5.0mi, 43:06, 2 NOV 08, Bagram, Afghanistan

Day 264 of the campaign.

iThink:
Starflyer 59, "I Drive A Lot"
Jane Wiedlin, "One Hundred Years of Solitude"

WX at 2330: 51 (11) DP 17 (-8) BP 30.18 (1022) W 6 RH 25

Odometer 3: 236.5mi

Z3.
Average/max heart rate = 162/171

Today is the Day of the Dead, or Dia de los Muertos in the original Spanish. I didn't care how late it was, I was getting in my run (and my 40x30x30x30 pushups and 50x40x40x30 situps).

I'm an atheist, but I was going to commune with those who are gone from this corporeal universe, one way or another. It was damned important to me, religion or not.

Of those people:
Tom Flynn, my father-in-law, who I remembered going drinking with one time when I visited his house in Carolina Shores, North Carolina. He was a father in so many ways and I miss him to this day.

Patricia Flynn, his wife, who died just over a year after he died of a heart attack. I honestly don't know of a grandmother who loved her grandchildren more - and was every bit the best grandmother we could have wished for the Princess and the Sledgehammer.

My grandmother, who, in spite of the language difference, tried her best to show her love for her grandchildren, some of whom, like me, she didn't see very much. The last thing I said to her was that I hoped that I'd be as good of a grandson as I could be for her.

Frederick Neumann, my violin teacher, who had been in Army counterintelligence during World War II, was the first concertmaster of the Richmond (Vrginia) Symphony Orchestra in 1957, and had been my violin teacher for twelve years. I would have asked him to commission me, but he died about two months before I was commissioned. His wife, Margaretta, had died my senior year at prep school; it was in her memory that I had dedicated my senior recital there.

Steve Gomeringer, the supply specialist at the Johns Hopkins ROTC program. He was a retired Air Force sergeant who had been at Hopkins for years, who I'd help out all the time, and was one of the few who was really in my corner when a lot of other people thought I'd never amount to much as a cadet. I'd like to think he was gratified when I became the cadet battalion commander, normally reserved for the best cadet in the senior year class at the end. He died three months before I was commissioned.

Gary Vasquez, who'd come to my old cavalry troop as a new scout right out of the schoolhouse, went to Ranger School and would not quit until he graduated. He came back six months later with his Ranger tab, which says much about his fortitude. I remember his fascination when I'd showed him how I wrote orders as a troop commander, to show how things differed from what he'd learned at Ranger School. Gary was killed in Afghanistan a month ago. I intend to visit his gravesite when I get back to the United States.

Jason Swiger, who had also come to my cavalry troop as a new soldier, died in 2007 in Baqubah, Diyala Province, Iraq. I had reduced Jason in rank once, and a lesser man would have quibbled about it. He came back from it, was eventually promoted to sergeant, beyond his original grade, and became every bit the kind of soldier I was glad I had. As his commander, I'd like to think, in a very small conceit, that I might have had something to do with his becoming the man he had become.

Jon Grassbaugh was the logistics officer for the same squadron as Jason Swiger. Jon died from an IED strike in Zaganiyah, also in Diyala Province, Iraq, a few weeks after Jason was killed. I knew Jon from the Pershing Rifles alumni network from Johns Hopkins, and he had asked me about my experiences in the 82d Airborne Division. There is a sense of dread that I might have been one of the contributors to his death; in the sense of I gave him one of the things that may have ultimately killed him. That gnaws at me from time to time. I wear a black KIA bracelet on my wrist with Jon's name on it every day. I will visit Jon at Arlington National Cemetery next time I get to Washington, D.C.

John Engeman, who was one of my coworkers a few years ago, who was killed by an IED in Iraq in 2006. John was a tireless worker and a voice of reason, in spite of the unbelievably intense stupidity that he and I had endured in our job at the time.

Matt Worrell, who was killed when his helicopter was shot down in 2006. Matt and I were lieutenants together in our first assignment to an armored cavalry squadron at Fort Hood, Texas. I found out about Matt the same day John Engeman died, just a few days after I got home from Iraq.

Tom Witt, my classmate from the Armor Officer Basic Course, who died when his tank rolled over in a training accident in 1995. Tom's a few rows over from Jon Grassbaugh in Section 60 at Arlington.

Emory Elmore, who committed suicide during his junior year. He and I attended the same prep school together and were both on the academic team and in the school theater.

Kent Greene, who I visited once in New York City, and who I remember fondly from our shared time on an internet mailing list for the TV show My So-Called Life. Kent died of pneumonia in 2000.

And among others, my dog Thor, who was a faithful running and road marching companion, and always brightened my day when I came home at the end of the day.

I don't really consider myself superstitious or excessively sentimental, but when I die, I want some of Thor's hair buried with me...and that of Household6. The rationale, not grounded in any kind of reason, is that at the end, what was left of us will come back. If I'm buried with the ones I loved, then I'll see them in the afterlife.

There's some necessary emotional and spiritual bloodletting that I do from time to time. This is one of those times.

Splits
SGMT AGGRG SEGMT PERMI AVGPC DIST
1.00 08:47 08:47 08:47 08:47 1.00
1.00 17:22 08:35 08:35 08:41 2.00
1.00 25:54 08:32 08:32 08:38 3.00
1.00 34:26 08:32 08:32 08:36 4.00
1.00 42:51 08:25 08:25 08:34 5.00
0.03 43:06 00:15 08:20 08:34 5.03