Carry Me Back to Hell

It is beyond hot  here in Virginia Beach. It is a record-breaking, heatstroke-inducing, sun-scorched inferno.Naturally, we sensible MUs are staying inside in the deliciously air-conditioned hotel.

I am reminded of the worst days of my life, those days that, as a student at the School of Music, mere miles from here, I was forced to exercise with Marines, who relished running in formation through the golf course in August. Nothing, not triple digit temperatures, jungle-like humidity or monsoon warnings, stopped these hideous afternoon drills.

Fortunately, not all Marines are clinically insane. I owe my life to SSGT Scott Johnson, who, as PT leader, generously told us before each golf course marathon: "Fall out only if you feel dangerously weak."

I never made it past the sand trap next to the green on the first hole.