Let us never forget.

JFK's famous words at Arlington National Cemetery

I’m annoyed this Memorial Day.  On the front page of my hometown paper there is a huge headline, “Memories of War.”  This article features four gentlemen who served for our country…in WWII.  Now while I know that their sacrifices are honorable and deserving respect it perturbs me that this completed the entirety of the coverage. 

I know one of the reasons I'm out here is to show the troops fighting these wars that they are not forgotten, but here in my hometown newspaper is proof that to some they are.  Here are four accounts that are nostalgic, but unrelatable to most of today’s population as the men discuss their war stories from 1944.  Have we forgotten that there are men and women still dying for us TODAY?

Where are the stories this Memorial Day from a soldier, airman, marine, sailor, who just returned from Iraq or Afghanistan?

There are also three editorials in the paper, two of three which mention have no mention of Iraq or Afghanistan.  I think we are doing a disservice to ourselves if this Memorial Day we just sit back and only think of these old troops who are enjoying their golden years, but still haunted by memories of their time at war.  They get to have their golden years.  

We also need to remember this Memorial Day the men and women who lost their lives this past year, and the past ten years. 

Temporary headstones and newly made plots at Arlington eerily waiting for casualties from Iraq and Afghanistan to fill them

The ones who will never get to see their daughter or son grow up.  The ones who were never even old enough to legally drink a beer.  The ones who fought hard and laid down their life for a friend.  The ones who never saw it coming.  The ones who suffered.  The ones who now live, but without a limb.  The ones who have seen a friend die right beside them, but still go out the next day to that same place to do their job.

Along with our WWII and Vietnam veterans we need to remember these men and women, our Iraq and Afghanistan veterans.  We need to not let a day go by that we don’t think about our troops, because that one day you forgot that they are out here at least one family is heartbroken because their brother, sister, son, daughter, husband, wife, friend has been killed.

Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

I encourage everyone to join the Facebook group, “Military Wall of Honor.”  It is a group that posts about every troop that perishes in Iraq and Afghanistan.  After posting the war casualty, this dedicated group of volunteers then tries to find as much information as possible about the deceased to make them real to all of us.  They put up pictures from their Facebook profile pics and list comments that people have left on the deceased’s wall.  They also tell the official story of how they paid the ultimate sacrifice for us. 

As I scroll through my news feed laughing at the latest pictures of my friend’s bar hopping or stalking someone’s statuses, I’ll come across a Military Wall of Honor posting.  For a moment when I see that young face of a smiling troop looking back at me, I am reminded he or she is gone now.  I always take a second, even if it is just a second, to say a prayer for the fallen troop and their family and loved ones.  In that moment they are not forgotten.

This is a link to the story, "The Marble of our Heroes' Headstones" shown on CBS News Sunday Morning about the creation of headstones at national cemeteries.  It features the creation of Daren Hidalgo's headstone.

My Boys

I found myself a family in Afghanistan.  They’re a smellier, more foul mouthed, definitely more male version, than my family back home, but they’ll do just fine.  Being one of three girls in my immediate family and one of a gaggle of mostly female grandchildren, I always secretly longed for a big brother, well doesn’t God have a funny sense of humor, now I have about 25 of them…who are armed and dangerous. 

I arrived in Afghanistan on September 30 and on October 31 I met some G Co.  More than a thousand soldiers come in our center’s doors everyday, but these guys, 3^rd Squadron, 2^nd Stryker Calvary Regiment, Ghost Company, (G Co for short) there is just something about them, like a mold that rapidly grows and seems annoying at first but then you realize it's really penicillin that's amazingly awesome and saves lives.

Gentry and Hidalgo obviously up to no good on Halloween

 

Cindy and "Butter Bar" Hidalgo on Halloween

It all started when I spotted a wounded warrior who was leaning on crutches looking bored out of his mind, I told him I could offer him a seat if he wanted to volunteer behind the desk.  He took the bait, finding nothing else remotely entertaining to do and became our first G Co volunteer.  That was Gentry.  Then Hidalgo spotted Gentry behind the desk and wondered what he was doing.  I quickly roped him in as well and then Cooper soon followed too.  Hawes, although in H Co, still belongs in the cool kid group because I met him on Halloween with the rest of the guys.  Then although they didn’t volunteer, Perez, Grover and some others started hanging around the USO.  These guys were the first troops that made me laugh harder than anyone I had met out here.  They will do anything I ask of them, although making sure to give me a hard time first, then eventually doing it.  They make fun of me, and get it right back.  They are also fiercely protective, even if they have fun watching me squirm when a creeper approaches.  It was like having instant brothers I never knew I wanted.  All my coworkers came to know the guys and Cindy and Sarah York became close with the crew as well.

