Time: 2:16 a.m.
Date: February 23
Year: 1990
Location: Saudi Arabia about 10 miles behind what was later identified as the front lines

The night was like all the others. Hot days and as soon as the "lights" went out the temps dropped down to the high 40's low 50's. This night was a little different only because we knew things were going to go south and do so in a hurry.

We all had to pull our hour shifts of fire guard in the event the squad or platoon needed to be alerted quickly. This night I was lucky because my shift would not come around until 4:00 a.m., which meant an uninterrupted night's sleep. After several days of jumping around, 15 different locations in 10 days to be exact, a full night of sleep in my sleeping bag on my cot was going to be as close to heaven as you can get in what we later termed "The armpit of the world".

For many, me included, hardships meant too much butter on my toast or not enough tea to go with my ice, but all that changed when I joined the Army. It wasn't until the times in the field did I learn to appreciate things like, hot water to shave with, or meat that was not dehydrated in a vacuum sealed package. When you are forced to eat and live in such a way, you learn to grow up quickly. And you know you are in a bad way when you are driving down an Saudi highway in a Hummer and you see a little tent side oasis in the middle of no where. In this oasis there are little snippets of home and you do what you can to take some with you.

In my case, it was a $5 snickers bar. Just as in anywhere in the world, supply and demand kicked in. I wanted a taste of home and this guy knew he'd get me to pay just about anything to get it.....and I did. He would of gotten more out of me if I had more.

Back to that night.....

I took off my boots, stuffed my socks in them to keep the scorpions, snakes and spiders from getting in them, and zipped up my sleeping bag until I became a rendition of a mummy. We pretty much had the same types of conversations as we got ready for bed. Basically bad jokes, way too many farts and stories I could never repeat. Most of this had always come from a form of stress relief. 20 different people with 20 different personalities from all ages thrusted into an environment none of us wanted to be in.

Boots are off, lights are out and off to sleep.

2:16 a.m. The field phone in the tent rings. Sgt. "A" (his nickname), our squad leader had the detail of keeping the phone next to his cot at all times. It was a direct line to our company commander and had to be manned 24 hrs. a day.

He picked up the phone, and of course it woke everyone up because we all know the importance of that phone. Sgt. "A" turned on his light, picked up the phone and with a panic look on his face screamed "Gas"!

This was not a joke, no drill it was the real deal. As soon as he hung up the phone and started t o put his gear on, out of no where was the sound of a jet engine hitting its after burners right over our tents.

There is no explaining the fear that goes through ones mind during this time!

"Oh my God, is this it!? Is this the end? I didn't even get a chance to fight my way out!"

Without a hesitation the entire tent was fighting to get their MOPP "Mission Oriented Protective Posture gear on. And we had trained to do this in under 2 minutes countless numbers of time. There is a distinct difference in screwing around during training than it is when you think it's coming for real.

What seemed like hours was maybe 3-4 minutes. I looked around the tent and all I could see where 20 or so sets of eyes hiding behind their gas mask. Eye lens steaming up due to everyone fighting the urge to hyperventilate.

We've all been trained in this and it was only a matter of time to see which type of gas we got hit with. Fortunately, the gas never came, but life was no longer the same.

Later we found out the phone call was telling us the ground campaign just started and getting into our MOPP gear was a precaution. The jet flying over the tent roof top was an allied plane heading in support towards Iraq.

The only reason why I bring this up is because of the mentality we've taken with CrossFit Michiana's Spartan 300 challenge. The one thing we wanted on the back of a shirt was a saying that summed up the challenge.

"No One Fights Alone".

In the Army you were never alone. Whether you were alive or not, we took care of our own and made sure they made if back home, NO MATTER WHAT. It's not until you are willing to make that unselfish sacrifice, that 'I will be by your side to the end' mentality, then and only then will you understand the true meaning of camaraderie.

In this battle we fight now, this same one that is no less terminal or final as combat, we must pull together to save our health. To become a family and support each other in every way. There are no I am better than you's in what we do. When I set out to run the Sunburst this last Saturday, NO ONE was going to finish behind me.

There were so many firsts during this race and I was not going to let another Spartan finish behind me. I love this specific challenge for many reasons. The main one is we get to take our game to the next level and do so as a collective group. To bring the thought of, no messin' around military mentality to our training and lifestyle.

To my fellow Spartans, and all CFM'ers I am proud to know you as friends.