Bagram Fat Camp

OK- before I came home, I had not told anyone at home that I have been dieting.  Over the last 5 months, I have lost about 18 pounds.  It has been incredibly difficult.  I have eaten less and exercised more than I ever thought I could.  For years, I had thought I “couldn’t “ lose weight.  Because I had tried- believe me- I had tried!   But I didn’t try as hard as I had while deployed.  And I’m not sure I could have done it at home because I could not have exercised as much as I did while deployed.

It all started in May when I went to the dietician and asked for help.  She had worked one on one with some other folks and they had done really well.  I had already been used to logging my calories and exercise for years- sometimes seriously and sometimes off and on.  Mostly reactively- I’d log calories and then reflect that I had gone over my goal and move on.  Not really planning my day.  So I met with her and she came up with guidelines- this many starches, this much protein, etc.  I took that and came up with rules- 2 cups of veggies and 3-4 oz of lean protein for lunch, for example.  Using those guidelines, I could go to the dining hall and choose what I was in the mood for. 

The other thing she did was make me put my scale away.  I am used to weighing in at least once a day.  My morning weight doesn’t determine my mood for the day, but I want to know what it is.  I’ll often weigh in after a workout to see how much I sweated.  Then weigh in before bed to see how much I gained during the day.  When we talked about putting the scale away, it was really scary to me!  I cried.  I would not have predicted that I would react that way, but I did.  I was all stressed out at the thought that a whole week could go by and I would not know how I was doing.  I was worried that my weight could get away from me in just a week of not monitoring it.  That was terrifying.  I think I realized at that point that I had a problem.

The next thing I learned was how I think about food.  I think about food all day long.  From the time I wake up, I am thinking about what I will eat for breakfast.  Then I am planning my lunch and dinner throughout the day.  I was taught to not throw food away, so it was a new concept for me to go through the chow hall line and say I only wanted a small amount, they give me whatever I want and then I have to throw some out because they gave me way too much.  Just knowing they gave me too much and not wanting to waste it was stressful.  But I eventually learned to just eat the parts that were really good and stop when I was full.  And don't think about all those starving Afghans or the cost of wasted food when I throw the extra away.

My other big weakness is sweet snacks.  I love chocolate and all kinds of candy!  And I like it every day.  I can’t imagine how people say they never eat sweets.  Or they are giving up sweets.  I think I’m addicted.  And I don't say that lightly.  I think about it all the time.  I think of ways to get it.  I get stressed if I can’t have it.  If I don't get it when I want it, I keep thinking about it.  If they found out that chocolate causes cancer, I’d be in huge trouble!    So I had to learn how to cut back on those, just eat smaller amounts, eat them slowly, and love every bite.  I had done that in the past, so I knew it was doable.

Exercise- wow!  I exercised at least 90 minutes per day.  When logged my calories, turns out I averaged 1150 calories per workout.  That’s a lot!!  I did 6 workouts per week.  I did take one day off!  And when I start something and get serious about it, I get a bit obsessive.  I logged every calorie I took in and every one I burned off.  At the end of the week, I printed out my log and analyzed where I could have done better and tried to do better the next week.  I learned what to avoid, what things I can’t have or have to instantly get rid of half of it when they put it on my plate, and what I can have tons of.  What satisfies and what doesn’t.  And what size meals work for me.  I have discovered that a huge breakfast of 600 calories or so holds me well until lunch.

This journey has not been easy.  I have hit plateaus that stress me out.  I think there are days when I have over exercised.  I know that I cannot exercise this much when now that I am home.  I think I can maintain the lower calories for a couple of more weeks until I get to my ultimate goal (after a couple of weeks of enjoying American food again, of course!).  I’m looking forward to getting back to maintenance calories.

Anyway- that’s been my journey and project over the last 3-4 months.  I was surprised at what an emotional issue this was for me.  I didn’t post this until I got home and talked to Jack about it.  I can't wait to go clothes shopping!