Cooper picking on me

Well because soldiers gossip more than high school girls, word must have gone around that the USO has free internet, delicious coffee and some employees with soft spots for G Co and when some more G Co came through for various reasons like stryker maintenance, going on leave, or detainee guard I met some more of the boys: Ortega, Young, Moser, Shaw, Irons, Dalrymple, MacDonald (H Co), Morgan, Sgt V and Garcia to name a few.  They were all like the rest, hilarious, inappropriate, brave, funny, exciting, ridiculous guys.  Then there were our "voluntolds" James, Christiansen, Knutson, and Gaultier, who provided endless entertainment during their stay.  Later on I met Runkle, Goff, Cole and Thompson.  I've become closer with some than others, but with G Co I've had countless DFAC meals, Catchphrase nights, Green Bean runs, Egyptian Rat Screw games and even Young and Moser acted in a video for my friend back home.

Cooper picking on York

Just like family, they were there for me after Hidalgo’s death.  My heart swelled the day after I attended his ramp and at four different times G Co guys came to the USO with heavy hearts but determined souls to break the news to me.  Much to their relief, I already knew.  As I embraced each one I thanked God for the support system he had given me.  Throughout the months the guys have talked to me and made me smile with memories of Hildago and pieces of stories I never knew.  These stories are reassurances to me that this great guy would never be forgotten in any of our minds, and that his example lives on in all of them.

/

Hawes wearing my sweater, lil snug, no?

As I’ve showcased, I have a strong attachment to “my boys.”  Since I arrived at KAF there’s always been one or more here at any given time to annoy, I mean, entertain me.  Almost 7 months I’ve known these guys.  Now they are back at KAF one last time to redeploy (go back to Germany).  A couple days before their arrival Hawes was introducing me to some H Co and he said, “Don’t bother trying to impress her, G Co is her favorite.”

I was so disappointed (okay maybe a lil more than that, pretty much devastated) when I found out their date had been pushed back and I would only get to spend a few days with them before I left for my vacation to come home.  I’d have to leave one family for another.

Young and I eating homemade cookies Bonnie Mattas sent the boys

They’re leaving to go back to their lives.  Although I’m sure I’ll meet other soldiers who will become my friends, none will compare to G Co.  I want for them the absolute best, because they deserve it.  They’ve had to deal with a lot of injuries and death this deployment, but they are all incredibly strong men. All the words in the world couldn’t thank them enough for their service to their country, the sacrifices they have made, the things they have had to endure, and what their friendship has meant to me, but I thought I’d give it a shot.  When I took this job I thought of how much I’d give, I never realized how much I would get.  I picture that scene in The Blindside where one of her rich friends says, “You’re changing that boy’s life.”  She immediately responds, “No, he’s changing mine.”

 

As I’m sure with all the friendships one makes throughout life, some might become life long friends that see me through anything, and some of them will drift away and just become names I see on my Facebook feed.  But even then, I won’t be able to keep myself from cracking a smile.  Because although I may forget specific conversations, or not know their current situation, I’ll never forget the way my boys made me feel…like I wasn’t half way across the world from my family, they were right here.

Toujours Pret.

Reaction Time

After hearing the news, processing it, and writing a blog about it, my journalist instincts kicked in and I wanted to know what everyone else thought about it.  So, I asked.

One of my friends out on a COP said, “When we heard it was like thumbs up, okay back to work.”  Another had his Facebook status say, “So Osama’s gone, but we’re still here, go figure.”  Another soldier expressed his disdain that he has spent 4 years of his life deployed because of this guy, but will not see any proof of his death.  For the most part, everyone here is not reacting.  They’re all just going about their business, because there are still more evil men out there to fight against every day.

Then there are the millions of ridiculous Facebook statuses.  It befuddles me that Facebook is the avenue to have political debate.  If you really wanted to have an intelligent discussion of ideas, that’s what it needs to be, a discussion, not yelling on your wall and then what?  Refreshing your page every 10 minutes to see if anyone responded?  Maybe I’m the only one this annoys, and maybe honestly, I’m being a little hypocritical, after all I write a blog, but I at least try to be sensitive in my writing. 

