we'll be in for 10 chase-the-rabbits for every name we miss, so I'm looking at about 230 chase-the-rabbits tomorrow. Lucky me.

Today was roadwork - We ran, and ran, and speedwalked, and ran, and speedwalked, and ran some more. At one point, we lined up in formation while we were briefed on the proper way to run - I've been doing about 60% of the things right. MY arms flail out too far, and I tend to bring them up over my chest when I run. Not needed. We ran a few laps to try and correct ourselves, then we ran by Instructor Walston to show our form.

In the course of my life, I've had three major "compliment" moments, all of which rank on a list, 1 through 3.

1) Kristin Kulba, a lifelong crush, told me that she thought I lost weight, and couldn't believe how good I looked. June, 2000.

2) High-school peers came up to me at my ten year high school reunion, and told me how amazed they were because they heard I was running my own company, and looked really good!

3) Ross Perot called me "the kind of person who was going to be responsible for leading this country into the future" because I photographed my own college graduation ceremony, instead of just getting drunk and partying with everyone the night before.

Well, we love you Ross, but you've just been bumped off the list to #4, my high-school buddies to #3, and Kristin, I'll always love you and hate to do this to you, but you're now #2. My new number one compliment in my life came from Instructor Walston, as I ran by him. He said, very simply, "Good."

My world exploded. Imagine Franklin when lightning hit the kite. Imagine Dickens when a publisher finally said "Yeah, we'll take a look at your Copper-what's-his-name book..." Imagine Gilligan, when he FINALLY got off the island...

I was FLYING for the rest of the course - So much so, that I didn't even CARE that we did, on average, around 500 push ups, interspersed with arm exercises and push/pulls after each 10 push ups. Wides, lows, didn't matter, I was on air. Even the walk back to my apartment was easy. I've been flying all morning, ladies and gentlemen. I HAVE GOOD FORM!

That was the highlight of my morning. No question about it. However, in retrospect, I'm a bit frightened... Let's think about this - He made us run, (which is my favorite part...) He made us do upper body, even went so far as to crack a joke... Complimented some of us... All of this can only mean one thing...

WE ARE GOING TO GET THE LIVING HELL KICKED OUT OF US TOMORROW, UP ONE SIDE OF CENTRAL PARK AND DOWN THE OTHER. I can feel it. Everyone I've spoken with this morning in the class agrees... Day four, will be a day of pain. A day that we will remember. Mark my words. It's gonna suck. But I'll be there.

Interesting thing of note - Instructor Walston has done an Ironman Triathlon - Without the bike. He RAN 141 miles in one day. Can you imagine that? Think about that for a second. To put it in perspective, according to Yahoo! Maps, my apartment on 43rd St. to City Hall in PHILADELPHIA is only 106.1 miles. "Honey, where are you going?" "Oh, I'm just gonna run to Philadelphia." Now here's what's incredible - He started the Ironman 3 hours earlier than anyone else, and finished with the last of the bikers. Think about that. The man is a machine. He's my idol.

Another interesting note - Instructor Walston mentioned to us that his SEAL course (the real, eight-month one) started with 207 people. Hockey players, Triathletes, you name it. 14 people finished. It really is a test of mental fitness, as much as physical - I'm learning that every day. I know I'll get the tight butt out of this, and the abs that I want, but in these past three days, I've seen an attitude, a level of dedication and professionalism that I've never seen before in my life - And I'm proud to be a part of it. Every day, for the rest of my life, I'm going to try to remember that attitude, that level of professionalism, that mental toughness and determination, and work it into my life every way I possibly can. I truly believe I'll become a better person for it, in every facet of my life.

You know, I think I really LIKE this course.

Even scarier? I could actually see myself doing it again. But for now, let's just get through it. )

Thank you to everyone who keeps emailing me the support and encouragement... It rocks. Tanya I again have a new-found respect for your husband. If he kept one tenth of what I'm learning here, wow. I know I'm nowhere NEAR what he went through, but... wow. Judith I'm not a God, yet. Dan`, I know you're amazed that PR people can write. ) Mom and dad, fine. Your son is crazy. There. You win. )

Numbers

Down to 29 today, 4 people AWOL.

22,050 steps by 7AM on the SportBrain.

Compliments by Instructor Walston: One.

"I weep for the future"

Snobby Maitre' D in Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

Speak to you all tomorrow,

-Peter

Subject: Boot camp - Day four: Getting... Easier? Or not.
Date: 05.17.01

(For those who've asked, missives are now posted at http//www.shankman.com/sealpt.html)

Shoot me again! I enjoy it! I love the smell of burnt feathers, and gunpowder, and cordite! I'm an elk! Shoot me, go on! It's elk season! I'm a fiddler crab! Why don't you shoot me?! It's fiddler crab season!!

Daffy Duck (Mel Blanc) "Duck Rabbit, Duck!"

When I was a small child, my parents used to encourage me to read anything and everything. Reading became my escape from the every day; I could pick up a book and get lost for hours. It got to the point where my parents, if I wasn't playing outside, could find me curled up on the couch with my latest purchase from the book store. One of my all-time favorite reads was a series of books called "Choose Your Own Adventure" books. They had competition, namely "Which-Way" books, which, apart from having a cooler logo (the "W" in "Which" and the "Y" in Way" formed a circular arrow,) didn't really measure up to the CYOA series.

Anyhow, one of my favorite books in the series involved the travels of a young boy to a far-away kingdom. Since these were CYOA books, the choices you made (if you want to find the dragon, turn to page 38, if you want to run back and get the wizard to help you, turn to page 53) determined your fate. One specific fate to which I would always fall prey involved getting to a door, or a room, or a house, only to find that as I got closer to it, it got further and further away. The faster I ran, the further it escaped my grasp. I was doomed to an eternity of chasing my destination.

When Instructor Walston "loses count" at 84, and restarted abdominal scissor kicks at zero, or when we didn't get up fast enough, and he wiped out the entire 14 previous sets of 20 reps of push ups and jumping jacks we'd just completed, I was 10-years-old again, chasing my goal as it got further and further away.

This time, though, I think I have a better chance of actually catching it.

