Delayed Entry Permitted

They say the journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step. In this case, those first steps were yellow. Before we start there, let's back up for a minute. Long before my recruit training started, I had been training my body for the rigorous training I knew was to come. The problem was this: I was never the poster child of fitness. Quite the opposite.

During my time in the Delayed Entry Program(DEPs), a program designed to help Poolees(new joins) toughen their bodies for Boot Camp, PT(Physical Training) would regularly result in me going home so exhausted, I would fall into a 12-hour power nap. No, the PT itself wasn't too difficult, I was just horribly out of shape. My first fitness test in the program wasn't exactly stellar, either. During the crunch test, a test which required at least 54 crunches in two minutes, I was cranking out a whooping 36. The pull-up test, which required a minimum of three pull-ups, I'd knocked out two. During the mile and a half run time, which had a minimum of 13 and a half minutes to complete, I barreled through in just under 18. As I said, fitness was NOT my strong point. It took months of constant PT, gym time, and the occasional skipping of my bi-daily pizza and beer order to meet the requirements to ship to Boot Camp.

Whilst training for shipment, I had constant doubts on if I would ever be truly ready to ship. I often wondered if the Marine Corps was even a path I should continue to go down. I had begun to lose faith in my abilities when I injured my arm during training-improper form at the gym coupled with a lack of stretching seemed to be likely culprits; it probably helps to point out that I knew my way around the gym about as well as a blind man in an art gallery. My faith was challenged once more when my shipment date was pushed back by three more months. It was challenged a final time when my recruiter attempted to change my mind for what job I would be training for. He again attempted to sway my mind with an Administrations job, which included a signing bonus, but an infantry Rifleman was something I felt destined to be. That sign on bonus sounds pretty nice right about now!

After seven long months, and some self physical therapy reps I found for my arm, I was ready for my final fitness test before going to the Island. On this test, I had improved my pull-ups to 14, not amazing, but much improved from the previous numbers. My crunches were up to 84, still not perfect, but once again, a vast improvement. My run time was the only thing that hadn't improved too much, clocking in at 12:58, but it was better than the bare minimum, and so I was off to my date with destiny. The night before shipping off to Parris Island, I was a nervous wreck, wondering once again if I was doing the right thing with the path I chose, but, at this point, I figured there was no way out and decided it was time to put up or shut up. Over the next few months, I heard the latter of those two phrases quite a bit, but I got enough practice in both.