It's not about the bike......or the medals

     Two of my extended family members (Army and Iraq brother and sister) supported me today.  Both have deployed a cumulative 5 times since 2002.  Daniel and Michelle Ramos.  We get caught up since the last time we saw each other.  Dan had a tough time during his last deployment.  Company Commander leading Soldiers.  He shared quite a few stories with me.  All too familiar.  I asked Dan if he received an XYZ medal.  I should have known that Dan's answer was it's not about the medals (or "salad" for those old timers, as in mucho colorful medals on your chest).  The answer was simple.  We both knew the answer.  See folks, our nations finest "get it".  They understand it.  It's not about the medals but serving your country, the journey, the memories.....the PEOPLE.  Serving is about people.  What he holds dear are the emails, those phone calls or just a simple "great job sir" from one of his Soldiers.  You can't wear that on your uniform but you can sure as hell wear it underneath.
   That reminds me of a good ole 1/8 CAV medic I had the privilege of leading.  SPC Kacoroski.  Call him Ski.  Ski was an outstanding medic, physical fitness stud and good looking man.  The full package.  After Iraq you keep in contact with a handful of folks but most go their own way, new assignments or civilian life.  In May of 2006 while stationed at Fort Sam Houston guess who gives me a call?  Yeppers, SGT Ski.  He just won the 2006 United States Army Best Medic Competition.  He competed against the Army's top medics throughout the force.  Special Ops, Rangers, Conventional forces, etc.  Ski won.  He was hoping to see me that night.  Of course brother.  We meet for dinner at Outback Steak House.  Ski was friggin' fit.  You know what Ski said to me?  "Sir, it is because of you that I started running.  Without running I would not have won that competiton".  I wear that medal proudly. 
     Ski went his own way, I went mine.  In 2009 my phone rang again.  Guess who?  Cadet Kacoroski.  Ski was on his last semester of College at Pacific Lutheran University.  Art was Ski's gift.  His graduating piece of art is the next picture below.  And I quote "Still in Washington, going to school at PLU and doing ROTC. This coming May I’ll be done with school. I’m an Art Major of all things. This is a piece I’m working on in Honor of Burk, Odums, and all the men and women we’ve lost over there. It’s not finished yet, I’ll send you a pic when it’s complete." 

I know brother, I know.  Only the Medics.

     Ski would later ask me to administer the oath of office bestowing him a Commissioned Officer of the United State Army.  Angelina and the kids made the flight to see me bring this outstanding Soldier into the ranks as an Officer in the United States Army.  You can see the great young man below.  My inbox had a message from Ski last month.  He is off to RANGER school.  Brother, I do wish you luck and god speed.  I have a few medals that no one will ever see.

     Come to think of it.  I know of another Warrior that has some medals he wishes he didn't have.  His name is SFC Karl Pasco.  Fellow Mustang and two time Purple Heart receipient.  Some of you may know SFC Pasco.  He spoke at our Victory 400 launch party at Auden's kitchen a few months back.  Great, great American.  Never complains, never moans...just keeps Soldiering on.  I wonder what his eyes have seen?  I'm not posting a picture of SFC Pasco.  You will just have to come out and watch him run in with me to HEB at the Alon tomorrow.  Tomorrow is for your Karl.  I love you like a brother.  Lace 'em up brother, we are taking Victory 400 home and I'm picking a fight baby and bringing 40+ Alamo Crossfitters who got your back....a fight gone bad.  For Alamo Crossfit.  For our tribe and FOR THE WARRIORS.

Mustang 27 ancient signing off the net.  out.   