Coming Home! Written 12 Sept

Oh my goodness.  What a journey this has been so far.  I hate traveling with the military cattle call!  I had a report time on 11 Sept of 1500.  I had no idea what time that meant we would really be leaving.  I started my day with a 9.11K Patriot’s Run.  Turns out he 9.11K was just symbolic because the run was actually 6.4 miles, which is a bit over 10K!  I did not budget my energy for that far, but it turned out OK.  My pace was 10:22 per minute, which is slower than my 10K pace of 10:00 2 yrs ago, but faster than I was 2 months ago.  But I was hurting at the end.  I was still a bit sore from the dog wrestling, too.  After my race, I laid down for about an hour, but was unable to sleep, although I was exhausted.  Two nights before I had only gotten about 4 hours of sleep.  Not sure why I woke at 0230, but once I got a knock at the door at 0300 to sign some emergency leave papers, I was definitely not able to go back to sleep and I ended up getting up at 0330 and doing laundry.  I got started on a bunch of other stuff I had to do and was able to get all my stuff done that day.  I lay down at 8:45 PM to sleep and was just going into a deep sleep when the air raid sirens went off.  It was a rocket attack.  I finally went to bed at 11:30 PM form that and then was in a nice deep sleep at 0330 when we got another attack. The enemy was celebrating the end of Ramadan and Sept 11^th in style!  So I was up permanently from that- it was time to go to the race by  the time they called all clear.  So I ran 6.4 miles tired and sore.  Came back, laid down for an hour, got up and cleaned my room and finished packing and showered.  About when I was getting ready to go in to work and finish a few last things, the air raid siren went off again!  We had not had a daylight attack in the 6 months I was there- not even in March and April when they were attacking every week.  So I hunkered down waited a while and then went in to work.  I had lunch with a few friends and then went around and said my good byes. I packed up the truck and a friend drove me to the terminal at 1500 (3pm).

Once I got there, the fun started.  I was actually concerned that my flight would not get out at all.  Between mechanical problems and rocket fire, I was thinking it may not happen. I arrived at the appointed time of 1500 and then had an hour wait after check in and before we could go through customs.  Then was the hour wait out in the customs yard while they finished about 150 Army personnel before they started the Air Force.  Customs is an interesting affair.  First you load all your junk on a table.  Then you empty your pockets into your hat and get a body scan in those scanners that show everything.  But the females did not have to get that since it was males doing the looking.  I just got wanded.  I happened to make a comment about when was the body cavity search and instantly about 3 guys volunteered to do mine…yikes!  After the scan, you go to a table where you have to empty all of your bags onto a table and a customs agent (some poor Air Force sap who thought they were going to a good job but got stuck with customs instead) goes through all your stuff.  Everything!  Only my guy was not very thorough.  He didn’t even want to see my authorization letter for my switchblade.  He didn’t open any containers or anything.  I watched a few others later and they were opening everything and patting down clothing.  I got off easy!  After the customs search,  they put us in lock down – the plan was it would be about 7 hours, but military flights aren’t like civilian flights.  In the Air Force world, the flight time is a guestimate.  They make you show up way early and then they just get things moving as the manning and air traffic permit.  We were supposed to take off at 1130pm.  I lay down for about 90 minutes and tried to nap, but that didn’t really work very well.  Once they lock you down, you cannot leave.  Dinner was a cup of Total Raisin Bran with some cranberry applesauce I pilfered out of an MRE.  Later I had an MRE cracker with MRE peanut butter.  After resting, I got up and walked around outside a bit.  After that got boring, I came in and watched the customs stuff going on from above on the steps that go to the second floor.  I could also see the baggage scanner and talk to the guy who was running it- that was pretty neat.  Next thing, I know, they are calling us to go load up the plane!  It was about 2 hrs early- wooohooo!    

