Cold Hearted

Chapter 2

My lungs are burning and my legs feel like lead. Sweat is dripping down my face. I'm definitely not at the front of the pack, but I'm keeping up.

Somewhere around lap 52, the smiles around me seem to disappear. A look of pain or pure concentration takes their place.

Around lap 71, some guys started falling over their own feet, their bodies unable to carry them any further. This is one place where I have the advantage - I can endure.

After lap 78, I lost track of how many laps I've run. Everything around me seems to wash away. I hit runner's high. There is only me in this moment. I can hear my own heartbeat, I can feel the breath entering my lungs. I no longer feel pain anywhere and I don't care how long I still have to run. My body moves on its own accord, and in this moment I am completely free.

"Alright, stop" comes the words from my instructor, Keegan P. Russ, as I've come to learn.

As soon as I hear those words, my legs seem to understand faster than my mind does. I lay down on my back, my arms above my head, my lungs heaving.

I look around and see some guys crossing the finish line, falling down beside to me. A breathless laugh escapes my lips. Keegan wasn't lying when he said he would push us.

"Everyone get the fuck up! This isn't a fun Sunday run where you can go and take a nap after. The obstacle course is waiting" Keegan shouts, his eyes filled with annoyance.

I unsteadily rise to my feet, and make the trek over to the obstacle course. As it comes into view, I can feel my heart rate picking up. This is nothing like the ones back at Marine Corps boot camp, and even those took a good few runs to master.

"Listen up, recruits. This isn't some game. You need to be focused at all times. If you make a mistake in here at the wrong moment you can easily break a bone or two. Move fast, but cautiously" come the words from our sergeant.

I take a deep breath to steal my nerves. Fast, accurate movements, that's it. I take one last look at the obstacles, and then, before I can change my mind, I start jogging.

Okay, first, parallel bars. I jump up and grip the cool steel tightly, using only my arms I move my body forward. Easy.

Next up, tires. I look down at my feet the entire time, careful not to misplace them. As soon as my foot leaves the last tire, I look up. Low wall. I quicken my pace slightly. My foot hits the wall, and my hands grab the top, hoisting my body over. High wall. I grab the rope and lean back, with my feet firmly planted against the wall, I pull myself up.

That wasn't too bad, I just need to keep moving forward.

As I approach the low logs, I fall onto my stomach and move forward using the technique my drill instructors taught me. I move my one leg up so that my knee is parallel with my ribs, and then do the same for the other one.

i keep rotating my legs, letting my arms rest.

Next obstacle, cargo nets.

I grab the rope and start climbing, switching between looking up and down. My hands grab the net and i carefully step onto the rope with my feet. Once I reach the top, I realize how far down the ground is. A flash of fear passes through me. I grip onto the log at the top instinctively. I can feel my heart rate picking up. My hands start to feel clammy, but there is no turning back now. I haul myself over the top and start my descent.

I'm jogging again, my breathing getting more labored with each step, each movement of my lungs taking up more energy than usual.

Balance log. I move fast, placing each step right on the middle of the log. Fast, accurate movements, that's it.

I leap from the balance log, my lungs burning like coals in a fire.

Hoohah logs. I quickly place my hands behind my head for more stability, then quickly run up. On the way down, I turn slightly sideways making the descent a little easier.

I find myself under the transfer ropes. As I take a moment to catch my breath, I survey my surroundings. Some soldiers are soaring over the obstacle course, while others prioritize speed and end up hitting the ground, forcing them to restart that obstacle.

I grip the rope, pulling myself up. One arm above the other, one arm above the other, just keep pushing. I swing, grabbing the steel ring, then the next rope, and fast rope down.

Back to jogging. Again.

My arms are burning, and each breath feels like it's collecting less oxygen. My focus begins to wane as exhaustion takes hold. My legs tremble slightly, still fatigued from the previous run.

Fast, accurate movements, that's all. I suck in a breath, desperately trying to alleviate the burning in my chest.

I jump up onto the first log. I get myself standing and leap onto the next one. My stomach collides with the log causing me to wince. I practically fall of off the other side, stumbling as I hit the ground, my legs barley able to keep me upright.

I hate the next one, the weaver. Those steel bars may seem innocent, but they are almost as evil as those sons of bitches we fight. I throw my arm over the first bar, followed by my leg, feeling the steel press into my side. Swinging underneath the bar, I hook my leg around the next one, releasing my grip on the first bar. I repeat this movement, until I reach the end of the obstacle.

Don't think about the pain, detach yourself from it. Remember, this is what you are here for, this is going to make you a Ghost, I quietly think.

The next evolution is definitely not for people who fear heights. I grab the first platform, lifting my legs up, I hook my feet into the spaces between the wood and pull myself up.

As i manage to get my body onto the first platform, my arms feel like jelly, their to strained to be able to lift my body weight a second time. Time to adapt and overcome. I grab the next platform, facing away from it. Using my abs, I lift my body backwards and land on the platform.

My eyes burn, as sweat keeps rolling into them. Pain radiates from my tired hands, and every breath fuels the fire in my lungs.

Okay, accuracy is key here. I lay my chest onto the rope, hooking one foot over it for extra security. I start pulling myself down, one small movement at a time. The gnawing feeling of if I fall now I'm definitely breaking something not allowing me to move fast.

A wave of relieve washes over me, as my fingers brush the wooden pole, signaling the end of the obstacle, and I jump onto solid ground.

I'm almost finished. Last push.

I force my legs to move forward, but the air around me seems to be void of oxygen, and my legs feel weighed down.

I grab yet another rope, and I am barely able to hoist myself onto the balance log. It takes every ounce of energy for me to complete this once simple task.

I jump from the log and grip the threaded steel of the monkey-bars, I swing across them, my forearms and hands protesting the entire way, and becoming stiff due to lactic acid buildup.

The final obstacle finally comes into view. I stagger towards the vaults, and throw myself over them, my arms threatening to give way each time. As I get myself over the last vault, I'm astonished at how I managed to complete the obstacle.

I jog the last 200 meters to the finish line, my body riddled with exhaustion. Every fiber of my body is screaming, but despite the fatigue and pain, I can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment, I fucking did it. It almost killed me, but I managed to finish and in the end, that's all that matters.

I make my way to the sixteen others who have already finished. I lock eyes with Keegan, who gives me a barley noticeable nod.

I know that I still have a long way to go, and I have all but earned his approval, but I take it as a small win. It's desperately needed.

As the last person crosses the finish line Keegan looks down at his watch and mutters,

"That was an absolute shit show. I'm sure there are 60-year-old men at this base that can complete this obstacle course faster. This is Ghost training, not a fucking tea party."

As he finishes his sentence the siren sounds, signaling lunch.