EVERY DAY I’M HUSTLIN’ Nonfiction by Bret Allen Green
O
n an early morning day in January, a rhythmic and soft thudding sound can be heard through the rows of evergreen and Angel Oak trees. Rays of light shine through the leafless trees onto a small, light brown, and well-traveled path. A runner wearing navy-blue sweatpants and a reflective yellow shirt can be seen slowly making his way down the path. His name is Bret. His feet are pounding the ground with the grace of a sack of wet concrete. At a closer glance, it becomes clear that any thoughts of this being a graceful runner can easily be dispelled. His quick and grumbly breathing leave a small cloud of fog behind him as the warm breath contacts the nippy South Carolina January air. Why would anyone be running this early in the morning at such low temperatures through the woods? The reason is a person, and his name is Chaplain Adams. According to Chaplain Adams, who might be slightly delusional depending on who you ask, “Running brings out the best in you.” He also lives on the idea that four peanut M&Ms and a pint of coffee at 0400 is a reasonable breakfast. This run was no option, but in fact PT for new recruits at Naval Nuclear Power School in Goose Creek, South Carolina. My first day at NNPTC started off in contrast to everything that I had hoped. It was 0500 on a Saturday! Nobody had mentioned the previous day that we had a 0500 wake-up call. In fact, I believe that Chaplain Adams rather enjoyed himself while yelling at 20 new recruits. I barely managed to get my clothes on correctly, and I am pretty sure I missed almost an entire flight of stairs. I somehow managed to make it to the bottom landing relatively unharmed. As Chaplain Adams led us through our routine
warmup, he began to talk to us about a river that we would be running to. A scenic run through the countryside did not seem like such a bad idea. Being fresh out of the bootcamp, the only thing I had really seen for the past three months was base concrete roads or an indoor track. What he failed to mention was that the river run would be five kilometers! The pace that we started out with seemed about normal. Eight minutes per mile was a steady pace that all of us had become accustomed to. At about the 10-minute mark my bunkmate, David Schmidt, asked me where I thought we were going. I noticed that we had not really changed directions and usually our runs finish where we started. At this point I started getting a little concerned. Surely, we should be getting close to the end. Just as the thought crossed my mind a clearing in front of us started to open and we could see the river in front of us. I was relieved to see the river. Off in the distance we could see another part of the base and though that maybe we had lost track of direction in the early hours through the groggy run. To my surprise, Chaplain Adams had just passed me in full stride back the way we came. I was shocked. I thought this was the end. Nope. We had only made it halfway! In utter disbelief, I made the turn at the river and started running back the same way that I had just come from. Around the 20-minute mark everything started to blend together. The trees looked the exact same as the ones before them. Every step that I took started to feel like a step backwards. As my exhaustion started to set in, even the footprints left behind in the opposite direction became disheartening. At this point I was beginning to
“Running is my way of abandoning everything and devoting myself entirely to the act of running.”
- Chaplain Adams
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ROOTS & REFLECTIONS