Iraq, Crossfit and Victory 400

     Why Victory 400?  Running 310 miles over 9 days.  What gives Mike?  Sit back, lower the T.V. or close your home office door.  Go get a glass of water.....here we go.  My dad is a Vietnam Veteran.  A United States Marine.  He was in northern Vietnam operating in and around the Chu Li river conducting combat operations.  Talk of Vietnam was almost nonexistent.  Sure he'd tell me stories of firefights, engaging the enemy or pulling his buddies body to safety only to have them die in his arms.  Pops was 19 years old.  Those stories were "cool".  They had the "wow" factor.  Dad was a high school track star and attended East L.A. college.  During his second year of college, he dropped out and enlisted in the Marine Corps.  That was the thing to do.  Growing up, every time we heard the National Anthem play my old man would always say "I get goose bumps every time I hear it".  Whatever dad.  His dad, my grandfather, was a bombardier over the skies of Italy in WWII,  his brother, my dad's uncle, was a Marine who stormed the beaches of Iowa Jima and engaged the enemy in hand to hand combat (Uncle Gus is his name) and he has the scars to prove it.  When I buried my grandmother in 2003, I met another uncle (his name escapes me, dammit Mike) who was with the 1st Cavalry Division, Air Mobile, 7th Cavalry Regiment, Garry Owen.  A door gunner on a UH-1H.  I can only wonder what their eyes have seen.
     Our family is not special.  There are families out there that have military lineage dating back to WWI and earlier.  My brother Rick was the first to enlist and I followed in 1992.  Little did I know that serving in Iraq would forever change my life.  Odum's death was life changing but the first fallen American you see in the flesh is a burned image that no matter how hard you try to blank your mind, that mental picture will never fade, never blow away, never get lost, never misplaced.  I can still see this young man's body laying there.  While putting his personal effects into a bag I couldn't help but think that he put his own wallet in his pocket with his own hand hours before.  And here I am putting his personal affects into a bag.  Seeing it only once is enough.  I wonder if his buddies held him before he died.
     The idea for a fundraiser benefiting our servicemen and women weighed heavily on me for years.  Once I pitched the idea to Rick last summer the only stipulation was to utilize the Crossfit way.  Ok, done deal.  I can swing from a bar, lift a bar over my head and swing a kettlebell while combining my passion to continue to give back to our country, while looking great naked, learning to Crossfit with my love of running as the anchor....well...a winning combination.  If you just talk to your fellow Crossfitters you'll find Crossfit has seriously changed lives.  Transforming good Americans to be more confident, physically stronger, healthier, lose weight...insert your personal favorite.  Crossfit is the way to go.  And those hero WODs...Forgit a' about it.  Hero WOD's are our way to pay our respect and never forget those hereos that made the ultimate sacrifice so we may continue to live freely.  
     American servicemen and women, Crossfit and Victory 400.  Great Americans and a noble cause.  I can think of many a great Americans.  Pat Tillman comes to mind.  A patriot who felt the need to serve.  The picture below is an article I saved about Pat and his decision to join the military.  I've kept that article from July 2002.  That piece of parchment was taped on my bathroom mirror along with pictures of SGT Kieth and SGT Clemons as motivation to the "why" of Victory 400.
     Being nice, respectful, cordial or just smile at your fellow American costs you nothing.  Free.  Libre.  Do something nice for someone.  Come to think of it, doing something nice for someone is one of my personal rules of the day.  But that's another story.  Tomorrow is for the Pat Tillman's of the world, the uncle that you had no idea they served, the Crossfitter that got just one more kip or for that person you opened the door for despite them not saying thanks.  About those goosebumps my dad gets when he hears the National Anthem.  Well, I get them too now along with a huge lump in my throat.  Every time.  For the Great Americans.  Football is on baby, first and ten and I'm throwing a 38 mile Hail Mary pass smack into New Braunfels.

Victory 400, Leg 7 complete

     For you SGT Clemons.  I went as fast as I could brother.  Sending you positive vibes from Texas.  Good luck with the paralympics.  God Bless. 

Does everything happen for a reason?

