Coach Cami – The Journey Begins Again

Guest Post by Coach Cami Stock!!  If you don’t already know about R4V’s Head Coach, it’s definitely time! Click here to read a little about her awesome skills and then come back and read about her first week as the Assistant Coach of the Air Force Warrior Team. The Warrior Games are the Olympics for wounded, ill and injured service members and Selection Camp occurs to figure out which service members will be chosen to represent their military branch in the Games! 

As I watched the sun rise over the Rockies this morning, I tried to put my arms around all the thoughts racing through my head. The first day of Air Force Warrior Team Selection Camp commenced today. Over 50 wounded, ill, and injured airmen descended on Colorado Springs to throw, run, swim, play, and shoot their hearts out. There are a lot of old faces and friendships, but a ton of new, hungry athletes excited about the opportunity. It feels like the news on this program is spreading like crazy, and the energy is equally crazy. Today, I just felt so incredibly lucky to be a part of it and amazed to watch athletes try new things and change their lives in the process.

A lot of people ask me what it’s like to work with these athletes–in particular, how it differs from working with my able-bodied athletes. To me, it is much of the same…as coaches, we are always looking at what we can do differently to make an athlete faster and more efficient. That “something” isn’t a magic bullet, as it takes a lot of time and muscle memory, and more important, it isn’t the same “something” for everyone. Coaching isn’t a generalized thing, as every athlete responds to different stimulus. With these athletes, perhaps more unique modifications are needed, but the effort is the same…if the athlete is willing, then we’ll try an arsenal of things until something sticks. And as long as you care, and he/she cares, it’s a successful process.

These athletes come from different stages in their injuries–some are further in the healing process than others–but they are still ATHLETES. They are hungry to learn a new craft, and humble enough to try something out for the first time, even if it isn’t pretty. They fall, they laugh, they get back up, and they help each other do the same. They pay it forward. Long after camp is over, they check on each other. They develop friendships. They bring more people into the fold. They rehab harder–because they have an athletic goal and a team that is counting on them.

I cannot tell you how many lives sport has changed, but I’ve seen a lot of them…and these athletes, in turn, have changed my life and the lives of all who are a part of this experience. I walk away full of respect and admiration (and memories laden with laughter with this crew), and NO EXCUSES to get off my butt and get uncomfortable.

Thank you for all your doing in your support of R4V–I see its mission and its effects firsthand, and I am grateful.

R4V’s 2013 Racing Series

It’s that time of year again: Time to build out your 2013 race calendar!! Team R4V has tons of options: 5K’s, 10K’s, half-marathons, marathons, and even a triathlon on our 2013 race calendar!

Check out our Signature Events:

• March 16 - Rock ‘N’ Roll USA Half & Full Marathon; Washington, D.C.
• September 21 – United States Air Force 5K, 10K, Half & Full Marathon; Dayton, Ohio
• October 27 – Marine Corps Marathon; Washington, D.C.

In all road races, you will receive top-notch training from R4V’s head coach, Cami Stock, a personalized fundraising webpage, a pre-race dinner and post-race party with your teammates*, and support from your entire TEAM along your journey to the finish line.

Most important, however, is by joining Team R4V you will INSPIRE HOPE in our wounded heroes when they need it most!

Click here to sign-up today! OR if you are racing in another race and want to represent R4V, send us an email (MeghanLederer@teamr4v.org) and we will hook you up with a R4V technical racing shirt and a personalized fundraising webpage!

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Team R4V at the Air Force 5K, 10K, Half & Full Marathon

*Must have a minimum of 20 athletes register per race for R4V to host a pre-race dinner and post-race party.

R4V’s Athlete of the Month

Team R4V is thrilled to announce our sponsorship of a CrossFit Walter Reed Athlete each month. R4V’s December Athlete of the Month was Corporal Jake Hill, USMC.  Jake competed in the inaugural Working Wounded Games in 2012 and is a current athlete at CrossFit Walter Reed! Congratulations Jake and we hope you enjoy your new lifting shoes and CrossFit gear!

Corporal Jake Hill and Team R4V founder, Joe Plank

Corporal Hill grew up in Rapid City, South Dakota where he went to high school at Stevens High School. He joined the United States Marine Corps shortly thereafter because he wanted to be a part of history. He was sent to Afghanistan at the ripe age of 19 years old…

The first time I saw combat, I was 19. When I saw all-out war, I was 20. 16 of 40 were wounded, two died. Getting shot at is nothing. But when the air is so heavy with gunpowder and explosives that you can barely breathe. When the sound filling your ears is that of an incomprehensible amount of gunshots and your friend is fighting to stay alive. When you see your friend fighting to stay alive, and explosions are rocking your field of view, you’ve found it – War.

Going to war is a coming of age tale in every life that experiences it. Not everyone who gets deployed knows what I’m talking about. Seeing friends bleed, hearing friends scream out in fear, running right at machine guns, trying to save someone, loving your brothers so much that you would put your life on the line to save them, seeing 500 pound bombs dropped 90 meters from where you stand. These are all things that make me who I am today. If I weren’t there to see these things, I would be a different person.