Could you possibly believe me when I told you that today's class was actually EASIER? Let's clarify "easier," though. It's not easier as in "oh, what a nice jog we had," quite the opposite, my heart rate monitor told me my heart rate peaked at 201 at one point today. But it was easier in that... (are you sitting down?) I ENJOYED my workout today! And, ready for this? I'm actually LOOKING FORWARD to tomorrow!

Oh, My God. I'm turning into one of those people you read about in "Fitness" and "Runner's World."

On a sad note, we lost someone today who I thought would totally finish the class - A woman who writes for one of the major NY papers, decided that it was too stressful a time in her life - That bummed me out. I really hoped she would complete the course. If I do it again in July (which, shock, I think I'm going to,) I'll drag her ass there, every morning. (You listening, KH?)

Today started with my mental exercise in the shower of counting the hours, then the minutes, then the seconds until I could get home tonight and go back to sleep. Did my laundry early last night, (and I actually IRONED my uniform!!) laying everything out so I'd be ready to go. Upon leaving my apartment, I got hit with the Daily News, which was being delivered to my door. Apparently, the delivery guy has MASTERED the ability to stand, one foot still in the elevator to prevent it from leaving, and toss 3 newspapers at 3 different doors, hitting each one PERFECTLY. (Except this morning, when he hit me.) He ran over to apologize, and asked if I was going for a run. "Among other things," I replied.

Arriving at 63rd and Central Park, (and I admit it, I took a cab the 23 blocks, my Glutes weren't in the mood to argue) I immediately set out to learn our new Cadence, which included Grammy Award winning lines as "Up in the morning with the rising sun... Some crazy New Yorkers did PT for fun..." Add in a "Sound off" and a "Louder," and we've got the key to knocking the N'Sync and the Backstreet Boys right down the chart, I tell you. (And now SEAL PT 03 Class Cadence - Rising with a bullet! I'm Rick Deez.)

On our warm up run (1.5 miles, easy,) we studied and chanted. Two people commented, "Peter, you have a nice voice!" I realized I wasn't so much chanting, but actually singing the cadence. However, something tells me that Instructor Walston wouldn't appreciate the four part tri-harmonies I thought up, so I kept them to myself. For what it's worth, there are THREE tones in Cadence singing - The high note, the low note, and the lower note. High note "UP," and "SUN" - Low note "IN THE MORNING" and "RISING", and Lowest note "WITH THE" - Put it together, and you have a cadence. Congratulations, you too can take SEAL PT training.

Of course, after dutifully memorizing said cadence, we were greeted with a "SHUT UP" from a somewhat pissed off Instructor Walston. Apparently, our Cadencing (Cadencing?) sucked.

"TIMED RUNS. INDIVIDUAL EFFORT. SLOWER PEOPLE, 2 LAPS. FASTER PEOPLE, 4. MOVE OUT." I was placed in the "faster" group. Think Kevin Spacey from American Beauty when he buys the car: "I RULE."

And we were off again. That'll teach us to Cadence. Interesting thing about the timed runs... Because they're individual effort, you can see who's an amazing runner, who's average, and who should stick to cabs. While everyone in our class can run at least some portion of the lap, there are a few who truly excel - Those are the ones I find myself trying to keep pace with. Today, I was able to match Richard, stride for stride, for about 3/4ths of a lap. Richard, on average, runs a six minute mile. Considering I usually do a 1013 to 1049, I was EXCEPTIONALLY impressed with myself. Of course, this lasted until I realized that I couldn't breathe and should probably slow down, lest I get yelled at for not breathing.

As I came around the path, Instructor Walston popped up. I mean, he literally just appeared. Out of nowhere. Scared the living CRAP out of me. A millisecond before, he wasn't there, and now he was. We're being taught SEAL PT by the Blair Witch.

But - The Blair Witch complimented me again. "Good form. Good."

THREE WORDS! I had a stupid grin on my face for the rest of the run.

Then, we came back for the rest of the day. 1 hour worth of push ups, sit ups, jumping jacks, obliques, lunges, reverse lunges, eight-count presses, you name it. Bit of an issue with my right knee, I don't know WHAT the hell that was about... It decided to start hurting when I bent it past a 45 degree angle. Instructor Walston noticed that I was favoring my other leg, and had me stick with full skiing lunges (butt out, 90% bend, hands out holding imaginary poles,) while everyone else alternated legs. That worked, but I was pissed at myself for not being able to follow the course. I know it was probably just a one-time thing, but I actually was mad at myself for not being able keep up. I considered it a sign of my own personal weakness. Am I just being weird?

We finished the day, but not before being warned... "TOMORROW, CLASS WILL START AT 5AM. THAT MEANS, BE HERE IN FORMATION AT 5AM. YOU WILL BE STRETCHED, READY, AND IN FORMATION AT 5AM. ANYONE NOT IN FORMATION WILL CAUSE THE ENTIRE DAY TO TAKE AN UGLY TURN. YOU HAVE FIFTEEN SECONDS TO GET OUT OF MY SIGHT FOR THE REMAINDER OF THE DAY."

The Blair Witch had spoken.

We scurried out of Central Park faster than Robert Blake searching for an alibi. Walked back with two people who work for ESPN, one had already taken the class again... I was told that tomorrow, well, suffice it to say that tomorrow is going to include doing push ups while laying down a hill, and sit ups while laying up a hill. And tomorrow starts at five.

And it's supposed to rain.

We received an email update from the SEAL PT office, informing us that, "just so you know, weather does not cancel class. Hope you're having a good day!" Great. The Blair Witch is ominous, as well.

Thoughts about the day

There is no question, I'm becoming addicted. I find myself excited for what we're going to do today, and instead of thinking "I wonder if I can skip 2 reps, he'll never notice," I attempt to finish each set, if not completely, then in modified form. Scary. This from the same person who bought a "Casio information watch" in high school into which you could input small words, just so I could cheat on my Spanish tests.

I'm sweating more than Shawn Fanning in a room full of RIAA execs. You've got to realize, when we get to the park in the morning, it's COLD! We're talking COLD! 40, 50 degrees! So I usually wear a long sleeve t-shirt, my SEAL PT t-shirt, and then a sweatshirt on top of that, which comes off before the training begins. On my legs, I'm wearing running shorts, (awesome new balance running shorts given to me by the woman who convinced me to get my ass to the gym in the first place, thank you, RS,) and sweatpants over them. When the workout is over, everything is soaked. I mean, DRENCHED. I get home, and have to get to the bathroom before my cats overtake me, thinking I'm a six-foot, one inch salt lick.