We worry about the partisan divide in our Congress, well just look at it on an 18 year old’s Facebook walls.  On one point it does encourage me a little that people are getting involved in the debate and taking an interest in the leadership of our nation…but then I read the comments and realize they have no factual information and would rather just tear apart the intelligence and/or mother of the person they are responding to and that feeling of encouragement goes out the window.

It was really interesting to me that people found Bible passages to both support and admonish the celebration of an evil person’s death.

‎"Do not rejoice when your enemy falls, and let not your heart be glad when he stumbles..." - Proverbs 24:17

When the righteous prosper, the city rejoices; when the wicked perish, there are shouts of joy. - Proverbs 11:10

Same book , different chapters, different messages?  Religion confuses me sometimes.

Then there is the wise Dr. King:

‎"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." - Martin Luther King, Jr.

To one of my friend’s statuses that had this Dr. King quote someone had responded, "All it takes for evil to triumph, is for good men to stand by and do nothing." Edmund Burke

There’s just so much to take into consideration, should we feel happy at the death of a ruthless murderer, or sad at the loss of a human life no matter how evil it was? 

It’s hard to be sensible about this when everyday I meet troops who have been injured by the men Osama has trained or instructed to carry out his plans.  I’m still not sure if my feelings are taking the high road or just the easy road, but I think the quote that most sums up my feelings was posted on my coworker/roommate Erin’s facebook status…

‎"I've never wished a man dead, but I've read some obituaries with great pleasure." -Mark Twain.

*Disclaimer* I did not fact check to see if these quotes actually came from these authors; I trusted my Facebook sources, okay so maybe I don't have the greatest journalist instincts.

Far from over

This morning I woke up, went to the bathroom and a female soldier told me, “Did you hear the good news?”  We’ve been on high alert the past few days because of the prisoners escaping in Kandahar, so I assumed she was going to tell me we caught some bad guys and were no longer on alert.  Little did I know she was going to tell me we caught the biggest bad guy.  I was excited, happy, even exuberant.  I thought it was pretty cool that years from now I’ll be able to say, yep I was in Afghanistan when Osama was killed.  I’ve been reading, Where Men Win Glory, and in the book they discuss how close we came to killing Osama at the very beginning of the war, but he escaped due to our poor planning.  I quickly got online and read as many news stories and Facebook status updates as I could.  I saw one person comment on one of my coworker’s Facebook status, “I hope you guys are having a big party.”

Then just like any other day, I put my tennis shoes on one at a time and went to the gym.  While I was there running on the treadmill, they came on with an announcement of a “controlled explosion.”  This happens about every other day, or sometimes three or four times a day.  It basically means they found an IED (improvised explosive device) on base or near base and are now detonating it.  The soldier running next to me stopped on his treadmill and took his ear buds out when he heard the announcement come on, I’m sure he was checking to make sure it wasn’t a more dangerous warning. 

Moments later “The Today Show” came on.  I could not hear it, but I saw pictures of Osama, and video of American crowds cheering.  I looked around me and not a single person was cheering, clapping or celebrating in any form… they were working.  

Our brave men and women who are out here fighting for us, are going about doing what they do, continuing to work out to stay in the best shape, so they can do the best job they can.  I swelled with pride.  It was the proudest moment I have felt while doing my job these 7 months out here.  I get the honor of serving them.  They don't have time for a party, they are continuing to train and fight, because this is far from over.  They might not have been on the mission to assassinate Osama, but in some way each and every single one of them contributed to bring an end to his terrorist reign.  As I ran elated in this sense of awe, I looked at the troops around me and  it was as if suddenly everything else turned blurry, and I focused in on their memorial tattoos and KIA bracelets and then gazed down at my own.

1LT Daren M. Hidalgo

KIA 20 February 2011 Mama Kiriz, Afghanistan

3^rd Squadron, 2^nd Stryker Calvary Regiment

I couldn’t help but think, yeah we got this one bad guy, but at the cost of how many of our good guys?

I thought of all the Americans who now think the war is over.  I got a message from a friend who said, “Does this mean you can come home now?”  Far from it.  The retaliation is sure to be strong, heavy and extremely dangerous. 

As I finished up my run, I heard another announcement, it was the test for the “mass casuality” alarm.   

Happy Birthday to me.

So I turned 26 on April 17.  I’d have to say my best two birthdays were the past two.  I think that says something about my life.  As with New Years, having a birthday makes me reflect on the year that has passed. 