Crossfit has done things for me I never thought possible. I never thought I’d squat, deadlift, run, pushpress, crean, jerk, of anything like that ever again. Now I can and for that, I’m blessed.

Corporal Hill competing at the inaugural Working Wounded Games

Corporal Hill competing at the inaugural Working Wounded Games

Corporal Hill at CrossFit Walter Reed

Corporal Hill at CrossFit Walter Reed

The Chief – Two Tragedies

Chief Master Sergeant Damian Orslene, or the “Chief” as his friends know him, is a member of Team R4V who competed in the 2012 Warrior Games. Click here to learn more about the Chief.

There were two marked tragedies last week involving Wounded Warriors. Both were horrific in nature. Both could have and should have been prevented. Only one was reported on CNN. A train hit a parade float carrying several Wounded Warriors and their families en route to a banquet being held in their honor. Why the float was on the tracks at that exact time of the train’s crossing has yet to be answered. You, like me, probably looked to heaven at the announcement of four deaths and many seriously hurt and thought what more do these brave souls have to give? The media’s bright light will continue to burn over that small Texas town until every answer has been found and every last inquiry satisfied. And in that, is where the true tragedy lays.

We lost another Wounded Warrior this week as well. His passing was just as horrific, though it was never mentioned on CNN, in fact it never made the local news. His death involved a bitter battle, but because it was fought in the darkness of his room; in the confines of his own mind and tortured soul, we may never find answers to all of our unanswered questions. USMC Sgt Chris Sawyers lost his battle with PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and took his own life last week. A horrible tragedy. A Facebook Post stated that his unit has now lost more men to suicide then it did in combat. Another unacceptable, mind-blowing tragedy. But to many, this was just another statistic.

But my friends, not to US! This is why we do what we do. If we could have just reached him a moment sooner! If we could have shined our light his way.  I know, I hear you already, “Chief, while admirable, it is unrealistic. You can’t save them all. They bear some of the responsibility too.”  Oh yes, but dang it, we have to try! That is what Racing For Veterans is all about. We are the bright light that must reach into the darkness; reach each and every hurting individual and help them fight their way from the darkness.

I recognize that my reader’s fall into two categories, those of you already involved in the Non-profit business and those that aren’t. For those that are already in the business and are trying to help… keep trying and try harder. Try new things. We at R4V are offering grants in the form of gym memberships, along with personal trainers, coaching, and a host of other opportunites for those veterans who want to get off the couch and back into the game of life.

For those of you not in the non-profit business, you’re thinking besides giving money what can I do? The most important thing you can do is help shine our light into the desperate, darkened corner only you as a family member and friend can see. You know someone right now who used to be an athlete but was injured either visibly or invisibly in the war and is suffering and really could use a Crossfit membership, or pool membership, or a Gun Club membership. And this would give them a reason to get out and socialize and see that they are not alone in their struggles.

Ok, I hear you again, “But Chief, not everyone is an athlete. Some guys aren’t into that. But they hunt and fish, can you help there?” Yes, we can! One of our Partners in the War on PTSD is another awesome Non-Profit called Wounded War Heroes.  WWH is based in Louisiana and is focused on getting Wounded Warriors off the couch and back out into the great outdoors. I cannot tell you how beneficial these weekends with these great guys have been for my own personal healing. You cannot find a bigger bunch of flag waiving, military loving Americans than these guys. They want to partner with us and shine their considerable light on the WAR on PTSD.  Which is awesome! BUT…we cannot do it alone

Here is the bottom-line. There were two horrible tragedies this week: the dying has stopped in Texas. It needs to stop with our troops at home now too. Not one more suicide, enough already! And you can help us. I wish I could fund all this myself and care less about the Bottom-line, and then we would focus all of our resources into a huge standing beacon of light that in the darkest of hours could save lives; but in truth, only you know who the hurting people are. Only you can help us funds these grants, and hunts. If you can help us, PLEASE donate. If you know someone who needs us, PLEASE let us know. Together, we CAN and WILL save lives.

Throw Far!

TeamR4V.org

WWHfr.com

Be Joyful in Hope

Chad Chase joined the United States Air Force when he was 19 years old because he wanted to defend the greatest nation on Earth.  He deployed in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom and came home a different man. Diagnosed with multiple injuries and among them some of the most devastating to come out of the Afghanistan and Iraq wars: a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Chad explains what it is like living with PTSD and a TBI:

In my years of dealing PTSD and a TBI I have came to look at it much the same way as a missing body part. I am not missing an arm or leg; I am missing a part of my soul.  I have lost some of my very essence and I may never recover it. In the case of wounds like PTSD and TBI’s they are not as obvious or as easy to see as most war wounds. More often than not, sufferers of these injuries do all they can to hide their wounds. There is a certain honor in a battle scar but this honor is never felt by those who suffer the invisible curse; known as PTSD.