     Do you know that one person who is always in a good mood?  Always positive?  Just a darn good bolk to be around?  Never complaining, never talking bad about anybody.  You know that person.  I know one.  KC.  No, no, not KC and the Sunshine Band but Kortney Clemons.  SGT (Sergeant) type.  Combat Medic.  KC.  SGT Clemons is from Mississippi where he'll tell you that he owns a house right next door to his parents.  He walks out the front door makes a sharp turn and knocks on moms door.  KC was the Bravo Company Senior Medic.  SGT Clemons was "that guy" that always did the right thing when no one was looking.  He made my life easy.  "SGT Clemons is in charge?  Great, that's all I need to hear".  That easy folks.  Great Sergeant, proficient combat medic and good man. 
     On February 21, 2004, on a routine patrol, SGT Clemon's patrol was first on the scene to a military vehicle crash on one of the major highways in South Baghdad.  Kortney did what combat medics do, patched and prepped a Soldier for evacuation.  Once the MEDEVAC (medical evacuation) arrived on site, SGT Clemons and three Soldiers lifted the stretcher and moved towards the waiting bird.  Someone was watching.  As time stood still, an insurgent triggered a command detonated IED (Improvised Explosive Device) directly underneath the moving Soldiers.  Three were killed instantly.  SGT Clemons lost his right leg. 
     Once back in the states I immediately tracked down SGT Clemons at Brooke Army Medical Center going through rehabilitation.  Great seeing him.  Made my heart happy.  It just so happened that on the day I arrived SGT Clemons was to receive his Purple Heart from the Commander of the 1st Cavalry Division, General Peter W. Chiarelli.  Check out the picture below.
     I lost contact with SGT Clemons in 2008.  Life goes on.  It happens.  Last October I attended a conference in Washington D.C. and guess who walked right by me?  SGT Clemons.  Or should I say Kortney. What a funny coincidence, he was going to hunt me down because he needed a character statement for his packet to....drum roll......re-enter service.  He wanted to get involved with All Army Sports.  Never panned out.  As it turned out SGT Kortney Clemons, a right leg amputee took his adversity straight on.  You know what he has been doing since 2005?  Received his undergraduate degree from Penn State, won the 100m in the 2008 Paralympics in Tempe, AZ, featured in the documentary Warrior Champions, meet President Bush and currently attending Grad school at KU.  Only the medics.  Oh, I forgot to mention that he wrote a book in 2008:  Amped: A Soldier's Race for Gold in the Shadow of War . 
     I invited Kortney to run with me into San Antonio.  He agreed with enthusiasm.  I literally just got off the phone with him tonight.  Bad news.  Kortney can't make it.  He is in San Diego just about to go into a team meeting.  Kortney made the United States of American Paralympic Team to go to the World Championships next year.  He was on his way to a training camp in New Zealand.  His event, the 200m. 
    No worries brother.  You are in my prayers.  Tomorrow is for you.  Put on your spikes baby, I'm doing the 26 mile dash straight through the heart of Austin. 

What his eyes have seen...