Last year through a discussion with my sister Gretchen, I had an epiphany.  We were talking about people our age being married and having families, and she said, “You know what I wouldn’t want kids right now because I’m having too much fun in life, I wouldn’t be able to go biking for the weekend, or just go on a road trip when I wanted.”  I was shocked to realize I wouldn’t say my life was “fun.”  Most weekends consisted of Law and Order SVU marathons and laundry.  So I decided 25 was going to be different!  I mean what was I waiting for, I had nothing holding me back and if I didn’t love my life who would want to be with or around someone who doesn’t?  Men are not supposed to be some magic anecdote to make life suck less.  I should be able to make my own life awesome!  (Cuz I'm every woman, it's all in me...oooooOOOOoooo, oh Whitney Houston,  you were every woman until you became cracked out)  I wanted my life to be different, more exciting, I wanted to take more chances, and at the same time more wise decisions.  So I made a list. 

1. Learn to swim
2. Rock climb
3. Go ziplining
4. Pay off my credit card
5. Read the bible
6. Get in better shape
7. Run a 5K

The swimming thing didn’t go so well.  I had a couple lessons with my friend Sara, but the whole moving to the desert thing hampered that (not to mention I can only doggie paddle, my bottom half sinks and I have to hold my nose to go under water).  I started going to the gym and fell in love with Zumba due to a really fun and enthusiastic instructor!  (Thanks Michelle!)  I ran a 5K with my family, which I talked about a couple posts ago.  I also made the wise decision that instead of purchasing a plasma tv with my tax refund, I would buy a bike.  I rode around Huntington and made the occasional ride to work, helping me shape up not only the environment but my wallet and tush too! :)

Emboldened by my list, for my 25^th birthday I planned a trip for me and some of my friends to go ziplining at the New River Gorge.  Then Sara and her hubby Heath invited all of us to go to a White Water weekend party and stay at a cabin.  (I love me some hippies!) 

Then I rock climbed for the first time on real rock!  (I had only ever climbed at the wall at the gym before).  It was such a fun weekend!  I’m so grateful for Sara, Heath, Nick and Brian for encouraging me/making me climb.

Gretchen and I looking like major dorks on our bikes

Our zipline tour!

Wahoo!  Chilling on the side of a rock

Running the Pat Tillman 4.2 miler 

Brad

I was feeling great and really loving life.  Professionally, I was doing great as well!  I had an awesome boss who respected my ideas and fantastic coworkers that made every Taco Bell Friday and day in between super fun!  (Thank you Brad for letting me torture you for our amusement! Beth, Ella, Amanda, Adam, Patty, Sabrina, Rebecca, I miss you guys so much!)  I also attended a conference and felt emboldened by the discussion.   I came back to work ready to implement some new ideas.  I was feeling refreshed and like I had it all together.  I could have NEVER imagined my next birthday would be spent in Afghanistan! 

Well, we all know what comes next and if you don’t you can find my list of reasoning in the post, Skemp’s Grand Adventure. I chose to come work for the USO in Afghanistan.  I don’t think I would have had the confidence to accomplish it, if I hadn’t taken the “bulls by the horn” and improved my life on my own to begin with.  I know you have to sometimes give to yourself in order to be able to give to others.

silly string removal process

So after an awesome 25^th birthday, I’m happy to say 26 was amazing as well!  My coworkers and a couple volunteers took me to TGIFridays for dinner.  After someone told the staff it was my birthday (cough Joan, Erin, Duane cough)  they made me stand on a pedestal in the middle of the restaurant and I was told by 5 Pakistani men to “DANCE LIKE SHAKIRA!” with a bottle of non-alcoholic champagne in my hand while they chanted a Happy Birthday song.  The packed restaurant of military personnel stared on.  It was hilarious!  Sarah York’s mom sent me a homemade cake that was delectable!  My sister Angela sent me a Birthday crown to wear.  My parents sent two packages ahead of time (I had to ravenously rip open one of them the day I got it, but the other I waited until my actual birthday).  Then on my actual birthday I walked into work and my boss silly stringed me!  He also bought me an ice cream cake that was delicious!  My coworker Cindy started some soldiers into singing Happy Birthday in the middle of the center at night.  I looked around and just felt really happy. 

