Running at Fort Dix

Having arrived in New Jersey from the Arabia Time Zone, I find myself awake at 3:00 am the first few mornings, though the time doesn't correspond with anything that suggests I should be waking up at that time eight hours ahead. But I take advantage by running.

It's colder here than in Kuwait.

It had been snowing lightly a couple of hours before. A film of snow dust glimmers on the cinder track. Ice on the roads makes a lonely morning run dangerous.

A bitter cold in my face, Dennis Lehane still in my ears. I log three miles.

Two nights later I run less precariously, and pay more attention to the place. My memories of Fort Dix are limited, but clear. We were here for six weeks in the spring, and my fetish for Army Basic Training left me with an unfulfilled craving for some Fort Dix history.

So I run to explore. Past the old basic training barracks that shelter us now. Past the famous water tower on 16th Street. Past a minimum security federal prison that occupies buildings and yards where trainees undoubtedly slept and trained a generation ago.

I run away from main roads to avoid being seen. I am a grown man, trying to get a work out, but I am irrationally fearful of someone who outranks me calling me out for wearing headphones. They are unauthorized, you know.



There is an unused road just west of the prison, near a water retention basin and a wooded area. It has been chewed up and spit out by the elements, and weeds find their way through infinite cracks. It curves around as if it once smiled on idyllic officer quarters, but no buildings remain. I can only guess what might have once stood there.

Another night I run by the old Walson Army Medical Center, which is supposed to be haunted. It's darker over here, which is convenient for the souls who do the haunting. When I nearly trip over a branch I am convinced it is a ghoul grabbing at my feet.

All this running makes me wonder what Fort Dix was like in its heyday. There is a museum here, which also may be haunted, because no one is there when I visit. Eventually I meet Mindy, the very friendly curator. She sent me the photos.

As is the case with KAF, BAF, and Arifjan, I am unlikely to run here again. If I do, you'll get the report.

Running at Arifjan

This is officially a theme. Running on various U.S. mlitary bases on foreign soil is becoming a habit, as is writing about it.

As much as I dislike it, running gives me an opportunity to think and reflect. After seven months deployed, I need it. The delpoyment is coming to an end, and now I run at Camp Arifjan, in Kuwait.

The weather is nearly ideal-- slight humidity, and evening temperatures in the low 60s. I have no excuse. So I run. I run down roads with names like Patton Blvd. and Connecticut Ave. There is a street called Harms Way. I stay away from it.

The main roads are wide and well-lit, but lightly trafficked by 8:00 pm. So I run undisturbed. 

I run down the wide, well-lit, and lightly trafficked road past the main PX and the swimming pool. Past probably a lot of headquarters buildings, toward the sound of helicopters. I turn right and run on gravel and dust through construction areas. The Camp is big and has obviously seen busier days. Now at the conclusion of two large wars, they still build. 

I run past container yards under a full moon. I run through an empty lot and have to turn around when I find myself fenced in. I run alongside a shuttle for a while, thinking it's a race, until it slowly pulls ahead. 

As is my habit, I run while listening to an audio book. Tonight is Live by Night by Dennis Lehane. My battery fails about a mile and a half into my circuit, and I contemplate returning for a fresh one. Instead I take the opportunity to notice more and think more.

I am glad I do. Everything feels calmer here. Almost healing. Maybe the Kuwaiti air is cleaner than I have been used to since May. Maybe it's the psychological effect of knowing there won't be a rocket incoming anytime soon. Maybe I'm in better shape than ever. Maybe I am just excited to be home soon.

It's Almost a Marathon: Running on BAF

January 19th is about 11 weeks away. That’s the day I’ll run the St. George Half.

So I’m getting ready now. Just as I ran in five months ago in southern Afghanistan, I’m hitting the road here in the north, at BAF.

It’s colder here. Much. We are further north, and higher. And nearing winter. I've heard it’s brutal here. That’s when the Taliban stops fighting. I heard that too.

I start out at my barracks, on Disney drive. Head north following a route I've measured by car. There are not many people out, maybe because of the cold, maybe because the gym is nicer here.

Disney is a main road, the mainest there is here, so I have to be careful of vehicular traffic. Don’t worry, I’m all properly regulated up with my reflective belt and eye pro. But I still violate the order to refrain from wearing headphones, though I’m less conspicuous about it here.