I've YET to go home and go back to sleep, I'm so pumped up from the workout - It's SUCH an amazing feeling to walk out the door and see people leaving for work, and know that you've done more ALREADY then they're going to do all day.

We're supposed to come up with a "class gift" to present to Instructor Walston next Friday. Any ideas what to get the man who's perfect already?

Never letting PR TOO far out of the mix, I've convinced Reuters Television to come film the class next Tuesday. However, I cautioned both the cameraman and the reporter that "YOU DO NOT (REPEAT DO NOT) KNOW ME. DON'T TALK TO ME. DON'T LOOK AT ME. DON'T SMILE AT ME. I DO NOT WANT TO GET PICKED ON. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? First time I've ever gotten press for someone and not wanted to be any more involved than that.

When the workout is finished, I find that I miraculously have better posture. I believe it's because I'm trying to copy Instructor Walston, who not only has amazing posture, but doesn't know how to slouch. But it's interesting - I find that more people (especially women) make (and hold) eye contact with you as they pass you if you're standing up straight with your shoulders back. (Guys? Take note. Girls? Am I right?)

Last last thought Working out, to me, has become sort of a way of life in a lot of ways. For those who don't know, I was about 100 pounds heavier, 4 or so years ago. One day, an ex-girlfriend came into town and gave me that double look of a) what the hell happened to you, and b) there's going to be no "for old time's sake sex" tonight. It was right then that I decided to get in shape. I gave up eating after 8pm, gave up fast food, and started walking. The running came about six or so months ago, thanks to Rebecca for convincing me running is exactly like walking, just faster.) And the weight came off. Most of it, anyway.

The point is, even after dropping the small planet of weight I was carrying, I've always had that extra 10 or 15 pounds to lose, and just figured it would be part of my life forever. But, much like other aspects of life, things change. Personally, professionally, physically, all things change, all the time. When it comes to a point in your life where you want to change, and I mean REALLY WANT to change, you will. It's that simple. No magic weight loss drug, no pill, no secret sauce is going to do it for you. You're going to do it for you. And please understand - I'm not being preachy - Quite the opposite, I used to kick people who were preachy about anything. All I'm saying is, go home tonight, take a look in the mirror. If you don't like what you see, don't get discouraged - Because I swear - You will change it WHEN AND ONLY WHEN YOU ARE READY. This much I promise you. Let you in on a secret? I'm STILL not happy with what I see in the mirror. But I'm getting there. And it will happen. And again - I'm NOT preaching. Honestly.

More thoughts My jeans are looser. I don't think I've lost weight, I just think that I'm decomposing because I'm actually dead, and just haven't stopped moving yet. That could be it.

Pete's trivia of the day A person lying in a coma in a hospital STILL needs a liter of fluid (water) per day.

Extra stuff I found out about myself Today I learned that when I'm really thirsty, I can gulp down up to 1/3rd of a gallon of water in one shot.

Kudos to Deb for reminding me of the great line in Ghostbusters: (Ghostbusters "Are you a God?" "No." "Then DIE." "Ray, if someone asks you if you're a God. . . you say 'YES!!!!'")

Kudos to Rebecca for helping me learn about PACING myself, and how to train, and for listening to me bitch about my knee.

Tomorrow, as mentioned, it's supposed to rain. BRING IT ON, BABY.

<Sound off... Peter's about to complete day five... 3 to 2 odds he won't make it out alive. Sound off... One two...>

-Peter

Subject: Boot camp - Day five: Clubbed Seal.
Date: 05.18.01

Online at http://www.shankman.com/sealpt.html

"By the wrath of the Lord Almighty the land will be scorched and the people will be fuel for the fire; no one will spare his brother."

Isaiah 9:18

Before we begin today's SEAL PT retrospective, the editor would like to publicly apologize for a grievous error It has come to my attention that I might have mentioned that I thought the class was getting a little bit easier. This was obviously a mistake of the gravest proportions, and I would like to assure you that in fact, the class has in no way, shape, or form, gotten any easier. Quite the opposite has occurred. The editor greatly regrets the error.

My first clue should have been the clouds that greeted my eyes when I sleepily peered through my windows at 330am.

My cousin had come over last night, and she and I had spent the evening chowing on pizza and talking about the complexities of life. Having not reached a satisfactory answer by 10:30pm, we nodded off, only to be woken up every hour on the hour by an over-anxious half Himalayan, half Tabby named NASA, who thought that his rightful place on the couch was being forever overtaken. (I gave my cousin my bed.) Come 330, I had MAYBE 2 hours of uninterrupted sleep, maybe four and a half total.

I thought that perhaps the rain would hold off until later in the day, maybe just stay cloudy and cool. Cloudy and cool would be nice. That would be comforting - good to workout without the blazing sun, but rather, under the shade of an overcast sky.

T'was not to be.

Upon arriving at 63rd Street and Central Park West, the sky opened, and water spilled forth from the heavens like some dark form of SEAL baptism. It was as if a higher power was watching us from above, and some hand from heaven was leaning back to slam forth a bitch-slap from the Gods.

Arriving at the field at 6 minutes to five, we stretched, walked in place, and waited for Instructor Walston to arrive. By this time, we were more or less soaked. A lot "more" soaked than "less" soaked.

"COUNT?" The class leader answered with a number one less than yesterday. "ONE LAP WARM UP. MOVE."

We moved. My brand new, less-than-14-hours-old New Balance sneakers were instantly a dull grey. Trust me to wear them for the first time in the rain. Arriving back at the field, we were told to move to the back grass, in a circle facing each other, which could only mean one thing.

NAMES.

Standing in our circle, we placed our right hands over our left breast, where we'd written in our names on our shirts. Instructor Walston picked a person at random to start naming people, full circle. Out of 24 of us, he got eight.

"FALL IN. EIGHT COUNT BODYBUILDERS UNTIL I TELL YOU TO STOP."

Forty ECB's later, we were back, out of breath, and it was my turn.