So we grab out stuff and head to the plane.  I came in on a C-130 cargo plane, which is loud and a rough ride.  The only seating is the web seating along the walls.  The toilet was a pull down affair with a curtain that went partly around it, but I had to go, so I used it.  I did not care!  The flight home was on a C-17- this is a huge cargo plane that has over 100 seats.  I was one of the last to get on, but it turned out fine.  I got an aisle seat.  I remembered from getting here that the ride was short before because I was watching a movie on my iPod and did not get all the way through it.  Some guy was trying to tell me it was a 4 hour flight.  I was hoping he was wrong.  We got on the plane and sat for about an hour while they loaded the cargo on the pallets behind us.  Then they closed up the back and we sat for another 30 minutes or so.  Once they said we were taking off, I mentioned to the guy next to me that I we had passed the first hurdle- breaking down- and now all we had to do was get airborne without getting shot down.  He is Army and it’s apparent that he had not really thought about that possibility!  We took off uneventfully for what turned out to be a 2 hour flight.  Let me describe the seating.  If all there was was me and my airline pillow- no problem.  But there is me…with my giant flak vest on…with my helmet strapped to the front.  With my carry on (a soft briefcase with a strap) slung across my chest.  With my gigantic military backpack with a pillow strapped to one side and a blanket to the other side.  Picture ALL THAT crammed into an airline seat!  I actually was able to put the backpack in the seat next to me, but the flack vest, helmet, and briefcase are all on me.  I could barely move a muscle or adjust my posture for 3 hours on that plane.  Closer to 4 by the time we landed, taxied, waited for cargo to be unloaded and then we able to get up.  My butt was killing me.  That was the easy part.

Next, we file onto busses. This is 0130 by now and I have had about 8 hours sleep in the last 70 hours.  From the busses, we go into a building where they collect out IDs.  We have a seat and bored briefers fly through welcoming and information slides.  Then they tell us about 4 different times and locations and processes we have to be at, but nothing is written down and sometimes they don’t give the whole story.  Then the Army leaves and the AF has to stay for another briefing.  Finally, we get out at about 0230.  I am told I had to go find my checked bags, put my personal bag on a shelf, but make sure everything I needed for the next 72 hours was out of it because I would not be able to get back into it until it was time to leave.  Well, as sleep deprived as I was, I remembered to get the DVD player and some movies out, but I forgot my sweatshirt.  Plus, I was sweating from lugging my crap all over the place and did not realize it was cold here in Kyrgyzstan.  Then I had to drop my chem bag in some wet box and was told I’d see it again later to turn it in.  I had to check into lodging and get my room, then get linens, then get my ID back at 0400, then go check my outbound flight starting at 0800, then at 0900 go turn in my vest and helmet and chem gear.   Turns out the ID cards were ready early, so I picked that up at about 0330.   I went to lodging and got my room without problem.  Then went to get linens.  They gave me an Army blanket and a plastic pillow.  Apparently, they were out of everything else.  I asked for an extra blanket and the lady objected, but after I said fine, I brought my own, she gave me another one.  So picture this- I have a flak vest on, helmet strapped to chest- that’s 40 pounds right there.  My briefcase is probably 8 or 10 pounds slung across my chest.  My packpack is at least 20 pounds and is on my back.  I am carrying an armload of blankets and a pillow and looking for my dorm in the dark at 0400 looking for my dorm.  The buildings were not labeled consistently and building 470 was nowhere near 465.  But after about 20 minutes of lugging 70 pounds of crap and linens all over the place in a drizzling rain, I found my dorm, made it to my room, made my bed,  put my stuff down.  I then made my way to the dining for an actual meal because I was starving.  After breakfast, I got back to my room at about 0500, took my pants and boots off and laid down for what I expected to be about 3 hours of sleep.  At about 0530, the door opens and someone flips on the light!  It was my new roommate, who, when I asked her to turn off the light, didn’t.  She rooted around for about 10 minutes and then managed to find her flashlight and turned off the overhead light.  She is a Marine.  Most AF personnel keep a small flashlight attached to our uniform collar for occasions such as this.  She didn’t even apologize.  She then proceeded to go in and out for the next hour or so, waking me up each time. 