Roberts Gates drones on in my ears. Not the real Robert Gates, but the one who plays him in the audio version of Duty. It’s a good book, but not good enough to read. So I listen. Tonight he’s talking about his budget fights with OMB and the White House.

There is nearly no even ground to run on here. It’s flat enough, but the gravel is the two-inch variety, like ll the quarter-inch is designated for construction. So I have to negotiate the terrain, with the giant spots casting dagger shadows at my feet.

I run by the Korean hospital. I haven’t seen any Koreans here, but I imagine this place bustling with personnel from dozens of nations a few years ago, scurrying about with an intensity and urgency that we probably wouldn't recognize now. It seems like the world has forgotten about the war. It’s just as well. If it was in the headlines every day, life would probably be miserable for us.

I loop around the fuel point and the wash rack a second time. BAF is different from KAF in a lot of ways. There’s a different vibe here, one that I can’t precisely describe. I guess it’s like going to a different state. Geographically, it’s obvious. There are mountains all around. I don’t see them at night, but the cold air reminds me where I am.

Used to think that running any more than five miles at a time was a major health risk, that the human body just wasn't designed for it. In September I ran the Army 10-Miler, and I survived. Actually, it felt pretty good. I thought at the time that I could probably do another three miles without doing too much long-term damage. The half marathon is on, then. In January. In the warmer weather of St. George.

It’s going to be a challenge physically: 27 miles a week for the next month. But the challenges compound several weeks from now when we head home. Will I be able to keep up the regimen at home? In December? In Salt Lake? It’s going to be cold, icy, and easy to get distracted doing the things that people who aren't deployed do. I forget what those things are, but they’ll come back to me.

At any rate, thousands of other people do it every day. I’ll meet some of them in January. Let’s hope I’ll be ready.

My Army Weight Loss Secret

The following originally appeared on the site, "Suite 101" in 2008.

The United States Army has taught me quite a bit about losing weight and staying fit. At Basic Combat Training, six things led to serious weight loss.

Before I turned my body over to Uncle Sam, I weighed just this side of 200 pounds. I was officially overweight, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, which uses a Body Mass Index (BMI) to gauge weight category. 

Without getting into the specifics of how BMI is calculated, and why it is an effective tool for measuring healthy weight levels, I had too much body fat for my height. According to the CDC scale, a healthy weight level is between 18 and 25 BMI. I was out of bounds.

Six months later I was more than 20 pounds trimmer, at a satisfactory 22 BMI, and feeling great. What was my secret? I joined the Army. Now I certainly don’t expect anybody to join the Army simply to lose weight. There are, however, several things one can do to mimic the fitness and weight loss routine that the Army Basic Training provided for me.

Exercise in the morning

The cornerstone of the BCT fitness program is morning exercises. Six days a week I was on the Physical Training field for Army “PT.” It wasn’t difficult, simple calisthenics and a three-mile run on Wednesdays.

The main advantage of our exercise routine for me was its timing. Jeanie Lerche Davis of WebMD writes, in “Lose Weight With Morning Exercise,” that morning exercise helps the body develop a better routine, which affects sleep patterns and the body’s ability to lose weight. Even if you don’t do a full workout every day, regular morning exercise is a key component of an effective weight loss program.

Maintain sleep patterns

Regular sleep has also been linked to weight loss. At BCT, we were in the rack at 9:00 every night, and up by 4:00 am. While on the minimal side of the seven to eight hours suggested by most experts, the regularity made up for the dearth. My body knew when it was supposed to be working, and it got going at the same time every day. 4:00 am is too early for me as a civilian, but the routine is the important part. Under sleeping and oversleeping could hinder your weight loss.

Keep meals regular and proportioned

At BCT we ate three squares a day. The meals came at regular times, and were balanced and healthy. My biggest meal was breakfast, and I ate as much as I could, following the advice of a professional trainer I had met before shipping to Basic: “eat like a king for breakfast, like a prince for lunch, and like a peasant for dinner.” The first meal sustained me through the hardest part of my work day, and lunch maintained my energy level. Dinner was just enough to keep me from going hungry, and without a full stomach my body slept better without having to metabolize much until the next morning.

Get full in the morning

A smoothie, a bowl of cereal, and some toast should do the trick. If you’re on the  go, a couple of bananas and a breakfast sandwich with plenty of milk or juice could fill you up. It’s hard to do, but your body will thank you for it, and you’ll have more energy, be more productive throughout the day, and eat a lot less for your other meals.