I remember Mr. Kravitsky. Mr. Kravitsky was my math tutor when I was in Junior High. He'd come to my house once a week or so and help me learn Algebra, equations, fractions, you name it. He kind of looked like Thomas F. Wilson, the actor who portrayed Biff Tannen in Back to the Future. (The one who said "Hello, anyone home, McFly? Think!")

Anyhow, math was never my strong suit. One day, I didn't do his assigned homework. He asked where it was - I faked it. "I must have misplaced it, maybe the cleaning lady threw it out?" "OK, he said." Before the end of the lesson, he'd somehow informed my parents what had happened, who walked in as I was getting ready to go out and ride my Huffy bike.

"The cleaning lady doesn't come on Tuesday, Peter. You're grounded for 3 weeks. Forget about bike riding. Go upstairs and do your math homework," my mom said, with not so much as a hint of a "this can be discussed later."

I was caught. There was no way I was going to get out of this.

OK. Here we go. John, Michelle, Jennifer, B... Um, I mean, Da... Um, Olivy Oyl, um, Monica Lewin, I mean, wait a sec, it'll come to" "FALL IN"

"SIT UPS. DON'T EVEN COUNT OFF. JUST GO. I'LL TELL YOU WHEN TO STOP."

By my count, it was over 100.

Of course, the woman next to me (Who's name I KNEW, but she was in the opposite direction,) got every single person right. But seven people missed one or more names in a row after that.

We stood there, looking guilty. We knew we were caught. We didn't remove the theft-proof tags, and the sensors were going off all over Central Park. We were nailed, and we knew it.

Most every time I've ever been busted before, I've always been bummed about actually getting caught. As in, I can't believe I was stupid enough to get caught. This time, I was upset that it happened in the first place. I was upset that I let down my teammates, myself, Instructor Walston. I was nailed, and I didn't like it at all.

Fortunately for my psyche, and unfortunately for my about-to-be-tormented-beyond-the-seventh-level-of-hell-muscles, Instructor Walston didn't like it either, and the next thing we knew, we were on our hands and feet, bear crawling across the grass.

First off, understand this. No matter HOW beautiful Central Park seems, let one never forget that it's in the middle of NEW YORK CITY, and there will ALWAYS be things in the grass that do not appear in other parks. Upside down beer bottle caps, for instance. Pieces of glass. Dog excrement. Probably a syringe or two. Yet we crawled across a good 2 football fields worth of NYC lawn. Across a paved road. Through puddles and over sticks and stones. We were drenched, cold, out of breath, and dizzy. We were covered from head to toe in mud, bits of gravel embedded in our hands, sweat and rain running down our face, carrying the dirt with it, into our eyes, into our ears, in our mouths as we desperately gulped down as much air as we could, constantly afraid that our muscles would give out and we'd plunge face first to the ground.

Getting to the end of the lawn, we were told to run back to our starting positions. We never thought twice about it, and we ran with as much energy as we had remaining in our overworked, torn muscles.

I realized it when I got back to my designated spot, and gasped. There were still people coming in - There was still someone who hadn't even made it back from the field yet...

We had violated the first SEAL PT rule. We'd left a man (in this case, a woman) behind.

Between us not knowing our names, and leaving someone behind, trust me when I say that Instructor Walston was not happy.

"FIVE DAYS! YOU'VE HAD FIVE DAYS. YOU KNOW WHAT WE CALL SOMEONE IN THE NAVY SEALS WHO GOES OUT ON THEIR OWN, WHO DOESN'T WORK IN THE GROUP? WE CALL THAT PERSON DEAD, AND WE ELIMINATE HIM. YOU ARE NOT A TEAM, YOU'RE A BUNCH OF PEOPLE RIDING THE DAMN SUBWAY. IN THE SAND PIT! NOW!!"

And to the sand pit we went. The sand pit was wet. It was still raining. On our stomachs we crawled, as fast as we could, to the other side and back, while our team leader (who's job it is to make sure that we do everything right to begin with) was forced to do raised pushups from a height of three and a half feet. We would get to one side, trying not to swallow the sand we inhaled on the crawl over, and we'd go back the same way. I got a really nasty hit of sand in my right eye, temporarily blinding me in that eye, and I, of course, involuntarily reached up to rub my eye with my hand - the one covered in sand. Needless to say, that didn't help.

Out of the sand pit we stumbled, not able to breathe, crashing into each other, back to our spots. "GET A DRINK, YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS." I took one gulp and used the following two squeezes of my water bottle to try and wash my eye out, to no avail.

"ON YOUR STOMACHS. NOW ROLL. LIKE THE RAIN? THEN DRY THE GROUND." And we rolled. Over and over, across the blacktop. When Instructor Walston ordered us to get up, he told us to do it carefully. I didn't understand why, until I got up, and promptly fell to the ground again. Dizziness and nausea like I haven't felt since I was 14 and in the hospital for a brain tumor enveloped my entire body. The sky became the ground, the ground, the sky. My eyes couldn't focus, and the only thing that stopped me from dragging myself off the blacktop to vomit was that I hadn't had any food in my system in over 12 hours - My body had nothing to process. I got on my knees and prayed for the nausea to go away. After about 15 seconds (which felt like an eternity) I could get up without falling down. I ran (albeit, unstably) to my spot.

Time for another run. If you want to get some idea what that was like, go home, throw a pair of shorts, a pair of sweatpants, a long sleeve t-shirt, and a regular t-shirt in the sink. Dump freezing cold water all over it, then take it outside and run it over with your car. Lastly, put it in your cats litter box for an hour, making sure to mix it up really well. Then put it on, go outside, and run 2 miles.

When we got back, Instructor Walston was gone. Not so much as a goodbye. Our class leader told us that while we really did need to remember how to work together as a team, we should also be proud of ourselves for finishing half the course. We've worked our asses off for five days, and we should be proud. Then it was onto stretches, jacks, final push ups, sit ups, crunches, and obliques.

And then, just like that, I'd finished one of the hardest weeks of my life.

As I walked back to my apartment, I did some soul searching. Why was I so addicted to this? Why did I get up before 4:00am every morning without fail? Claudia Schiffer rolling over in bed naked NEXT to me couldn't wake me before 4:00am, yet here I was, doing it out of my own free will. Why?