Chad was unable to leave his bedroom for months at a time. He had almost lost hope and hit rock bottom. Enter Team R4V.  Chad is now an avid mountain biker and the proud owner of a brand new bike thanks to Team R4V! It has changed his life!!

Sports are my tool, my prosthetic, if you will. In particular mountain biking has became my soul prosthetic. I cannot stay in isolation and bike. My desire to bike is also strong enough to pull me from the isolation of my bedroom. It is a common ground between me and other people, allowing for my slow integration back into society. There are the healing benefits also, that any sport provides. These include, physical fitness, improved self-image, lessened physical pain and most importantly a significant reduction in depression.  Depression is a nasty symptom of PTSD that often leads veterans to suicide.  I know this from experience, as depression, pain and other symptoms have almost claimed my life.  I am a firm believer that medications do not work, and recreation and physical activity is the most effective way to fight depression.

This year it has been my resolution to break my isolation and depression.  I can no longer take the pain!  I am not ready to quit.  I have searched for many things over the years to help; and it has been hard for me to find something that did not aggravate my physical conditions.  Mountain biking seemed a perfect fit. I gave it a try and now I am hooked. I firmly believe that this is my crutch.  It is nice to have something to look forward to after the years of hopelessness.  

Thank you Team R4V and everyone that supports this organization. You have given me a reason to live again, find joy and cling to hope. 

Team R4V’s Leadership

Have you ever wondered who dreams up a non-profit, then dedicates countless hours and funds in order to help others? Well, wonder no longer! Over the next several months, I have the pleasure of interviewing Team R4V’s Board of Directors and Leadership. Team R4V’s board is composed of six individuals who are on a journey of giving back, and using sports as the avenue to touch countless veterans who have made incredible sacrifices for their country. 

This week, I have the honor of introducing Team R4V’s Chairman, Jeff Haugh.

How can you relate to the veteran athletes you serve?

I suffered combat injuries in Iraq and was subsequently medically retired.  I am a white male officer from a military academy who was transitioning to Washington, DC – yet the challenges I was grappling with were unbearable.  I remember thinking that if I was younger and single, with fewer resources, an enlisted woman or minority, returning to an inner city or small town – I would have been a statistic.

I know the horror of feeling like a different person after you come home – avoiding driving, scaring my wife with nightmares.  Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) is tricky.  You can’t rely on your memory and “trying” to focus and concentrate usually leads to more frustration.  The endless medical appointments and awkward conversations can easily lead you to the bar and inward, away from people who can help.

I relate to our veterans as a brother, a father, a coach, and a fellow athlete.

There are other service organizations out there to support disabled veterans, why R4V? 

Racing for Veterans is an opportunity to serve again.  It was an honor to serve my country in uniform and R4V offers an amazing mission to serve in something bigger than myself.  I cannot think of a more meaningful endeavor.

Why is Team R4V meaningful to you?

The meaning of R4V is compelling – the opportunity to win and not just recover. I will never submit to the notion that rehabilitation from the physical and psychological scars from post 9-11 service is about simply getting back to where you were before a trauma.  The fact is that we are different. Let’s accept that.  Moreover, this is what makes our returning veteran population a generation that has given more and longer than any before us.

I come from a military family.  My grandfather served in WWII, Korea, and Vietnam and met my grandmother, an Army nurse in WWII.  The founders of my company were SilverStar recipients from WWII and Vietnam.  So my respect for “The Greatest Generation” is fundamental.  I know what I have seen in young men and women volunteering to go into harm’s way over and over and I have lost friends.  Our recent returning veterans are in a class that we won’t appreciate for quite some time.  R4V is for them and my grandparents would be proud.

Jeff’s Grandparents during WWII

 What do you want your veteran athletes to get out of R4V programs?

 I firmly stand by my belief that we owe it to our fallen brothers and sisters to help them be better than we ever were before service.  This is a fundamental to R4V.  Our belief is that athletic endeavors provide an amazing opportunity to showcase this.

We don’t participate in marathons or Cross Fit competitions so our veterans can simply cross the finish line.  We do it because we want to be a part of their transformation.  R4V is about showcasing the character, tenacity, and personal transformation of America’s finest through athletics.

 Were you an athlete before R4V?

I played college football and have completed some triathlons and summited a couple mountains.  Athletics have always been a part of my life… now it just means far more.

Jeff after the 2012 Marine Corps Marathon

 

MCM 2012 – Ashley’s Race Report

Late March 2012, I started my journey. I had something to prove to myself. That something was completing the 37^th Marine Corps Marathon. After researching many veteran centered organizations, I decided to join Team R4V and that’s when my journey truly began.

On October 28^th, 2012 I woke up earlier than a normal day but laced up my shoes like I had done so many times before. Today would be the day I would run my first marathon. I got on the metro, still with butterflies in my stomach, thinking, doubting… “Am I really doing this? Am I going to finish? Did I train hard enough?”