Stay active throughout the day

Another important aspect of my Army experience was our constant activity. We were ever on the go: walking, carrying, marching, and cleaning. The bottom line is that we stayed busy. My body was always burning calories.

This is an easy thing for anyone to do. You don’t have to put yourself through a grueling workout. Do some yard work, clean the garage, straighten up the house, walk around the block. Just get off the couch or away from the computer a little more than usual.

Drink lots of water

If there is one thing I heard more than anything thing else, it was, “Drink water!” Our BCT leaders understood the importance of proper hydration for good health. Not only did adequate—on the generous side—water kept me from feeling hungry, it helped my body’s metabolism work smoothly.

Studies have shown that those who drink more water tend to lose more weight. Just about anybody can apply these five principles to a moderate weight loss plan. Do it the Army way and lose weight now!

Running on KAF

They're calling it a Super Moon out here. I've never heard it referred to as that, but it makes me feel better about my run.

Running around KAF at night causes the strangest synapses to occur. My mind races faster than my heart, which is working hard enough.

By the time I write this I remember only a fraction.

I am alone, properly donned in uniform and reflective belt, but improperly adorned with ordinary eyeglasses instead of APEL eyewear. The Authorized Protective Eyewear List is an Army's quality standard for ballistic eye protection.

It's a reasonable requirement. This place takes a rocket about once every two weeks, but life goes on. The dust is more of a nuisance than any possibility of taking rocket shrapnel. Nobody seems to worry much about the threat.

Theories of the military effectiveness of bombing civilian areas during World War II suggest that bombing campaigns are more likely to induce the desired panic when they are unexpected.

The expectancy theory would explain why I and dozens of other Soldiers jogged along the outer roads rather carefreely.

As I run I listen to House to House: An Epic Memoir of War. It's about the Second Battle of Fallujah. The author, a squad leader in the 2nd Battalion, 2nd Infantry Regiment, has the Army doing most of the clearing, though conventional tellings of it have the Marines as the conquerors. In one part, several platoons were ordered to backtrack along territory they had already moved through to meet up with the Marines, who were woefully behind schedule.

It's extremely hot and dry. I realize that we are in a combat zone. My mind goes back to running late one summer night in St. George, during another episodic drive to get into shape. The Army has motivated me, from time to time, to stay fit. Running in the heat has always made me feel like I am satisfying some minimal obligation for pain and discomfort. St. George is a pretty good analogy. If pain is some product of muscular exertion and environmental wear, then KAF is a great place to feel like I am achieving something.

I find a bit of pride in that as I run along in the moonlight.

An occasional dump truck drives by, kicking up more dust in my face, and ultimately into my lungs. Oh well. 

This place is like a city.

A small, dumpy, industrial city.

But it is safe, or at least feels so. There are thousands of insurgents who knows how far outside the wire. They'd like nothing more than to score a major attack in a big base like KAF. But it'll never happen. There are to many protection measures in place.

Two blimps float above me. They are called Aerostats, and they are equipped with high powered cameras that scan the landscape, day or night.

The sonic screams of jets erupt in the darkness, reminding me and the bad guys that they are outmatched.

I get back to my hooch exhausted, soaking, and feverish. It's too hot to be running. 

The PA Privates 300 Club

Etheridge is giving 110 percent, he says.

We figured, if everyone in our units deployed does that, we'll have 880 percent in total. That oughta count for something!

I could throw around numbers all day.

• 87: the number of push up that SSG Houston performed on our last diagnostic APFT
• 73: the number of sit up SGT Barnes need to score 90 points on that event
• 7.25: the number of laps that make up two miles on a typical Army track 
• 200: The number of points that MAJ Ence routinely scores on the non-running events

The number that matters the most, though: 300.

That represents the gold standard in Army physical fitness. And it is the score that each of our Soldiers has committed to achieving by the end of the deployment. In my best shape I could never get their. Once I got 293, coming up short on push ups. I've met a handful of Soldi
ers who are in the 300 club. I've met a lot more who got really close.

It's tough. I rmember in Basic training barely being able to get over the 200 mark. Took me eight weeks to purge enough wimpiness from my body. On that final APFT run when I crossed the line at 14:18, Drill Sergeant Robertson yelled, "that's slow, Stowell!" I replied that it was fast. I was wrong.