I don't know if it's for any grand or noble cause. I started doing it because I wanted to lose a few more pounds and get in shape, and I'm finishing it because I refuse to be a quitter, and because it's a chance to prove that I can do something. There's an oar (an actual boat oar) sanded down, on which all of our names are written. Every time someone quits, their name gets crossed out of the "completion" side, and written on the "quitters" side. I REFUSE to be on that side of the oar. I simply refuse. There are a lot of things in my life that are out of my control. Clients go out of business and leave you with a $50,000 bill. A woman you've dated decides one day out of the blue that she can do better. People you think you can trust screw you. Those are things out of your control.

But if I've learned one thing this week, apart from the fact that after 450 abdominal exercises every day, my cats need to find a new place to call home other than my stomach, it's that I CAN CONTROL MY OWN LIFE. EVERY MORNING, I MAKE THE CHOICE TO COME TO THIS CLASS, AND DO EVERY EXERCISE TO THE BEST OF MY ABILITY. THAT IS MY CHOICE, AND RIGHT OR WRONG, THAT IS WHAT I CHOOSE TO DO. WHILE EVERYTHING ELSE THAT FLOWS IN AND OUT OF MY LIFE MIGHT SCREW UP, OR MIGHT GO WRONG, THE CHOICES I MAKE DETERMINE THE OUTCOME OF MY LIFE. THE CHOICES YOU MAKE DETERMINE THE OUTCOME OF YOUR LIFE. That's how this game works, ladies and gentlemen. And I'm going to play it to the best of my ability - Because in the end, what the hell else do we really have?

I want to thank everyone for following me this week - for the encouragement, for the compliments, for telling me that they enjoy the way I write... Any editors on this list who want to pick this up for their magazines? ) Seriously - Writing down what I've been going through has helped more than you can ever imagine. I'm so glad I've done it.

On Monday, we start week 2. I hear that Instructor Walston is worse on Monday, because you've had the day to relax. Which explains perfectly why I'm doing an eight mile run tomorrow, and a 16 mile bike ride/half mile swim Sunday.

Weekly totals

Group members lost: Five

Sit ups (all forms): 1,600+

Push ups (all forms): 1,600+

Abs (all forms): 2,000+

Miles run: 20+

SportBrain Steps taken: 120,000+

Water drank (just pure water, not counting other drinks with water in them): 14.5 gallons

Hours of sleep since Sunday night: 26.8.

And so, week one ends, and I've survived. Thanks for listening.

I remain,

-Peter

PS I gave my credit card # to the SEAL office today in Houston... I signed up for the NYC July 30-Aug 10 course. Who has the guts to join me? Come on. Chance of a lifetime.

Subject: Boot camp - Day six: Sand-E-Licious...
Date: 05.21.01

"Now drop and give me infinity push-ups!" -Satan
"There is no way we could possibly do infinity push-ups." -Bill S. Preston, Esq.
"Well maybe if he lets us do them girly-style" -Ted "Theodore" Logan
Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey (1991)

Everyone knows Sun Tzu, right? The famous philosopher, made even more famous by Gordon Gecko (Michael Douglas) ordering Budd Fox (Charlie Sheen) to read "The Art of War" in the movie Wall St., has been quoted and quoted and quoted, usually for things like "Anger your enemy," and "if equally matched, engage." However, he once said something that today, carried a lot more weight.

"A single arrow is easily broken, but not ten in a bundle."

Loosely translated, it means "Find people you trust and work with them - life is easier that way."

Good ol' Sun Tzu. He's yet to prove himself wrong.

Today was a day for teamwork. But first, a little history on my weekend.

My goal was to get up and go running Saturday morning. About 3 class members and myself were going to meet at the 59th St. entrance to Central Park, Saturday, 9am. No problem. Saturday, 7:30, my alarm goes off. I hit snooze. The next thing I remember, is asking myself why I feel so rested. "<stretch...> Wow, what a good night's sleep I had, how nice to wake up naturally, without the alarm... .D'OH!" It was 11:30am.

Obviously, my body was trying to tell me something. Sunday was spent biking the Palisades, training on the hills with Pamela, my Triathlon training partner. (Read that as, I'm doing a baby-tri - 1/2 mile swim, 16 mile bike, 3 mile run, again, just to prove I can.) Came back home after getting my rear wheel bumped by a cab, knocking the entire thing out of alignment by about 2.5 inches. Not pleased. Went running. Watched the Sopranos.

So, a full day of Sunday activity, plus a late bedtime and way-early rise, led to my ass being 1/10th as awake this morning as it should have been. And I was feeling it.

Arriving at the field, we found it covered with tons of coffee, electrical duct tape, donuts, and cigarettes, and one big-ass crane. All the tell-tale signs of construction workers. They appeared to be stringing cable across the park. (For a brief second, I thought our job was to take apart the crane, carry it off the field, and put it back together again. Fortunately, that was not to be.)

We moved down field, after convincing the construction workers that we in fact, were NOT the Guardian Angels on maneuvers, and we didn't know Curtis Sliwa. Arriving at the other end of the field, Instructor Walston showed up, only to move us onto the grass.

Interesting side note - Pollen counts are WAY up in Central Park this year.

Side note two: Advil Allergy and Sinus costs more this year than it did last year.

Great "It's Monday" comment of the day: There's a woman named Gloria in our class. Her job, in addition to doing everything we do, is to bring Instructor Walston a fresh cup of coffee, first thing in the morning. She has done this without fail, and leaves it on the ground next to his spot, every morning. When we gathered up our stuff to move to the grass, for some unknown reason, (moment of sleep-induced insanity, perhaps?) Gloria called out, "Do you want your coffee?"

Time stopped. The class stopped double-timing it to the grass. Water bottles in mid carry stopped, the water frozen inside.

"WHAT KIND OF A QUESTION IS THAT? CHASE THE RABBITS. EVERYONE!" he shouted.

I was down and into the count before he even finished. We knew that was coming. Do you want your coffee? DO YOU WANT YOUR COFFEE? What was she THINKING?? Remember when Chandler is stuck in the ATM with the Supermodel in that famous "Friends" episode, and she asks if he'd like gum, and he says "That would be perfection." Then he agonizes over it for a half hour. Well, that was us, except our agony took form in our calves. "Do you want your coffee." Would you like a jab in the eye with a spork?? Sheesh.