Then my eye started to hurt.   It was like someone taking a dull knife and trying to dig out my eyeball while every light that hit my eye felt like an ice pick right to the ol' cornea.  After contemplating that I had no accessories that could possibly go with a pirate patch, my Major friend insisted upon taking me to the hospital here on base and  I found out I had 3 corneal abrasions in my left eye, and some neovascularization which could eventually lead to blindness.  Woot, happy birthday to me, the day I turn 26 I start falling apart.  It’s alright though, my eye is much better now and it was all my fault to begin with.  Apparently when the Army suggests for you not to wear your contacts out here, they weren't being arbitrary, they had a point.

So 26 has a lot to live up to if it wants to be as awesome as 25, but I’m pretty sure it’s up to the challenge!

Sacrifice

I started reading Where Men Win Glory today by Jon Krakauer.  It is the story of Pat Tillman.  I had heard something about Pat Tillman back when he died, but considering I was in my freshman year of college, I had much more important things to do (like eat Taco Bell in ungodly amounts and procrastinate by talking on AIM with my friends back home until ungodly hours) and grossly ignored it.  Recently I ran Pat's Run, a 4.2 mile race in Pat Tillman’s honor.  This got me interested in his story, so my friend Ryan lent me the book to read.

Pat Tillman Race/Marathon Training Side Note/Update: I was super worried since I hadn't run on anything but a treadmill for 7 months, but Aaron signed me up for the run and then told me he did later, so I had no choice.  But I did well, 36.05 not too shabby for just starting out.  Most importantly it gave me confidence to run more!  It was really cool to run a race past military vehicles driving, and they debriefed us at the beginning that if there was a rocket attack to jump in the nearest ditch.  Well that’s something you normally don’t hear at a race debriefing.  It was also awesome because some units ran, so they were chanting and other soldiers wore their combat boots, or flak jackets!

I haven’t written a blog post in a long time, and every time I say I should, I feel uninspired.  I also haven’t picked up a book in a long time.  Now I’m three chapters into this book, and immediately thought of so many things I wanted to say.  Lighbulb moment!  Reading good books with others' words fuel my own words!

Anyway, when thinking about Pat Tillman’s life the first word that comes to mind is sacrifice.  He sacrificed so many things.  He passed up a $3.6 million deal with the NFL to enlist in the Army.  He ultimately sacrificed his life.  I found this quote the other day and in the Easter season I find it extremely fitting:

Only two defining forces have ever offered to die for you, Jesus Christ and the American Soldier. One died for your soul, the other for your freedom. - Anonymous

Out here I see sacrifices everyday.  Some of them big like troops lying their lives on the line for their friends, some medium sized like an airman having to watch the birth of his child on Skype , and some small like a soldier offering to let someone cut him in line.  I am surrounded so much by their lives, I seem to forget about the sacrifices people have made in my own. 

I was talking to my coworker yesterday about how excited I am getting for my vacation home.  It will be the first time I will visit home in 8 months.  He said, “It will be even harder on them when you leave this time.”  It hadn’t even occurred to me, but I’m sure it’s true.  My family is so amazing that they never mention if they are worried about me, but I’m sure it does take a toll when they see the latest news bulletin about 480 Taliban prisoners escaping in the city I currently live.  My parents have sacrificed so much for me to have a comfortable life, and here I am volunteering to go to a warzone. 

My parents and I at my college graduation

In the 7 months I have been out here my parents have remodeled a bathroom, put siding on the house, a new deck has been installed, and they have painted virtually every room.  I feel like a tool admitting this, but you see until 7 months ago I was still cashing the checks from the bank of Mom and Dad.  They still paid for my car and insurance and the occasional thing I needed along the way.  I can remember my parents talking about wanting to get siding literally years ago, I even recall talk of remodeling the bathroom when I was in third grade!  But, they didn’t.  They made sure we had all we could ever want or need before they thought of themselves.  It’s a selflessness that I know I couldn’t maintain right now.  It makes me think of all my friends that are mothers and fathers with a sense of awe.  They sacrifice.

We had a Wounded Warrior (soldier harmed in the line of duty waiting to get therapy and be sent back out in the field, or go home) who volunteered in the center recently.  He is the same age as me, 26.  He has a wife and three children.  We discussed our lives and how foreign the other one’s life seems.  He talked about the different ideas he had in high school like nursing school, or opening his own chain restaurant, but now he needs to do what is best for his family.  I tried to picture if my life was his, but I couldn’t.  It seemed like this parallel universe that I would have to fall down a magic hole or walk into a mythical wardrobe to enter.  At the ripe old age of 26 I don’t feel like I am mature enough or selfless enough to have children, let alone at 18.  He sacrificed.