My goal is to run a 12:00 two-mile by the end of summer. My body hurts from the workouts.

Everybody in the unit has their physical training plan: some are into yoga, a few did cross fit. Everyone runs. SPC Solomon says he climbs wasll, though I've never witnessed it.

But everyone is doing something. A Lot. I'm probablyin my best shape since high school, the last time I had a genuine six pack. (I realized around age 26 that it was never coming back).

We are also documenting our travails in video. So if you want to see some Public Affairs Privates sweat and talk about exercising, stay tuned.

(Army Photo by SFC Marisol Hernandez; Stencil Photo by Me)

Insecurity Is an Army Value

By SSG Lyndsey Prax

If you've ever spoken to anyone in the U.S. Military then there’s no doubt you know why their service is better than the others.

The Air Force for example has better everything: better food, lodging, equipment, facilities. Marines, as they tell it, are tougher and more willing to fight (in bars and on beach heads). Sailors apparently get to travel the world in boats.

So what is so special about the Army you ask? This blog has addressed that question before. Twice, actually. But the real strength of the U.S. Army comes from its multitudinous experts. Seventy-three per cent of Soldiers experts, and that number rises to 94 per cent for E5 and above! Experts at what? Yes.

Soldiers are experts at pointing out others mistakes and even better at making excuses for their own.

Let’s use today as an example. Today I cleared my weapon three times inside of two minutes. Clearly I am an expert at clearing my weapon. However, the last time I cleared the weapon I failed to switch my selector switch from “semi” to “safe”. Thank God my expert NCOIC discovered my mistake and punished me by demanding I perform 25 push-ups.

And wouldn’t you know it-- every other Soldier in my unit was an expert in diagnosing my push up deficiencies. One expert dropped to the floor and started showing me how to perform a correct push-up, but apparently she was not performing them correctly either! Good thing there were other experts on hand. They proceeded in turn, each performing their best push-up while the others from the side performed their duty of criticizing.

Of course no one’s was perfect. The real point of the exercise was for each to defend his or her own expertise. We have to prove, after all, why we are better than those Marines (in the bar or on the beach head).

Although I am nearly perfect in every way, I am happy I chose the service that has individuals with the courage and integrity to point out all of my flaws and mistakes; the service that affords me the opportunity to turn my defensiveness and insecurity into a virtue by encouraging me to point out, er, correct, others' weaknesses.

I can’t think of any better way to spend my time.

Here I Go Again

Post number three of deployment number two.

I am heading with my unit to a little place called Afghanistan. We're looking good, if I do say so myself. New uniforms in hand, equipment ready, and nearly trained up. Fort Dix-- ahem... Joint Base McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst-- isn't a bad place. The chow hall seems to be getting worse, but we're near enough to other options to make that tolerable.

Many of you have asked what our mission over there will be. Can't say, exactly. Public Affairs generally does reporting on what American forces are doing. We're hearing that a high priority for us will be to produce propaganda news packages about the cooperation between the US/NATO and Afghan forces.

But that's boring. What you all care about is the dessert options in the dining facilities, right? Well, there's more to this deployment than goodies. So here are a few things faithful readers of this blog, Loyal Cynics, as they have been called in the past, should know:

One: My Public Affairs has a new author. Lyndsey Prax is a decorated Staff Sergeant in the United States Army. She usually decorates herself with charm bracelets and war paint. But I'll let her introduce herself in a couple of days. Next post is hers, and so readers will get a different, and perhaps even a funny, perspective on things Army.

Two: I'll be adding a new feature: satire. If you need convincing that not everything else in this blog is satirical, then you should read more official Army propaganda public affairs material. The line is very thin sometimes.

Three: We're adding a new "Physical Fitness" label to include a hopefully sizable number of posts on our unit's fitness plan. Basically, our eight-soldier detachment is going to rock the Army Physical Fitness Test. By the end of our deployment, we'll have a documentary ready to go about how this little public affairs unit embarrassed a bunch of high speed soldiers with amazing fitness scores.

In a nutshell, this is the relaunch of a blog that will change your life. If you doubt me, take my little test. Read weekly and comment regularly. The change will be even more pronounced if you share all of our content with your friends.

If at the end of our deployment "not to exceed 400 days," you are not satisfied, I'll probably just stop writing.

(Photo by Lt. Col. Hank McIntire)