I had decided that there was no need to check my flight right at 0800, so my next appt would be at 0900 to turn in my vest.  I set my watch alarm to 0830, not really sure that I would hear it, but hoping I would.  I did not remember where I had put my alarm clock.  I found it later in my backpack.  Next thing I know, after a few hours of waking up frequently, my roommate entered the room again.  I looked at my watch and it was 0900!  YIKES!  I leaped up, threw on my uniform, put in my contacts because I couldn’t find my glasses quickly, and rushed off to find the place to turn in chem gear.  Turning in the gear was an easy process.  After that, I headed to breakfast, bought a long sleeve PT shirt at the BX because it’s pretty chilly here and my sweatshirt is in my luggage, then scheduled a massage tomorrow because I am still sore, went to the coffee shop and had a café mocha with way too much mocha (believe it or not!!) and read the Stars and Stripes, and now I am sitting here on my bed telling you about my day. 

I think I will read for a bit and then take a nap.  If all goes according to plan, I’ll be at BWI the evening of the 14^th- then crabs and beer with Kristin- yippppeeee!  

Dog Attacks! What fun!

There is a team of dog handlers here whose dogs are called in when they have to go get bad guys.  One of the handlers is an Air Force female, one is Army and there were two Navy guys when I met them tonight.  There was also a Marine who was just passing through.  The dogs need to be trained to take down people and to obey their handler’s every command and that takes a lot of practice.  And it’s not as much fun or valuable training for the dog to practice on the same people over and over again.  So that’s where we come in.  they let perfectly gullible strangers come in and get chased down by their dogs.  I had a contact who set it up for me and we went tonight (9-8) so I could be an adjunct dog trainer (my terminology!).  Or maybe it’s just dog meat…

There were three dogs there- Rocky belonged to my Navy handler, Don was with the Army handler, and there was a pretty female dog who was with the Air Force female handler.  Then there was another one that was crazy.  His handler was Army, and left from another base for R&R last week.  He was in such a hurry that he told the guys there that the dog was “fine” and left.  Well, that dog is not fine.  It’s job is to track and chase bad guys, on his own, and then corner them and wait for the handler to arrive.  Apparently, he is mean and he bites.  The Air Force female (they guys call her Female Jones- not sure if there was a Male Jones or not!) went into the kennel a few days ago to change its water and it lunged at her and got a hold of her arm.  She was able to get it off her with her other hand and then it got her other hand.  She had to go to the hospital.  That dog was massive.  It’s really kind of sad because the Navy guy said that they will send it away and try to rehabilitate it, but if they can’t, it will have to be put down.  There’s no way a dog trained like that could go to a home.  I told him they should contact Cesar Milan and tell the story.  It would be great for him to save an Army dog and it would be great for the Army because they could look good for not killing this dog who is a hero in Afghanistan for catching a gajillion bad guys.

The nurse who took me over there has a German Sheppard at home, but she was afraid of the dogs hurting her, so she just wanted to watch and photograph.  Another nurse wanted to come watch.  Another Army guy decided to come and watch as well, thinking maybe he would do it the next day.  But I talked him into doing it tonight.  More on that later. 

First, I had to take everything out of my pockets that might stab me or get ruined if it got bitten.  Then I put on this giant suit- bottoms and top. It probably weighed 80 pounds and I could hardly move.  The handler carefully explained the procedure.  I asked him if the dog would bite my face….his response?  “Only as a last resort.”  WELL WHAT THE HECK ARE THE FIRST RESORTS?!?!?!?!?!?!  He said the first resorts are the arms, then the back, then the legs.  Oh…OK.