Walking to the start line is surreal, I find signal for my GPS watch, and it’s almost time to go. After a very long walk, I reach the starting line and I’m pumped from the crowd’s energy and loud music. My foot touches the blue line that engages my chip, instantly, the butterflies are gone and I feel nothing but strength and determination.

The first 10 miles were a breeze, I ran by so many with faces of those they’ve lost on their shirts, so many running in full fatigues and the most profound image I will remember forever, a man running in a military bomb disengaging suit walking with other marines. Another man running behind me saw the back of my shirt that read, “Racing for America’s Heroes,” he replied, “America’s Heroes thank you!” WOW! This was only the beginning. Running along the tidal basin around miles 13-15, I saw a line of posters with military service men and women who were KIA, not long after a flag for every person with a black ribbon with their name. I began to feel tears well, thanked God for their sacrifices and redirected my attention to the race.

With over half the course done, I was tired but determined! The crowd picks up through the mall and rejuvenates my spirit. I am ready. I reach mile 20 where my dad and my younger brother, Ryan are waiting for me. Dad sticks around for a few miles, he just ran the 10K, and Ryan pushes me to finish. I can’t begin to express my gratitude for them, especially at this point. 20 miles was the furthest I’ve ever run, could I make it 6.2 more miles? The answer was YES! Once, we’re over the bridge I feel the end is truly near. We run through Arlington where, once again the crowd is relentless.

Finally, I reached the point where I started, my Dad rejoins us and all I can focus on is the finish, I reach the hill, give my one last push and there it is. A finish line has never looked so beautiful, my brother high fives the Marines to his right and he passes their high fives to me, I cross the finish line. I have made it, I did it! Again, I want to cry but I’m so happy! With a sigh of relief I happily accept my medal from a Marine who salutes me, how profound.

That day there was a lot of self-reflection, my entire training I thought I was running this race for me, to prove to myself I could do it, and in reality I was running it for the men and women who fight for our freedom and those who have given the ultimate sacrifice so that I may run anytime my heart desires; which happens to be last weekend in the Rosaryville Veteran’s Day 50K. Thank you, Veterans!

Team R4V’s Marine Corps Marathon 2012

On October 27, Team Racing for Veterans traveled to Washington, D.C. to compete in the Marine Corps Marathon (MCM). Composed of 38 members – disabled veterans, service members, Military spouses, and concerned citizens – the Team made a serious commitment to raise funds (over $11,000!) and awareness to help support, reintegrate, and rehabilitate our wounded veterans through sport.

Hurricane Sandy could not stop them! Team members and families traveled from Georgia to California all the way to D.C. for this incredible weekend!

R4V Team Member Laura and her son on their way to D.C. for the big day!

The Team met over a pre-race dinner Saturday night to carb load and talk about how everyone’s hard work and dedication was changing lives. The Team was excited and anxious for race morning as there were 24 first-time marathoners who had trained with R4V Head Coach Cami over the past four months.

Race morning came with a light rain, overcast, and slight headwind – it was going to be a great day! Team members were scattered throughout the course running for something much bigger than themselves and pushing through discomfort to make it to the finish line.  Running through our Nation’s Capitol for the mission of supporting those who have made incredible sacrifices so that we may live free was more powerful than words can express.

R4V Team Member Daniel running past the Capitol Building

R4V Team Member Graham Taylor – a member of our Georgia Soldiers
Photo Courtesy of Ben Maphis

R4V Team Member Ashley and family post-race. Congratulations on a GREAT first marathon, Ashley!

Team R4V’s GA Soldiers Post-Race
Photo Courtesy of Ben Maphis

R4V Head Coach Cami Stock and husband Dave Stock.

Team R4V President, Joe Plank, and Chairman, Jeff Haugh post-race.

Due to Hurricane Sandy, many team members left town before the post-race party, but a huge R4V “Thank You” to each one of you! You are turning dreams into realities for our American Heroes! Thank you for joining the TEAM and we look forward to seeing you again soon!

To view full slideshow click here.

The Chief – Being a Spectator is Hard

Chief Master Sergeant Damian Orslene, or the “Chief” as his friends know him, is a member of Team R4V who competed in the 2012 Warrior Games. Click here to learn more about the Chief.

Being a spectator is hard.  This is not something I have had a ton of experience at, for My Bride (Lori) and I have always competed together. We helped each other get ready, and once I finished I ran back for her and stayed with her until we crossed the line…together.  But suddenly our competitive lives are not together.  I was using the Southern Magnolia 26 Mile as my first Marathon Length Time Trail and Lori was doing the Gulf Coast Half Marathon Series Mandeville Race on Sunday. So Friday night saw her laying all of her things out on the bed while I went over my stuff next to Ms Kitty, my recumbent, in the garage.  My goal is to get us back together at the same event by breaking into the Marathon Race Circuit, which currently doesn’t allow Recumbent Bikes.  But, and a very big BUT here, we have found two Race Director’s who are receptive to the idea for next year’s races so I was using Saturday as my benchmark. My Bride and I crisscrossed each other through the house handing each other packets of Shot Blocks and water bottles, as she reminded me about extra socks and I reminded her about the race belts that I am normally in charge of.  We had just gotten Ms Kitty back from Cycles Plus our Local Bike shop where the Owner Neil and Co. personally handles her with kid gloves.  So with new tubes and pedals I was all set.  I was excited to have the chance to compete against myself, in preparation for what might happen in the future, but somehow it just wasn’t the same. Inside I wasn’t settled and I wasn’t sure why.

