At Your Own Pace

There were two points in my military career that I felt truly healthy.  The first was when I completed basic training.  I was eighteen years old.  We ran everywhere, and we did push ups from the time we were awakened to the time we passed out long in to the night.  I left basic training ten pounds lighter.  I was strong and confident for the first time in my young life.  From that point on, I pretty much went downhill.  In our advanced individual training, we weren't allowed to wear running shoes anymore.  In our leaders infinite wisdom, they thought it would be more appropriate to do our physical fitness in combat boots.  So, we ran in boots.
I did this until I was sent to Germany nearly a year later.  Because we worked shift, our unit had no regular fitness program.  We did whatever we could on our own.  In the beginning, I would go to the installation's gym, but I rarely if ever ran on my own.  The reason?  It was during this time I first began to feel the pain in my knees and only when I ran.  And it didn't seem to make a difference that I could now run in the appropriate shoes.
Still, every six months, we were given an Army Physical Fitness Test (APFT) which included push ups, sit ups, and a two mile run.  The score was based on age and gender.  I always did extremely well.  The standards weren't that difficult for female soldiers at the time.  When the unit participated in the  "Run for your life" 100 mile club, I joined in...despite the pain.  In the program, you logged every time you ran.  It took a while, but I eventually surpassed the 100 miles.  I was young and stubborn.  I am still stubborn.
Off and on, my knees would give me problems.  They weren't quite at the point where they would give out under me, but they hurt enough for me to see the doctor.  I was given a "run at your own pace" profile and a bottle of 800 mg Motrin.  The profile usually lasted a month or so.  Really, it made little difference.  With shift work, we were already at a "at our own pace" type unit.
I got out of the Army for a while to attend college, but I remained in uniform...in the National Guard and in ROTC.  During a normal APFT at ROTC advanced camp, I stepped wrong and twisted my knee.  I ended up in surgery.  I recovered "at my own pace", well enough to return to camp the following year and pass the test.  After graduation, I came back on active duty as an officer.  I went to Korea.  My knee hurt at times, but I thought it was healing.  I kept active.  I even taught aerobics to our company.  
I was deployed, then deployed again.  It was on my next assignment in Arizona, that I finally earned my 300, a maximum score on the APFT..my first.  Maybe it was the heat or maybe the altitude, but, in Arizona, I actually ran well.  Sure, it still hurt some, but I ran...I ran like the wind.  I believed my problem was fixed.  They gave me this amazing badge, then told me officers didn't really wear them.  So, my badge of honor, my badge of survival, it went in a drawer with other memories of my days in uniform.  It was okay, I wore the badge in my heart...as the second point in my career I felt truly healthy.  
After more training, I went to North Carolina as a dirty nasty leg, a non-airborne soldier.  I had hoped I would heal well enough for airborne school, but it never happened.  It wasn't long before my old injury resurfaced.  Before long, I started to notice I was bumping into other runners in formation.  I was running crooked.  And the pain seemed to spread from my knee to my back and up into my neck.  I went to the doctor.  I was given another profile.  It was pretty much the same as before..."run at your own pace", and a bottle of 800mg Motrin.  I was angry.  The doctors had said my knee was healed.  Now, I seemed to be worse than before.
The crazy thing was, I continued to get high scores on my APFT.  Mostly, I made up for the running problem by over maxing the push ups and sit ups.  I could do those for days.  On the runs, I just did what I could.  Sometimes, that's all you can do.  As far as the run went, I'd come to the conclusion I wasn't going to get miraculously healed.  All they were ever going to do is give me anti-inflammatories and tell me to rest it.  They didn't know what the problem was.  So, I did what I knew I had to do...I sucked it up and drove on.
Well, near the end, I was switched to the alternate APFT (push ups, sit ups and the stationary bike).  I passed that as well.  
When we returned to Arizona, I was told it was time to give up.  And I did that.  I just gave up.  I took the profile.  I took the pain meds I really didn't want to take.  I did physical therapy three times a week.  I even went through another rather painful knee surgery, a last chance effort to salvage my career.  But it was too late.  I had done too much damage to the rest of my body over the past twenty years.
I was retired and sent back to quarters to wait for my husband until he came home from the war.  Both our families were on the other side of the United States.  It was just me and our youngest son in that big house.  I had just lost the only job I had ever known.  To make matters worse, my father had recently died.  I had no clue what I could or couldn't do physically.  My knee continued to give out, I repeatedly threw my back out, and nearly every night, I went to bed early with chronic migraines.  I felt like a bad mom.  Our little boy needed me to be "Army Strong".  To keep him busy while his dad was away at war, I enrolled him in a karate class.
One day, sick and tired of being sick and tired, I took a chance.  I took a class too.  First, I took a belly dancing class, but I got nervous when they kept asking me to be a part of the group that did shows.  Too much..too soon.  Then, I took a yoga class.  The small classes were relaxed and stress free.  Not really an escape from the real world, but a better way of facing it.  Yoga redefined me.  Yoga showed me, regardless of my injuries, there were things I could do (simple stuff, like breathing and stretching).  But with the economy the way it was (and still is), the fitness club I loved eventually went out of business and I was left with only my yoga DVDs.  As I slowly got my confidence and flexibility back, I wanted to do more.  While shopping, I picked up a Leslie Sansone DVD (mostly because she wasn't a twig and she looked about my age), and started walking.  Since then, I haven't stopped walking.  Combined with weight training, a few of my old Army tricks, and a healthy diet, I at least have my strength and my confidence back (even with my issues).    
This is my story.  Each of us has a story.  I don't know if there is a moral to it, except to say...its not over until is over.  There is always something you can do.  No one is too broken, too damaged, too lost, or too old...to get healthy.  You just have to do it...at your own pace.
You know what?  I think I've earned that badge again.  : )