My dog’s name was Rocky.  He is a beautiful German Sheppard who looked so happy to see me.  Really!  He was jumping around and smiling and wagging his tail.  His ears were all perked up and you could tell he loved his handler.  The handler told me to move when he said move and when I was not supposed to run, to be absolutely still.  OK- I can do that!  The first exercise was for me to hold my arm next to my body with the elbow bent at a 90 degree angle.  The dog was released from about 15 feet away and came flying at me at full speed and leaped up and clamped down on my arm.  I gave him some good shakes and after a bit, the handler said to stop moving.  Moving stopped!  Then he yelled “OUT!” and the dog stopped and he told him to heel and the dog went tearing back to the handler’s side, then he was told to lie down and stay and he did.  Next was the running portion.  Lumbering is more like it, but I did as I was told.  I ran as fast as I could and then remembered to look over my shoulder as instructed and here comes that dog as fast as lightening and he leaped up and grabbed my arm.  Eventually he was able to pull me down.  I kept my face turned away so he wouldn’t think it would be great fun to eat it as a last resort. The handler called him off and then he asked me if I wanted to do it again- heck yeah!!!!!  So I did it again, but somehow I tripped and went down and just waited for him to pounce on me.  He sure did!  He grabbed my back first, then my right arm and he got some of my tricep in his mouth.  He tried to get a better grip and moved down a bit.  He let go as soon as the handler called him off.  The last exercise was where I was supposed to give up.  My job was to run and then stand there facing the dog like I wanted to give up and at some point the dog would decide to run past me.  I couldn’t wait to see if this would work!!  I ran and then stood there and the dog was running at me as fast as he could go and at the last second the handler yelled something I can’t remember and Rocky pulled to the side at the last second and then kept going, then the handler called him to heel.  He was just amazing.

After my turn was over, “John” decided to go.  Remember how he didn’t really want to do it tonight?  Keep that in mind.  He gets all suited up for Don to chase him.  Don is some other kind of dog that looks like a German Sheppard, but isn’t.  I can’t remember what.  Anyway, Don looked even happier than Rocky was to be getting himself some flesh!  So John runs out and is actually able to stand up as Don chased him down and then leaps up and grabs a hold of John's arm.  John did not go down as the 80 pound dog is hanging on.  Around and around they go until Don is called off- grinning from ear to ear.  The dog, not John.  Then they do it again and this time John goes down.  And then there is one last time.  John is running for all he’s worth, the dog leaps up and grabs his left arm again and John goes face down.  And he’s not moving much as the dog is pulling on him.  Next thing I hear is Doc! Doc!  I leap up and run full speed down the course about 50 yards and John is laying on his face, his forehead is bleeding and he is not moving.  Holy crap!   He head was bleeding A LOT and I couldn’t find a bandage or anything to stop it.  I almost ripped my shirt off and then remembered I had a soft reflector belt in my pocket.  So I fished that out and put it on his cut.  He was out cold for about 30 seconds. Then he started thrashing a lot and hyperventilating, completely unresponsive to any communication.  We held him down because his neck might have been injured and he slowly came around.  The handlers called 911 and brought a medical bag.  We washed and dressed his cut, which had stopped bleeding and then the firefighters and the ambulance arrived and we rode back with him.  Poor guy.  I felt sort of responsible for talking him into it.  He’ll be fine, but I hope he doesn’t end up with PTSD and a fear of dogs. 

.....Addendum 2 days later- John is still nauseated and dizzy, but we are hoping he'll be fine.  Also hoping they don;t put that activity off limits to us because of his accident.  You can't squelch all the fun! I am a bit sore from using muscles I don't normally use. But I still have my part of it as a great memory. 

Leg vs. Concertina Wire

Today I had an unfortunate episode of leg vs. concertina wire.  Everyone knows I’m pretty accident prone.  I crash into things, trip, fall down, and get bruises that I have no idea where they came from.  When I was pregnant, I would forget I had a belly and crash it into door jams as I turned to walk out.  My kids might be a little messed up because of that, I think.  If it is possible to get hurt doing something, I’ll figure out a way.  But usually nothing serious- just cuts and bruises.  I get it from my dad.  He's always been the same way, only worse, my whole life.  He could not make it through a home improvement project without drawing blood.  Pretty sure that’s still the case.  But I did get half of my genes from my mom, so when I concentrate, I can be OK.  I just forget to be careful a lot.

 I cut myself with a knife early on in this deployment- it was clipped to my pocket and popped open (it’s a switch blade) without me knowing.  I reached down and bam!  It bit me.  A couple of weeks ago, I cut myself with a serrated bread knife while opening a bag of bread mix.  As I was cutting I was thinking I was not using the best technique (as in I was holding the bag with my left hand and cutting towards my palm with the giant knife in my right hand) and there might be a bit of risk and then mid-thought- bam!  I got cut again.  The serration marks were actually pretty cool.   The scab just fell off a few days ago.