Saturday was a perfect day for a bike ride. Not too hot, not too cool, just a slight wind. The 26 Mile group had 20 riders, (I was the only recumbent), and an on time start.  The Map they showed us looked pretty simple, few if any turns 13 miles out and back.  Nothing to worry about.  That was wrong.  It had a total of 14 turns, which if you are in a group, it is no big deal, but this was a VERY HILLY course and after the second hill, not 10 minutes into the ride, as I bombed down it at 28MPH I realized I was very alone.  If you think my navigation skills are bad in a car, try doing them in a Trike.  There were no upright turn signs, just painted arrows on the street which you can see from some way off when you are on an upright bike, but you can’t see them until you are right on top of them in Ms Kitty…which is how after a power slide, a cuss word and a yell, having missed the turn, we ended up in a ditch.  Luckily I learned many valuable lessons in Colorado about power slides and released my brakes and just went with it before my tires blew.  So I pulled myself out, checked for broken anything’s on me and Ms Kitty and started off again.  It was a tough, going down one, climbing up another hill kind of ride that was over before you knew it.  1:46 minutes.  A very good free massage offered at the finish and a plate of spaghetti that my carb loading Bride sucked off my plate and we were in the car and headed for home.

We hit the house, drug Ms Kitty into the garage, showered grabbed our bags, jumped back in the car and headed 90 minutes to Mandeville, LA to get Lori’s race packet before 5PM.  At packet pick up I resumed a conversation I had started last year with the Louisiana Marathon Race Director about allowing Recumbents into his race and my Bride skipped merrily from booth to booth and I watched…unsettled.

When she was done we went and got her all carb loaded up for her prerace meal then off to the hotel to get settled in.  My legs were screaming from the race that morning, so I needed an Ice bath and she wanted to lay everything out so our 4AM start would be an easy transition.  So back at the room, with my lower body a frozen block of ice from a 20-minute ice bath and her clothes laid out, checked and double-checked we headed to bed, 4AM comes awful early.  And it did.

I ate as soon as my eyes opened, showered and dressed, my usual routine, then sat on the end of the bed and watched her twist herself in knots in her head about what the right shirt to wear based on the current weather conditions. This is her usual super computer brain routine, I know better than to intervene. The race starts at 7AM. We are 10 minutes from the park. It is 4:30AM.  We are good.  There was a huge traffic jam last year and the race started with many runners still outside the park in their cars. This year they want all runners in the park by 6AM.  At 4:45 she holds up two shirts, recaps the entire weather situation and says what do you think?  “Babes, I say, “your first choice was the right choice, go with the yellow. I want to be able to pick you out of the crowd” And she smiles.

5AM we are in the car.  5:25, having missed a turn, we are sitting in the parking lot of the park with about 20 other cars and 50 parking attendants.  “Where is everyone?” I ask.  “Oh, they’re coming” a small redheaded young lady says with a two-way radio pressed to her ear. “You know runners”, she continues “They don’t ever listen and they hate to lose sleep. They will be here at 6:45 just like last year.” And she runs off as her radio crackles with a crisis at the front gate.  I look at my watch and then at my Bride with raised eye brows…”You got something to say there Mister?” she says to me, her eyes hardening, “No Dear” I whimper and She says “Damn Right!” as she heads for the Port-a-Johns to “beat the rush”.

The “Rush” does come, at 6:30AM at least instead of 6:45AM, and it just keeps coming right up when they call the runners to get in line behind their respective estimated running times. There are these huge cardboard sign, mini-billboards, with 7:00, 8:00, each representing how many minutes you will take to run one mile.  We walked past those to 10:00 and here we started to slow down. There was no 11:00 and the next Sign said 12:00, I’m I here somewhere, My Bride said almost sheepishly as if to walk past all those faster people was something to be ashamed of.  “Babes…just celebrate running” I say and she smiles for she understands I would give anything to be there beside her, to be able to run again.

I take a few pictures before the crowd swallows her up and suddenly I am on the outside looking in again…unsettled.  The gun goes off and I start the video camera rolling to capture her as she goes by and in a flash of Yellow and a wave she is gone. And now there is nothing to do but wait.  This is very unsettling.