Sometime earlier this year India (my oldest daughter) and I were shopping in Cedar Park.  As we left a furniture store I noticed an old timer sitting on a bench.  This was not your ordinary old-timer, he was wearing a RANGER hat.  A United States Army Ranger is an elite Soldier trained in small unit tactics.  When a mission needs a-doing, you call in the Rangers.  Only two ways a United States Army Soldier can call themselves a Ranger:  Go to Ranger School or go to a Ranger Battalion.  Call it a patriotic habit but I walked over with Indy and thanked him for his service.  We chatted for quite a while.  He was actually there.  With the Rangers at Point du Hoc on D-day.  He talked about his buddies, the training, the beach head.  Incredible.  I wondered what his eyes had seen.  This man who was waiting for his daughter to finish shopping, just sitting, made history 66 years ago.  What I read in books he lived in life.  What his eyes had seen.  Fast forward to post Mike Martinez Iraq.  Upon my return the need to get "caught up" on all the ultra marathons I missed bite me hard.  About half way through my first ultra, I wept.  I cried.  I can't tell you why.  Just happened.  A month later during my second ultra marathon, I cried and wept again.  Beats me why.  The following month during a 50k I cried like no one's business.  Such a beautiful day on the trail and all that streamed were my tears.  No clue, just happens.  Private moments really.  Eventually I let Angelina in on my secret.  What could she say?  Was I crying for Odums?  For Burk?  For the lives lost?  For the things I saw?  Don't know.  Were my tears a release for what my eyes had seen?
My good friend, my Iraq brother, Mike Stevens flew in from Kentucky to run a day with me.  That day was today.  We talk about Iraq frequently.  I know what his eyes have seen.  Our conversations are soothing and comforting.  My Chesire cat smile is obvious.  Deep down I know Mike, though no physical scars, harbors deep scars that only a few understand.  Attempting to relay such emotion to someone who isn't affiliated to the military will never get it.  Or understand it.  That's ok.  No one expects you to understand.  We like to keep what we've all seen private.  Much safer.....and smarter.  As for that old-timer sitting outside the store looking out into the distance telling me and Indy stories...I think I have an idea what his eyes have seen.  Chill out old-timer, enjoy your grand kids, I am lacing up my boots for you, Mikey and all those Warriors who have scars we can't see.  Tomorrow, I'm taking Point-du-Hoc Cedar Park style.   

Day 5 complete, for SGT Keith

CPT Michael Stevens, SSG John Kieth, CPT Michael Martinez and SFC Karl Pasco

1/8 CAV, 1st CAV Division

                                      

I am a Medic and I hate running......sir

The Department of the Army decided to send me to Fort Hood, Texas.  1/8 Cavalry Regiment, 2nd  Brigade Combat Team, 1st Calvary Division to be exact.  My first assignment as an Army Officer, Medical Platoon Leader of 30+ EMT certified, advanced medical schooling studs.  The Army lied.  I remember one of the first days meeting my Soldiers:  one had a black eye and a huge welt on the back of his head.  I asked the trooper "what happened to you".  He replied "I got into a fight last night sir".  "With who trooper?"  My roommate and best friend standing right next to me".  Only the medics.  A handful of the Soldiers smoked cigarettes, some were single, some married and they all hated running.  Huh?  You mean to tell me that these Soldiers who WILL save lives on the battlefield dislike physical fitness?  Doesn't add up.  At least I thought it didn't.  Enter SGT John Kieth.  A southern man who would probably like nothing better than sippin' sweet tea on the porch.  Big fella, heart of gold and an old school NCO.  Old school as in been there done that and been around long enough to know how things are done.  Yes, SGT Kieth hated running.  Come to think of it, I don't think I ever saw SGT Kieth run once.  Seriously.  SGT Kieth was the Alpha Company Senior Medic.  Whatever Alpha Company needed, he ensured the troopers were squared away.
In November of 2004, his patrol came under attack.  An RPG hit his armored vehicle.  SGT Kieth exited the vehicle, observed his left leg dangling and self-administered morphine.  One of his good friends and fellow medics showed up and took charge.  SGT Kieth would later have his leg amputated.  The below picture is SGT Kieth and I in the summer of 2005.  Sorry bastard in a wheel chair and still not running!  Wait a second...let me correct myself.  In 2005, SGT Kieth completed the New York City Marathon in a hand crank bike.  You can read about it here.  If I had know he'd have to lose his leg to start running I would have let Pam know a long time ago.  Maybe we could have tied his legs together as one.  Well John, tomorrow is for you brother.  Enjoy your sweet tea with Pam, Alyssa and J.P..  I'm doing the Victory 400 44 mile marathon and I'm taking it to Fort Hood.  Mustangs.  First Team.  For the Warriors.

The Combat Medics of 1/8 CAV, Operation Iraqi Freedom II