When I was in Africa with Natalie she talked about having feelings of guilt.  Guilt that she had so much.  She is living in a mud hut with no running water or electricity and she is feeling guilty?!?!  She sacrifices.

I have heard a quote at some point in my life (probably from a sappy romantic comedy) that it's not a sacrifice; it's love.  That Meg Ryan or Sandra Bullock, or whoever it was, was right.  Because when it's love, for your children, spouse, job, country, or ideals, it doesn't seem like a sacrifice to you, it's your life and you wouldn't want it any other way.

A Million Miles in a Thousand Years

Goals, dreams, resolutions, aspirations, hopes, desires, wants, wishes, there are so many words for what we want to accomplish, yet so many times we fall short. 

I admit I have fallen victim to the ‘great idea but lack the follow through,’ syndrome.  I think my friends didn’t truly believe I was going to Afghanistan until my ballet flats hit the ground.  Then they knew I followed through, and it was real.  When I lived as a nanny in Raleigh right after college, I had a new idea every day which included, but was not limited to: stewardess, Americorps, living on a Native American reservation out west, Peace Corps, masters in education, and nanny in France.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to do with my life lately.  I am more than half way through my time here (if I don’t extend) and what am I going to do next?  It’s a question that I get asked almost every day.  My answer is still I have no idea! 

There is an AMAZING book titled,  A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.   I try to read a lot, and it is literally the best book I have read in years!  In it the author, Donald Miller, discusses creating a story for your life.  He talks about his friend whose daughter had a bad boyfriend and was into drugs and Miller responded, “Well sounds like she’s not living a good story.”  The father then realized he needed to provide his daughter with an alternate story.  He came up with the idea to have their family build an orphanage in a poor country.  He researched it and was enthusiastic about it and quickly his daughter was too.  That story became her story and she quickly forgot her old story all on her own.

“People love to have lived a great story, but few people like the work it takes to make it happen.  But joy costs pain.”  - Donald Miller in A Million Miles in a Thousand Years

We all have stories to tell and I know my time in Afghanistan is a fun and exciting one.  I just sometimes worry about what comes next in my story.  I was explaining this to one of my soldier friends, Aaron.  I said, What if I go back to the states and I’m boring?  His quick response was, “Who said you’re not boring here?”  Hilarious…and point made.

“I wondered about the story we were writing and wanted even more to write a better story for myself, something that leaves a beautiful feeling even as the credits roll.” - Donald Miller in A Million Miles in a Thousand Years 

After my time in Africa, I decided I want to visit all 7 continents by the time I’m 30.  I’m already more than half way there!  I have North America, Europe, Asia and Africa, just Australia and South America to bust out…oh and then there’s that pesky Antarctica.  That will be difficult.  I loved experiencing the completely different culture and interacting with the people, it was intoxicating!  My mom’s cousin, Bobbi, has visited all 7 continents.  I visited her before I went on my cruise in December with my family and I could not get enough of her stories! 

I also just began Day 2 of my training for a marathon.  Since I have moved to Afghanistan, I work out more than I have in the past 25 years combined.  With not much else for distraction, it’s a nice outlet for stress.  I want to run the Soldier Marathon in November in Fort Benning, Georgia.  Daren’s brother, Miles, would like to get a team together to run in memory of him.  I don’t even know what continent I’ll be on in November, but I want to run this race.  It gives me something proactive to do, some action to take, to honor him. 

The only time I have run a race was a 5K last year with the entire side of my mom’s family.  We were the SWATT Team: Sprinters, Walkers And Trash Talkers.  Although I was none of those, I was more the jog enthusiastically until about ¾ of the way through then feel like you’re going to heave but keep on smiling as you go at a pace that could just pass for jogging but barely more than speed walking (it’s all in the quick deceiving movements of the arms people) and pass the finish line.  And yes, I want to run a marathon, not a 5K, not a half, but a full marathon.  My sister Gretchen also known as my other half, my role model, my everything, ran the Marine Corps Marathon last year.  As was always the motivating factor when I was younger, if she can do it, I can do it!    (She still jokes that the whole reason I came to Afghanistan was just to “out do” her living in Costa Rica).  I even asked her to run with me, and she said she’s in!  So half way across the world we’re going to be training together!

Me and Gretchen before the big race

“The character has to jump into the story, into the discomfort and the fear, otherwise the story will never happen.”  - Donald Miller in A Million Miles in a Thousand Years