Hullo Mudda. Hullo Fadda...

Sorry for the slack posting everybody. But its not gonna get any better. I will never be able to access the internet during the week and whether or not I can do so on the weekend will depend on how much catch-up I have to do.

The Border Patrol Academy is reputed to be the toughest (intellectually and physically) law enforcement training academy in the nation. I have not been to any other training academy so I feel unqualified to categorically confirm that assertion. I will say that this is the hardest thing that I have ever done, and it doesn’t show signs of getting any easier any time soon.

Training is tough. I have two weeks down. 18 to go. That’s one tenth completed. I have survived “hell week.” This is not to be equated to the “hell week” that most military branches supply for their enlisted men. The major difference being that after we are dismissed for the day, Our time is our own and we need not worry about being awakened by Lee Ermy in the wee hours of the night, for random PT punishments.

PT is really hard. I prepared myself in some ways and in some ways I am way behind the curve. I have a wonderful wife who taught me to run and to not let up when It hurts. I manage to stay up on the runs with the group that is in formation with the instructor. There are about 10 of us out of 25 who do so. This makes me feel good at the end of PT.

I felt very confident going into the academy that I would not have a lot of trouble with the pushups and other mat-room exercises. My pushups are up to 35 when done along with basics sit-ups. I gravely underestimated the mat room. Our first days of PT have instructed me that my failure to more aggressively work my abs was a grave oversight. After breaking down my abs to the failure point and beyond, we did our first push-ups. I found myself looking down at the pool of my sweat beneath me in disbelief as I croaked the word “nine.” This was soon accompanied by uncontrollable shaking and the sickening wet slap of my knees involuntarily crashing to the wet mat.

Shameful…Truly shameful. At least that is what the PT instructor who took up semi-permanent residence in my inner ear for the next 5 minutes informed me. He did however use a greater preponderance of “colorful metaphors” in his critique of my performance.

Of our class of 50, 2 of our classmates could not handle so much color in their metaphors, and have resigned. The first day Group A(my group) lost another trainee to kidney failure and loss of consciousness on the run. Group B lost 4 to the “Med Shed” on day one, in addition to the one who quit. On day two of PT they lost a total of 8 to the “Med Shed,” and the hospital. So we are currently 47 of 50 and may be down to 41 this week if the hospital keeps it’s current hostages.

The last class graduated only 26 of it’s original 50. We hope to not lose any more, but we have not even begun to lose them to academics yet. Spanish will not be difficult for me, but we will lose some to it I am sure. Law will take some getting used to, but I am confident I will do well.

I love all you who read this. Have a good week folks. I will try to touch cyber-base again next week.