Then this morning, I was riding my bike for the last time on this deployment and I saw an old beat up airplane that looked like it had crashed and I wanted a picture of it.  So, on my next loop around, I stopped and got my camera.  As I neared the place I thought the plane would be, I was looking left and BAM!  I felt something sharp hit my leg on the front just above the ankle.  I knew instantaneously what it was because the concertina wire is all over the place next to the road and I had ridden next to it countless times.  Then I saw the plane and pulled over.  As I was laughing at my stupidity and wondering how bad it was and looking down to check out the damage, it was actually sort of bad- about an inch long, quarter of an inch deep and about half an inch wide.  By now it was hurting and as I was laughing I was also saying some cuss words my kids probably think I don’t know and it looked big, but wasn’t bleeding. So I took my pictures and rode on.  I took a few more pictures as it started to bleed some.  Then I went back on the next circle around and got a picture of the wire that got me.  I tried to find some flesh on it, because that would be the best, but there wasn’t any.  Then I turned around and went back. I was going to do another loop, but I had a meeting at 0930 and this was 0800 and I figured it would take an hour in the ER for stitches.  it did, but I was able to get a quick shower (with my leg propped up on the wall to keep my new stitches dry!) and make it to the 2 1/2 hour meeting on time.

I got to the ER, took a good picture of my wound, and then let the tech numb me up and wash it out.  Then the doc put a couple of deep sutures in and the tech put the superficial ones in.  He wasn’t as good at it as I would expect him to be if the doc left him alone with me.   With his permission, I gave him a lot of pointers (as well as the other 2 techs who were watching him), then we practiced some more after he was finished my leg.  He learned pretty quickly and he’ll do a lot better next time.

All in all, it’s a good story and hopefully the scar won’t be too bad.  But it hurts a lot right now.  The whole front of my leg down to my ankle is killing me.  But even so….I still went and chased by the dogs…more on that in the next story!

Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning?

Sitting here listening to the Alan Jackson song "Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)"    .  It's making me cry.  If that had not happened, we would not be here right now.  Thousands of American men and women and even more Afghans would not be dead and injured.  We have 6 children on their way in right now who got hit by a mortar.  We have a young man right now who is fighting for his life after being shot through the forehead.  His wife doesn't even know yet.  They are still putting a team together to notify her.  Heart breaking.  


Where was I when the world stopped turning?  I was in London with my family and parents.  We heard the news from a scraggly looking guy in the subway and we thought he was messing with us.  The headline on the newspaper said "America Going to War!"  Bush had not even spoken yet, but the world knew that we would not stand for an attack on our homeland.  I went into a bathroom stall and cried quietly.  I knew we were going to war and I knew it would be quick.  I just assumed I was going (and I did 9 months later).  But that's not why I cried. It was because of the senselessness and the magnitude of the loss.  I instantly knew that this was my generation's Pearl Harbor.  When we invaded and people were saying how quickly it would be over, I was saying we would be here at least 5 years.  Little did I know it would be no less than 8.  I have no idea when this will end and how we will know that we have "won" or that we are finished.  This country is not Japan or Germany.  These people have been fighting for a thousand years and are insanely patient. They are loyal to no one who is not family.  They will do whatever it takes to protect their family and if that means letting the Taliban protect them and set up courts because the central government can't or won't, that is what they will do.  The enemy will wait us out for as long as it takes.


I am glad to have come, but I'll be glad to be going home.  I can see there are areas and ways we have made a difference, but I don't think it will matter in the long run.  When we pull out, the enemy will say they drove us out.  If we stay, they will say we are an occupying force...history has shown that when there is an occupying force in Afghanistan, the factions band together to get them out.  That's what we are starting to see here- some cooperation between some of the bad guys (there are at least 3 groups).  They will do whatever it takes to get us out.


So that's where I was when the world stopped turning.  And this is where I am now.  I hope I am where I think I will be next week.