... my Cousin, Big Daddy C, was recounting today, a tale of glorious Fatherhood... he told me... over lunch... how his second son puked freshly consumed ravioli out of his SUV's window in the Walmart parking lot yesterday... and as usual, that got my old mind working....
... I too, have puked ravioli... I now have a bond with my toddler 2nd Cousin... and, it is truly a beautiful feeling...
... once upon a time, Nike ran a commercial of some long-distance runner... standing.. bent at the hips... at the finish line... a trail of snot, puke, and vileness trailing from his scrawny lips... all the way to the ground.... Just Do It, baby... Nike had the right attitude... run till you puke, then run some more... I have done that... as a matter of fact, it was 3 days before being de-mobbed from the Corps... my final physical fitness test...
... I had worked the midwatch... got off work around 0715... arrived back at my barracks... popped a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli... and ate it cold from the can as I walked out for my run.... hell, I was starving, and I'd been up all night... anyway, we formed up... the roll was called... I did my sit-ups... did my pull-ups... then began stretching for the 3 mile run... all was well at this point....
... after 2.5 miles of churning up that ravioli, I was beginning to feel the effects of my strange breakfast.... about then, my mates ran up beside me.. urging me to sprint to the finish.. they wanted us all to hit the finish line together.. after all, this was my last time... but, 1/2 a mile... well, to a young Jarhead who had just eaten a half-pint of cold ravioli, a 1/2 mile seemed a bridge too far... but, I couldn't let them down.... and, it started.... we picked up speed... faster... faster... as fast as we could go...
... now, I feel that I must give you some background... our running course started in front of our Company HQ... it also ended there... a big loop of asphalt, and we arrived where we started... 3 miles.... across the street from the HQ... well, as fate would have it... the base chowhall sat.... oh, and I have to tell you this too.. our PT gear consisted of a white tee-shirt with USMC emblazoned in big red letters.. and green nylon running shorts.. white socks, and running shoes..
... anyway, back to the story... about 50 yards from the finish line, my gut could handle no more... so, while in full sprint... just as I passed in front of the chowhall, I turned my head to the right... and projectile vomited half chewed ravioli over my right shoulder... charming picture, right?.... but, I have to add, we never let up... we never broke stride..... we kept going... and that, children, is what it is ALL about...
... at the finish line, there was much rejoicing.. Marines all, celebrated in my demonstration of Will... looking back now, it was my last run... and, I'll always remember it...
... sitting here writing this, I can remember three distinct things about that little episode.. for one... I remember how proud I felt... knowing that I had done what was asked of me from my comrades... regardless of the consequences... or, how much my body ached... I finished the race along side of my Brothers...
... number two, I remember three Seabees sympathy-vomiting their breakfasts as they left the chowhall across the street... evidently, the sight of me spewing bright, crimson-red chunks, AND failing to let up on my run... well, it was a bit too much for the little darlings.... and, lastly... I remember how hard it really, really is to get congealed ravioli vomit out of your favorite white cotton tee-shirt.... oh, and I still have that shirt, by the way....
... our memories, people... they keep us real...
Gatorade has a commercial too Eric. Their slogan is "Is it In you?". In your case, I guess it WAS, but then it was ON you. Nice story. Didn't piss me off half as much a Vman's latest did. Thanks E, I really needed this day brightener. ;)
Really.
I mean it.
Ah, memories. The annual two-mile run at USCGA. Right after a spaghetti lunch. Finished the run in a decent time, but spewed all over Billard Hall afterward. I still get a little twitchy around red sauce.
Bullshitted by Velociman on November 1, 2004 09:09 PMYou got grit, man. Semper fi! However, in my day, we did that shit in fatigues and combat boots -- no running shoes. It was a real treat.
However, in my teens, I once barfed a recently eaten (and hardly chewed) shitload of raisin bread. A big-assed piece got stuck in my mouth on the way out. I'll spare you the rest.
Bullshitted by Jim - PRS on November 1, 2004 10:53 PMBro, you're killing me! My sides hurt right now from laughing! I never did the chow evac, but a couple of friends did. Our platoon was also known for drinking a tad bit too much, so we were always at the end of the formation on company runs. CO said we stunk like a brewery. (Of course, that was something to be proud of!) After a really rough night, we went out for a run. One of our Cpls wasn't feeling the best. All of the sudden he takes off ahead of the company and bolts into the bushes. By the time our platoon got to that spot, he comes jogging out ... sans socks. Field expedient toilet paper.
Daddy?
Seriously, it freaks me that I sat down with a bowl of digiorno yummy ravioli....for the first time in over a year...and I click on your link...
Voila! Puking Ravioli.
Bullshitted by Sadie on November 2, 2004 10:05 AMHell, I just HAVE to ask...
Can you post a picture of the shirt? :-)
Bullshitted by Harvey on November 2, 2004 01:24 PM2 years ago, I got shamefully drunk at a sex toy party, and my husband had to come pick me up. On the way home, I had to hurl, and in my effort to try and hold it down as the window was retracting, I lost. Everything. Booze, snacks, water. You name it. Everything. Right there, halfway out the car window. While the majority of it managed to drip down the outside of the car (pardon my graphic nature), a lot of it ended up inside the window shaft. Bet the dealership loved that when we went to trade the car in. Scott cleaned up as much as he could get to, but I know there was more. LOL.
The moral of the story, boys and girls, is to never, EVER, get inside any vehicle that may move at high speeds when you've had that much tequila....
Bullshitted by Asherah on November 2, 2004 01:53 PMBrian (my husband and a faithful reader of your blog) related this story to me in an effort to keep me from raiding the Halloween candy. It worked...
Bullshitted by Snowdancer on November 5, 2004 10:54 PM