Being a spectator is hard.  Something you have to work at.  I have always been on the field in one way or another, but suddenly there I was surrounded by many other people like me. People waiting. So I turned my attention from what was going on inside me, to what was going on around me.  Across from me on a camp stool sat an older woman in purple, a color I had seen often that day and knew as the Team in Training, The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society’s endurance sports training program. She had six pieces of purple ribbon pinned to her shirt. I crossed over to her, opened my cane chair that My Bride had bought me and asked her what the ribbons meant. She looked at me a moment, and touched each one.  “We have this terrible disease in my family” she said.  These are my family that I have lost”.  One was her daughter, both of her sisters, an Aunt, and both of her parents.  “I’m 62 years old, I haven’t got any money, so I didn’t pledge any amount this year, instead I pledged to recruit one runner for each of my ribbons, and I asked them to recruit one runner too. Before you know it I talked 9 people into joining Team in Training this year, and wouldn’t you know they all raised more money than they had to. Every single one,” she said, as a tear, rolled down her cheek, “I’m real proud of that don’t you know. Maybe that money can help somebody else’s family. I sure wish it could have helped mine.” And she squeezed my hand, and I hugged her and walked further down the race route.

There were four very pretty young ladies sitting amongst a plethora of “We love you Donny” signs that peaked my interest.  “He must be quite the stud to have four pretty girls like you fighting over him” I said and smiled…but they don’t smile back…and that little voice goes off inside my head that tells me I just messed up big time.  But a skinny blonde steps forward and says “I guess he is, but he’ll never know it, and we do love him, but we’re not sure if he knows that either.  See Donny’s not running the race, his 55 year Mother Pat is. Donny has severe Cerebral Palsy and is being pushed in a specially designed race chair.  We are his sisters and Step-sisters. But Mom insists that it’s not her Race but Donny’s and she won’t accept the medal at the end, but insists they put it around his neck.  She’s our hero, and Donny’s hers”. I look at their eyes, so full of hope, and love as she talks to me, and tears.  I can think of nothing to say. They seem to understand, and I hold out my hands to them and they squeeze them.  And hug me, a complete stranger; suddenly bonded as if by telling their reason for holding their signs will make Donny better.  We stand together for a second, when someone else they know comes by and I say my goodbyes, and take my Cane chair and move on. My heart is so full it feels like it will burst.

Fifty yards farther down the race route I spot a family wearing the white T-shirts with a digitized print of a young man’s face on it. How nice I thought to myself.  So I stop, “That’s a great idea.” I say, “He will surely be able to pick you guys out from a crowd.” And I smile.  But once again, the smiles I get back are strained.  A woman my age holds out her hand, so I take it. “This is Brian” she says to me. “He’s not running today, his Dad is. We lost him this May in Afghanistan. So Bill is running for all those families that lost loved ones”.  I am wearing my Wounded War Heroes hat and she asks me about it, and soon I am sitting with them as if I was part of their family, a temporary Band-Aid over the hemorrhage of a lost son, a fellow wounded soul.  My heart was leaking, as were my eyes, and she told me it was ok.

It wasn’t much longer that it was time for my bride to return and I wanted to get to a good spot to take pictures so I said goodbye to Brian’s family and moved forward once more. Ahead of me was a young dad with his hands full with two young kids in a perfect spot in the road for pictures. I asked if I could join him. He said he would love the company and soon his 4 year old daughter Olivia was sitting on my knee waiting for her mother Michelle while I waited for my Bride. Two wayward souls, staring down a piece of blacktop sharing our knowledge of what our runners were wearing and what they had eaten for breakfast that morning, both apparently, were very important subjects to Olivia, and I was happy to oblige her, while I digested the things I had just witnessed.  My bride arrived in a whirlwind, looking stronger than ever before and crossed the finish for the first time ever with a smile on her face, with Olivia’s Mom Michelle right behind her.  So a quick goodbye and I was off to take more pictures.  My thoughts suddenly only on finding Lori and making sure she was okay after the run.

As I got near the back of the runners shoot I heard a tremendous roar and yelling so I turned and ran back to the fence just as four pretty girls came running down the lane behind an exhausted woman pushing a race chair.  They were screaming and yelling and jumping around hugging her and squeezing Donny and the crowd cheered as they put the medal around his neck…and I cried, along with the crowd.

So much was going on that I missed the man in the white T-shirt, but saw Brian’s family all together hugging Bill off to the side who had already come in.  They saw me and waived.  I still hadn’t found my Bride so I started up the route thinking she might have started back to where she saw me, when coming down the course was a huge wave of runners in purple and standing on the sidelines yelling and waiving her arms was the Purple Ribbon Lady, the unofficial Team in Training recruiter.  Not far from her was Lori.  I hurried to her, pausing for just a moment to squeeze the hand of Purple Ribbon Lady, whose face was streaked with tears. She just smiled at us, and nodded her head. Nothing more needed to be said.

My bride asked me who the Purple Ribbon Lady was, and why a 4 year old was hugging my leg, and who the four really cute girls that were waving to me were? And I could not explain. I told her I would tell her later.  I still haven’t. I’ve had to write it here in order to make sense of it all.  Why it was so unsettling to me? I had no idea of what went on while I ran down that road. Lori used to ask me, “did you see the Green house, or the guy running dressed as Big Bird?” and I’d say, “No, I saw 3 feet in front of me. Period” I was a focused athlete. I was so focused that I cut out a whole world of people around me.  I don’t want to be a spectator.  I don’t want to fit in that world. That’s what was so unsettling to me.  I want to run again damn it!  Or at least walk a race again! It’s like, by standing on the sideline waiting for My Bride, I was finally admitting to myself that I would never run or walk a race again, and I didn’t want to do that.