Anyhow, we get onto the grass, drop our stuff, and after a mild two lap warm up, we moved back to the grass for another fitness test. Push ups: 60, sit ups, 45. Abs were WAY hurting, even after a weekend off. But of course, I had not a clue as to what was coming, so I worked my heart (er, abs?) off on those.

"OK. TWO LAPS. TIMED RUNS. 100% EFFORT. GO."

And we ran. Gotta tell ya, for all the times we've done laps around this sheep meadow, I haven't seen one freakin' sheep. I haven't even seen something that vaguely RESEMBLES a sheep. Why is it called the sheep meadow? WERE there sheep there at one point? Did they all get picked up by that giant crane on our workout field? I think I'm going to take a plush sheep and stick it in the middle of the field tomorrow, just to make myself feel better.

As we came around the last bend, Instructor Walston was there with his stopwatch, measuring our time on the lap. Without knowing I was being timed, I ran a 10:21. Not TOO shabby, I don't think. Er, I hope.

Next up... 500 eight-count bodybuilders. 500 chase-the-rabbits, and 300 leg extensions. Sounds difficult, right? I'd have about as much chance of finishing all of those in one shot in the time alloted as I would of playing Sarah Jessica Parker's new love interest on "Sex and the City." But here's where it got interesting...

We were divided into teams, seven on a team, which meant that no matter how we did them, no matter who did more or less, we had to add up to 1,300 exercises. The goal? Who's stronger at one does more of one, who's faster at another does more of another. End result is to work together, allowing more to be accomplished in less time.

I'll be dammed - It worked. Did I mention we did this in the sandpit? About 14 minutes later, dripping in sweat (and steam coming off our bodies again - weirdest feeling in the world), we got out of the sandpit, to explanations of why teamwork is important, and a minute after that, we were leaving the field, covered in sand, squishing our way back to the outside world, now in full swing. How cool it was! I actually saw myself volunteering to take someone else's last 10 eight-counts, because she was too fatigued to do them. I can't believe it worked! That darn Instructor Walston.

It's amazing, walking back to my apartment after this workout from hell every morning - Covered in sweat, sand, dirt, water, rain, shards of glass, bits of gravel, concrete, leaves... You name it, we're wearing it. Yet we do it, day after day. People stare at us, like we just woke up from a night of sleeping in the park. While it's the furthest thing in the world from sleeping, it is something that not many people get to experience - we're in there every day, killing ourselves, exerting more energy in two hours than most people will exert in a day, and not because we're forced to. We're doing it because we WANT to. It really is awesome to walk back to my apartment building and pass people on the streets who look like they've just rolled over, passing the shower on their way to the bus stop or to the train.

By the time I get into the office, I've taken 2 showers, and exerted more than 1,000 calories, easy. Not bad for before 8:45am, huh? When I get into the office, I'm in an amazing mood... Try it... Call me tomorrow morning. See how I react. Even my mom said something this morning (At least, I think it was a compliment...) She said, "Honey, you don't sound like you're in pain this morning." "Um, thanks, mom... I think."

Anyhow, I don't know... I'm exhausted today - too little sleep last night is finally catching up to me... You can bet that I'll be out like a light, early tonight.

As we all left today, the class briefly touched on what we should do when the class ended on Friday - "Go out drinking Friday night" seems to be the overwhelming favorite. What do you bet we'll survive one beer before passing out from exhaustion, if that?

Rumor has it that tomorrow and Wednesday are the two toughest days in the course. If so, I'll let you know, blow by painful blow.

"Do you want your coffee?" Sheesh.

Four days to go. :)

-Peter

Subject: Boot camp - Day seven: Topless Television
Date: 05.22.01

“Back home, that’s what we’d call an overcooked Ham.”
Dynamics Officer, (Gerry Griffin) referring to David Drumlin (Tom Skerritt) when Drumlin is showing off for the TV cameras filming the first test of the built object.
Contact (1997)

First of all, it freakin’ POURED this morning. There. That should set the tone.

According to my parents, when I was younger, I always had to be the center of attention. Makes sense, I had all the telltale signs – I was an only child, I was a precocious (read: never did anything the normal way) kid, always figuring out new ways to accomplish typical things. Mom often relays a story of a nursery school teacher of mine, who put it best: “Peter will either be President of the United States, or wind up in jail for a very long time.” Anyhow, I enjoy being the center of attention. It’s fun.

Today, I learned that Instructor Walston and I share a common bond.

A little background: I’m in Public Relations. My job is to get the media to cover stories that I think interesting. If I’m doing my job well, the media thinks the stories are interesting as well, and agrees to lend column space, airtime, celluloid, whatever, to tell that story. And I’m not embarrassed to say it: I do my job exceptionally well.

So, a week or so before I started this course, I called up a health reporter that I know who works for Reuters, and suggested to her that she might get a good story out of the misery through which we’d surely be going.

She seemed to be interested – and sure enough, called me last week to confirm the start time of the morning class.

“Only one rule,” I told her. You can’t KNOW me. You can’t recognize me, pay me any special attention, or talk to me. I want to be invisible. If you get me on camera, fine, but I’m one of the rest of the students in that class (now down to 27, I think…) I’m no one special, just because we’ve worked together in the past.

She promised me no special treatment whatsoever, and she showed up this morning, honoring her word as she filmed the entire class with a cameraman and a sound man. She showed me no special treatment whatsoever, ignoring me, smiling at me only once, when I happened to catch her eye. And I appreciated that.

Instructor Walston, however, found Reuters’ primitive video capture and replay device an interesting study, and decided to put it to what he believed to be the best use possible.

Today’s class was three times harder than it has EVER been.

As I mentioned, it poured. That was our first start.

I arrived first to the gathering point this morning, and kept hearing calls of “Yo!” and “Peter!” Had no idea where they were coming from, and it being 4:30, and me being nowhere near a level of awake, decided it best to just stay where I was, and not move.

As people started arriving, a few of them asked me why I didn’t join them in their nice, dry, and warm cars, when they called me. Duh.

Everyone arrived, minus four people, (quitters, on the back of the oar tomorrow,) and as we jogged to the baseball fields (note, not the workout field) and past the Reuters cameraman, the gray mist of a morning not quite yet upon us enveloped our team, urging us on to the unknown.

