He straps the first pack over his shoulder, the second goes on the same shoulder. He slings another over the other shoulder and picks up something with both his right and left hand. He leaves the confines of his safehouse and goes out into the hot 95 degree heat. The first grain of white hot sand hits his feet and it scorches him....he grimaces. As he walks across the sand to his camp, arms aching, shoulders crying - he sits down the radio, pack and slings and finally exhales. A US soldier in Iraq? No....a middle aged dude on vacation. It's pathetic to think about what our soldiers must go through and how mentally and physically tough they have to be. I complain carrying some items to our beach set-up. Instead of complaining, I should be thankful that these brave individuals are over there doing what I cannot. I was reminded of that several times this week as training jets from nearby bases buzzed the crowds at the shore. Think about it, I'm wearing a pair of trunks and nothing else with ice cold beer and water within arms reach. These guys are out there in full gear going who knows how long between cold water and or beers. These guys are girls are truly inspirational and I'm going to try to use them as such when I start training for the Philly half-marathon this year.
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