I was resisting, as if you wear some stupid spectator sign or something, or once you’re a spectator you can’t ever be anything else. Silly I know, but in this PTSD brain, I was afraid.  The thought of sitting for 2 ½ hours with strangers, without my Bride, and have them ask me questions was also very unsettling to me.  So, instead, I talked to them and asked them questions.  AND IT OPENED MY EYES, and made me ashamed.  Ashamed because I had been thinking only about myself.  I was pissed because I was reminded about my loss of ability to run, and here I was surrounded by people who had lost a loved one, and in some cases, more than one!  How little of me!

That Lady in Purple; the pretty young girls; the family in white, and of course darling Olivia, all taught me what an honor it is to be a spectator. There was an entire crowd of people suffering pain and loss, and in it, they still found Hope and Inspiration. It was a heart wrenching, amazing day.

Being a Spectator isn’t easy. But…Nothing in life worthwhile ever is. And they, those Spectators…are priceless.

AUTHOR’s NOTE: I’m not a professional writer. I’m just an old bald Chief who likes to talk to you from his heart. I didn’t go into to this particular weekend looking to write a blog, so I wasn’t thinking that way until the day after the race when I was wrestling with all this emotion.  Unfortunately, I also have Traumatic Brain Injury and short term memory loss which meant by this time I had forgotten some of the finer details, such as specific names and dialog etc.  So I filled it all in the best I could. I did not obtain the families permission to use names or likeness.  My Blogs all come with some Poetic License, or Rule 14, for those that know me, this one, more than others. I wanted you to get the story without having to know “the story”, to protect the families, and my butt. So…hope you can understand.  Chief O

The Chief – Hungarian Men

Chief Master Sergeant Damian Orslene, or the “Chief” as his friends know him, is a member of Team R4V who competed in the 2012 Warrior Games. Click here to learn more about the Chief.

As a Child growing up, one of my most favorite people was our Parish Priest Father George Popovich. Father loved to tell stories, he taught through them, and one of his utmost favorite stories rings very true to those of us down here on the Gulf Coast, which is about a man sitting on top of his roof as the flood water rise around him. Now another man rows up to rescue him in a boat, but the man on the roof refuses to get in, saying “Thanks you, but God will take care of me” Subsequently a  Park Ranger in a motorboat comes by, and finally a Coast Guard Helicopter, but each is told the same thing. Thank you, but I am fine, God will take care of me.” Of course the man drowns and is angry when he sees God at the pearly gates. The man marches up to God and says, I was a man of great faith how could you let me down like that…and God shrugs and says, “I sent you a canoe, a motor boat and a helicopter what more did you want!”

I have heard that story a thousand times, and told it quite a few times myself, but, lately I have been looking for and asking for my own sign, my own canoe, or helicopter. I have been struggling a little with my PTSD and have started back into counseling; the toil of running back and forth trying to build a house and sell a house, living in a “staged realtor ready house” has started to take a toll on me.  I haven’t been getting regular workouts in, just as we would plan something, someone would want to see the house (A good thing!) but that would force a change, and we have been routine-less for months now. I needed to find my center; My “thing” to refocus me, to help guide my days ahead. But I wasn’t sure where that was.  As you know for the past three years, by now I would be knee deep into my training for the Warrior Games, but I have been dragging my feet, not sure that is where I am supposed to be.  I have been looking for a sign.

By Marital contract my Bride is required to attend one baseball Game a year. She makes a big stink about it, but she enjoys it as much as I do. She figured out that the Mobile Bay Bears, our closest AA club, had made the playoffs and that they were playing last Thursday and decided we were going.  We stood outside our Jeep with our hands over our hearts for the National Anthem and then hurried to the ticket booth. The very nice lady there offered us free seats with our Military IDs. They always do. (Aren’t they awesome!)  It had been a long week and a longer day, and the free seats were in the upper deck, so I asked if we could have something closer even if we had to pay, me having replacement parts, I just didn’t think I could do all those stairs that night.  She asked about my service and if I was a combat vet and where I had been wounded, she had a son in the service and before you knew it we had field level seats, First Base side, no steps required and not a penny needed either. God Bless her!  Our Seats were in the middle of the row and I have a hard time shuffling in, so since the end seats were open, we sat there. If those folks came, we’d just move.