Arriving on the field, we jogged to the opposite side, and lined up, ready to be greeted by Instructor Walston. We were all searching the field, nervously switching from foot to foot, waiting for him to appear. Someone nervously whispered, “there he is,” and like the Cheetah running into the woods to face down a very frightened Antelope, Instructor Walston came sprinting across the entire length of the ball field, asking, as always, for the count.

Something was different today. This early in the morning, we couldn’t place it. But it didn’t take long to realize. Two warm-up laps around the field, and we were back to where we started, if for no other reason than to drop and start doing push ups.

Getting back to our feet, it took us too long to get there. We had to do Bear Crawls (knuckles and feet) across the entire field. We didn’t even get our customary ten-eight count warm up, he went right into “across the field.” As we lay dying on the other side, we paired up into groups of three, and learned (in under 30 seconds) how to carry a wounded (or dead) soldier out of the battlefield.

I was paired up with two women who combined, probably weighed what I did. Smartly, I suggested that one of them be the carriee, and myself and the other one be the carrier, then they rotate off. The goal was them not having to carry me, thereby effectively ending their chances of being selected the “Young Woman Who Can Stand Up Straight” Award Winner for 2001. I’m gracious, if I’m nothing else.

To one side of the field we went, with a run at top speed back, to do it again. Both times, we managed to carry our wounded soldier over to the other side, walking as fast as possible.

You could see the teamwork lesson of yesterday start to pay off – As we approached the other side, three class members who’d finished their carry before us split up to help incoming members out. Mike came up and grabbed the legs of our soldier, making the carry a bit easier.

Steam was shooting off our bodies fast enough to fill the floor for a Saturday night at Soul Train, and it wasn’t even 5:35 in the morning. One woman in the group passed out, quickly reviving with water, and even joining us for the rest of the workout.

“LINE UP IN FORMATION. TOO SLOW. CHASE THE RABBITS ON THE MOVE. TO THE OTHER END OF THE FIELD.”

And back we went, one hand in front of the other, one leg in front of the other. Panting, cursing, sweat dripping down our bodies, intermingling with the rain soaked mud and grass, turning my sweatpant legs into twenty-pound deadweights. At one point I looked over to my right, where a few classmates were staring at me, whispering, “YOU brought the media, didn’t you?” All of a sudden, I felt like I had Instructor Walston, “So, do you want your coffee,” but followed it up with “dumbass?” What had I done? I’d brought the media, and Instructor Walston decided that they were going to film brutality the likes of which hasn’t been seen since the LA riots. I’m so glad I do my freakin’ job so perfectly let me tell you. I bring a news crew; Instructor Walston turns into Instructor Lucifer.  I would have hated me, too.

It was after we collapsed on the other side that we were introduced to “walking push ups.” Basically, you do a push up, bear-crawl two steps, and do another one. Shampoo, rinse, and repeat. Well, any excess energy we had reserved in our bodies, like, from the time we were three up until this morning, was depleted. This was tough, and it took everything I had. At first, it seemed relatively easy. Slow and steady. But it got harder. And harder. My muscles ceased to understand how to turn oxygen into energy, and the simple task of keeping my eyes focused straight ahead caused considerable pain and burning in my neck, shoulders, and back. Not pain as in, “I threw something out,” but pain as in, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO ME AND WHY HAVE WE NEVER DONE IT BEFORE?”

Looking at my blood-red hands, and feeling my wrists clenched and locked in a 90-degree angle, I honestly, for the first time, doubted whether I could finish the exercise set in front of me. Funnily enough, my only thought was, “I’ve been telling everyone how awesome this class is, leave it to me to drop dead on International television.”

I don’t know how I pulled that exercise off… Maybe I focused on the people who’d already finished, and imagined them pulling an imaginary rope attached to my waist. Or maybe I just knew I didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t going to quit, and I CERTAINLY wasn’t going to give the 500+ people on this list, plus the at LEAST 500 pass-alongs the satisfaction of my giving up. Like I’ve said previously – I can only control so much shit in my life – but that which I can control, I’ll be DAMNED if I’m going to let pass me by.

So I got to the other side. I honestly didn’t know if I’d ever catch my breath again. Obviously, I did, because I was able to hear Instructor Walston’s next instruction:

“MEN: ONE LINE. WOMEN: ANOTHER LINE. OPPOSITE ENDS OF THE BASEBALL DIAMOND.”

This was interesting – Up until now, we’ve been treated as a class. What was up with the sudden segregation?

We got into our line, waiting eagerly, if not a bit confused, for the next instruction.

“SHIRTS OFF.”

Say what now?

“SHIRTS OFF. WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE, DEAF?” LETS GO! DON’T LOOK AT ME, DON’T ASK QUESTIONS. SHIRTS OFF.”

OK. Let’s talk for a second. The concept of me taking my shirt off a) in front of 30 or so people I didn’t know, b) in 51 degree weather, c) in the RAIN, and d) without any idea why, was so foreign of a concept to me, that I honestly think it took a few extra seconds just to comprehend what he had asked us to do.

That lasted all of three seconds however, and I found myself raising my long sleeve shirt, and then my t-shirt on top of it, above my head, to place it on the ground next to me. Something interesting. Ever tried to take off a long sleeve shirt with a t-shirt on top of it, at the same time, when you’re SOAKING WET? I just have this image of me standing there with my shirt halfway over my head, looking like a netted Mallard.

Finally rid of the shirt, we received the instruction we SO didn’t want to hear.

“ON THE GROUND. ON YOUR BACKS.” And down we went, into what HAD to be at least one inch of water from the rain, and the mud underneath that. There is no level of suckage to accurately describe the level at which those first ten seconds sucked.

Strangely enough, once we got through the initial shock of, “So, I’m lying topless on a muddy, cold, and wet baseball diamond with eight other guys I’ve never met,” it was actually relaxing for a second – the fact was, we were laying down – no matter how strange it might have looked.

While I enjoyed the brief few seconds of rest, it wasn’t to last.

“FEET UP SIX INCHES OFF THE GROUND. HEAD OFF TWO INCHES OFF THE GROUND. HOLD THEM THERE.”

And we did. You ever want to see your abs? I mean REALLY see your abs, to the point that any closer inspection would require a scalpel? Lie on the ground topless, and lift your legs six inches and hold them there. You’d swear you see them growing as you watch.

