I will run the race set before me

Entry posted by shadow460 December 24, 2007

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October 1983:

"Daddy, where's Mommy?"

"Son, she's not coming home. She passed away in the hospital last night."

Ten years later, summer 1993:

I was running with my training division in boot camp, and I fell behind. The task was to run one mile at a speed set by a drill instructor. The pace was perhaps fast enough to run the mile in ten minutes or so. Two fellow soldiers wrapped a towel around me and pulled me along--all I had to do was bear my own weight. I didn't actually have to put any drive into my steps. I screamed for them to let me go.

Maybe this was the beginning of what's going on in my life. Maybe this was the beginning of my "problems". Maybe this 17 year old boy couldn't make it to the end because he'd lost his mommy almost ten years ago.

Not long after that, our company entered a command wide track meet. I was entered into a four man relay race. Each person's stretch was short--less than half a mile. That meant that sprinting would play a major role in the team's performance. I remember beginning the sprint too early. Thought I thought I was going to die, I sprinted under full power to the next man. I do not remember how we finished, but I believe overall my company finished in the top three. I was made a part of that because people believe in my effort to correct my difficulty on the track.

That same year I did not pass the final physical test to graduate boot camp. I did, however, exceed the fleet standards and was allowed to graduate about a week behind my company. Once again, someone, somewhere, believed that I could, and did, correct my deficiency. They believed in me.

Years later I wonder what that deficiency is. I sit at home, I have no job right now. I've been unemployed for the longest period in my life, and my actions are threatening what income my wife and I have left. In boot camp, I nearly failed the entire company of 83 people. They still put me into critical positions, and after I joined the fleet, I was put into vital roles there as well. I saved my ship a mine hit with the help of two other people. That could have saved thousands of lives alone. The responsibility of providing electricity to the entire ship fell on my shoulders more than once. I was part of the fire party that extinguished burning diesel generator while the ship was floating almost dead in the water.

What makes a person trust someone like me with that much responsibility? Why can a person who can save a multi million dollar aircraft carrier not be able to take care of his own wife? Is it Gulf War sickness? Did they still have that going around in 1996? Did something I encountered while in the Navy (besides domestic problems) affect me in this way and program me to have trouble later in life?

If five thousand people were able to depend on me without even knowing who I was, how can it be that I'm not sure if one person to whom I've tried to reveal everything will believe in me? How can I not be sure of that when I know that two people depended on me when the electrical shop caught on fire? How can I be so uncertain about my future now when I stood there on a huge Navy base four hours south of DC on 9/11 thinking Al Quaida was going to hand my @$$ to me? I survived that, but why can't I survive the everyday trouble of married life?

I believe that my daddy holds the key to some of what I'm going through. He probably doesn't know that I think that way. Heck, I could be totally wrong about it. He just tells me that he doesn't know what to tell me. He's honest, but I hope he doesn't take this information to his grave.

I have a brother who's two years older than me. He was sitting on the floor next to me when we got the news of our mother. He's still single. Although he's been in some serious relationships, he's never tied the knot.

Why are we different, then? Does that two years between eight and ten make that much difference in someone's development? Or was it because, like many couples, each parent chooses a kid and I was Mama's boy?

How much damage will I do to another life? I can assure that some kinds of damage won't be done: Physical damage won't be done, and I'm not the kind to purposely swear or yell at someone. But that doesn't rule out all kinds of damage, though. Will we wind up on the street? How much are we going to have to draw from other people? I know we are going to need help--heck if I caved to the idea that I was sick just the medical expenses alone would crush the finances of two families that make what we'd be making if both of use were employed.

On top of that, one of the people who took me to the hospital doesn't really think much of the place where I was taken, and doesn't trust their judgement. Oh, joy!

Still, I keep pressing forward to finish the race. I run faster, and I cry out when my friends have to carry me. I still remember how hard I fought those two men who carried me that day. I still remember how hard I tried after that, and how much it hurt me physically. I still have physical scars from it, too, and it affects the way I walk even today. I gave it my absolute best shot, and my body is permanently damaged because of that. I can wear those scars like badges that honor my determination. I also remember the two men who carried me during that one mile run. One was a stocky black man who was our company master at arms, and the other was a tall, lanky white guy who was going into the Seabees' construction program. I remember the master at arms telling me to keep going, don't stop, or "we're going to drag you."

Even though I have cried out from the pain, I hope my friends are willing to drag me if necessary. I was awakened yesterday to the fact that I can't just alienate them any more than I could have willed my fellow soldiers away that morning, either.

I guess if the past is any indication, then the people who are carrying me today will fight to my own death to keep me going. On my right I believe my God is encouraging me to carry on, to keep going and never give up. On my left is my wife, perhaps not knowing what to say, but still giving out full support and never letting go of her side of that old white towel that's probably still what they are carrying me with.

Out of 83 people, I'd say more than half of them wanted me to pass boot camp. I do not know how many people there are out there who want me to complete a full life.

My daddy may know what the probability is that I will give in to my emotional problems. No, on the other hand, those emotional problems will give in to me.