A few minutes later this voice made me turn my head because it sounded exactly like Arnold Schwarzenegger, and there standing behind me, though not Arnold, was a similarly huge man wearing a White Hungarian Olympic Team Shirt. My Father is Hungarian, he will be happy to know I sat next to someone from their Olympic Team.  They sat down next to us, and My Bride had a great conversation with his wife, Meghan who was born and raised in Mobile, AL, while I tried to win over their shy two year old daughter Franci.  The Huge Hungarian was talking finance and business with a group of older Mobile residents, while I was watching a very exciting game when I happened to catch out of the corner of my eye Huge Hungarian handing out business cards. The card made me turn in my seat and lean my head down the aisle and without thinking blurt out…”What was your Sport in the Olympics?”  Since I had not been involved in any of their previous conversations everyone stopped talking at once and turned to look at me, as if to give me their parental disapproval, but I did not care. Because the man was still holding up one of the business cards and it had a picture of the Huge Hungarian on it and ….he was THROWING A DISCUS!

“I’m a thrower” he said in the deep Arnold voice, “Hammer, Jav, Shot, Disc. I just retired after my fourth Olympics with the Hungarian National Team”. “No Shit” I said  (Sorry Editor we’re quoting here).  Still everyone looking at me, their “How dare you interrupt our time with Huge Hungarian” looks still on their faces. “I’m a thrower” I said, and his face lit up and they laughed, looking at him and then looked me, me representing 1/3 of him. “I am a Wounded Warrior and I’ve thrown in the Warrior Games, I got a Bronze Medal in Discus last year.”  Their faces freeze, not sure if they should say something or do something. Huge Hungarian and I ignore them, the world frozen out in the middle of a Championship Baseball Game in our own private Thrower’s World. “Do you have a Coach?” He asks. “Yes” I say, I have wonderful people, but they are all in Colorado or are full time Air Force and very hard to get a hold of.” He nods. “So you don’t have anyone hands on then?” “No, I said. Why, what are you going to do now?”  He has a large broad face with deep etched lines on each side of his mouth, from smiling, a thing he does quite often.  He smiles. “I’m going to train you. How would you like to color that medal up this year?” Again he smiles.  We exchanged cards, while I refused to commit to anything.  The Bay Bears won.  One more and they would be the Southern League Champs! We said our Goodbyes and headed each our own separate way.

On the hour drive home my Bride and I talked a lot about them, and even though the Bay Bears were playing again in what we hoped was the final Game of the Series the next night; we had other plans.  BUT, the next morning, when my phone rang and the voice of the Huge Hungarian came over the line, “Damian, I am here getting our tickets for tonight and we want you to come sit with us again, we had such a good time. What do you say.” my Bride smiled. Final Game why not.

We sat and talked and watched the Bay Bears desperately hold on to a single run lead for eight innings, and through it formed a plan for a single workout session to test each other. One hour together, at the very most two. The Bay Bears won the Championship. We shook hands and we all went home. And the days between that Friday the next Tuesday night blew by and I found myself excited about putting my bag together. We had to get up early for it was a 50 minute drive to the field where were starting.

He was waiting for me when I got here. My bride dropped me off and went to go do some retail therapy. Huge Hungarian would take me in his car to the gym, she could take pick me up there at 1100 as he had another meeting to go to then.  We started by standing in the field talking and warming up, then kneeling and throwing the 1.5K Discus that we each brought, nice easy throws, and then talking some more and he began to teach me the art of throwing that he had learned since he was 9 years old in Hungry. Then he drew me pictures and explained to me why we had to do things, and then we threw some more, then we got in the circle and threw some more…  Then we went to the gym.

“It’s not about what you look like in your bathing suit, it’s about throwing” said the Terminator look-a-like. ‘Easy for you to say”, I said. “Three or four years from now you could look like this too, eat right train hard with me. But you probably won’t throw any farther. We’ll get you in the best throwing shape we can without having to bulk up any of your frame.  You have the muscle mass; we just need to reshape it to teach it to throw better”. And I believed him. We rowed, and did pull downs, and dumbbell flies, all of which I had done hundreds before, but never like he showed me.  “You do them like Arnold does them, but Arnold doesn’t throw!” and he laughs a booming easy contagious laugh and he smiles.

And then we attack my core. He assesses my middle core as strong, but the rotational core that throwers need, as weak.  That is where we focus. He is a preverbal encyclopedia of knowledge about throwing, lifting, training, and nutrition. As we head to the next exercise I stop, I notice the clock on the wall says 1130. He is very late for his meeting. When I tell him, he smiles. “Nothing is more important than this” he says. And he gives me a hug and he when he wraps you up in his arms you feel like you just changed zip codes. And I smile. My kind of guy.

My Bride comes in to get me at Noon after a three hour session and finds us both still smiling.  “So” she says, “Is this the guiding sign you have been waiting for?” “Hard to ignore a 7ft perfectly chiseled, Greek Statue-like form named Gabor Mate I say, “So I guess we’re going to the Games again heh?” she asks.  “Yea, Honey, I guess so.”I answer and remembering her prediction so many months ago that I would change my mind, but to good a person to say she told me so, she just smiles.  “Never say Never” I say and smile back. And a Huge booming laugh covers us all. And in Heaven Father Popovich is smiling, and laughing, and telling stories.