“TURN AROUND. ON YOUR STOMACHS.”

That was as much fun as our first dive into the mud on our backs. But, lying there, we lifted our heads to an amazing site – Across the baseball diamond were the rest of our classmates – The ones wearing Sportbras. Shirts off, Sportbras covered in mud, doing EXACTLY the same exercise that we were.

Let’s understand something. In some respects, I’m not your typical guy – I can openly admit when I think another man looks hot. I ask for directions. I like Classical music, and I cried when the entire class rallied behind Donna Martin to make sure she graduated with the rest of her class on Beverly Hills, 90210.

But in other respects, I’m just an average man. If an open copy of Playboy is on the table as I pass it, yes, I’ll slow my trot to a cantor. (or is it slow my cantor to a trot?) If there’s a gorgeous woman walking down the street, I’ll probably notice.

Based on that logic, one would suppose that staring across a baseball diamond at 18 or so women, soaking wet, muddy, and wearing Sportbras, would, if nothing else, at the very LEAST, make me think, “Hey! There are 18 or so women, soaking wet, muddy, and wearing Sportbras across from me! Cool!”

 But… no. Not even close.

All I saw, through my mud-encrusted eyes, was 18 or so more members of my class, doing the same thing over there that we were doing over here. Nothing more. In fact, it didn’t even hit me until someone else brought it up, as we were walking out of the park. She mentioned that she found it odd that we were even separated in the first place, and I agreed with her. I mean, what’s the point? We’re all adults in the class, and we’re all taking it out of our own free will. If someone didn’t want to do it, they probably didn’t have to, and could have probably done it with their shirt on.

Personally, for those who know my body-image issues, I think I probably had a harder time taking off my shirt than 90% of the women there did. But that’s another rant for another time.

Jumping up after leg extensions, sit ups, and swimmers, we had 5 seconds to get our shirts back on and get back into formation.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to put on 2 shirts, one on top of the other, when both are soaking wet and covered in mud? Very hard. Let’s leave it at that. I wound up throwing the long sleeve shirt on the ground and pulling the short sleeve shirt out of it, wearing only that.

Back to formation, we did sit ups. Actually, we did six hundred ten sit ups. I kid you not. After a while, I was getting one out of every three. Ever try doing sit ups when your back is COVERED in mud and sand? Try it. You’ll never need a loofah AGAIN. Got home and took a shower, and the skin just washed right off. On the plus side, my I don’t think my Spine has ever looked so good.

Six hundred push ups later, and the class was over. Instructor Walston asked a few people to stay behind and talk to the Reuters crew.

Me, I booked out of there like I hadn’t done since Junior High School when four kids were looking for me to beat me up.

OK, that’s not 100% true. But I did apologize profusely for bringing the media. No one was really mad, just… amused.

When you think about it, though – we pushed ourselves harder than we ever have. And it was great. I walked back to my apartment with a woman in the class, and we stopped into Starbucks, not so much for the coffee, but to walk into a store at 5 minutes to seven in the morning, covered in mud from our head to our toes, and never in our lives feeling as good as we felt right there.

Each day we push ourselves further and further. We don’t think we can, but we do. And it’s so amazingly wonderful – that’s really the only way I can describe it – When we’re in the middle of it, it sucks. We wonder why we’re doing it. We ask ourselves if we can go on – sometimes, we don’t think we can. But somehow, someway, we do. And we rejoice when it’s over, not only because it’s over, but because we proved it – not to our friends, not to our family, not to our bosses or clients, but to OURSELVES.

We prove to ourselves that we can do something that we didn’t think we could do. The outside forces don’t matter – We achieve or don’t achieve these things not because of the economy, or the stock market, or the way the world is treating us. We do it or don’t do it because we make the choice to. It’s that simple.

Every day, that message gets pounded into my wet, muddy brain. And for that, I’m eternally grateful.

Three more days. I don’t want it to end. I really don’t.

More tomorrow.

-Peter

PS: Turns out, even though they say it isn’t, the SportBrain seems to be waterproof. I mean, I got it SOAKED today, and I came home, and got over 15,000 steps uploaded without a problem. Cool!

PPS: Yes, I know it was Chandler trapped in the ATM with Jill Goodacre, and not Ross. Thank you, the ten people who emailed me, catching my mistake.

Subject: Boot camp - Day Eight: Humor Reservoir
Date: 05.23.01

-Peter

Subject: Boot camp - Day Nine: 57:59
Date: 05.24.01

"Get up, Trinity. Get... up."
-Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss)
The Matrix

The morning started off typically. I got up, I took a shower, I got dressed in the dark, and headed downstairs. Caught a cab, arrived at 63rd St., watched as everyone else showed up.

But I made it. Panting, sweating, half dead, I came in 6th, and ran back to start helping the other people who were behind me. It’s all about that teamwork thing.

I looked up, and all of a sudden, we were at 90th Street on the East Side. We'd already passed the entrance to the Reservoir, and I hadn't even noticed! That was a bonus! As we kept plodding on, I was even able to start putting together relatively straightforward sentences, and sound more or less human.

As we hit 100th St., and that MONSTER hill past it, I noticed my heart rate had slowed down considerably. I was running, in step with Sally, keeping up, and was able to talk… I wasn't breathing hard, I was still puffing, but didn't sound like an aneurysm was expected anytime soon…

The next thing I knew, we were climbing the monster Central Park hill, and then, like it was nothing, we were back at 96th Street on the WEST side! We'd made it more than half way! I really was shocked. I never expected I'd make it even THIS far, let alone, still breathing and under my own power.

We hit 79th St., on our way back to 63rd, and I noticed a runner up ahead, alone. She was one of us, she had the t-shirt. But where was her partner? First rule of Navy SEAL PT Training You NEVER leave a man behind. (Or in this case, ahead.) I couldn't believe what I was saying and agreeing to, but as sure as I was running, Mike and I sped up, and caught up to Dorothy, a good 500 yards in front of us.

-Peter

Subject: Boot camp - Day Ten: 8-Count Introspective
Date: 05.25.01

As for me, I’m sending my employees home early for the long weekend, packing up my junk, heading back to my apartment, and sitting in the building’s Sauna for next hour. I think I deserve it.

HOO-YAA!!! I DID IT!!!!