THE BURPEE BETRAYAL

At Ease, Devil Dog

There are moments in the Marine Corps when you realize you have made a terrible decision. Not the kind where you volunteer for a working party without knowing what it is. Not the kind where you say, "I can probably do that"

I mean the kind where you answer a simple question honestly.

Today, PT was ass.

There was no elegant way to put it. We were halfway through a workout, doing burpees like our lives depended on it, which, at that point, they kind of did. Everyone was tired. Legs shaking. Lungs negotiating terms. Sweat doing things sweat should probably never do.

Then the Sgt asked the question... "Who's tired?"

Silence.

Nobody raised a hand.

Apparently, we had all collectively decided that exhaustion was a civilian emotion.

The Sgt asked again... "Who's tired?"

This time, a few hands went up. Mine included.

Because I was tired. Not I needed a little water and a motivational quote tired. I was if someone tells me to do one more burpee, I might star communicating exclusively through facial expressions tired. So I raised my hand.

What I didn't know was that this was apparently the first step in a very elaborate trap. The Marines who admitted they were tired got called to the front. And then we were told to count burpees for everyone else. Including the NCOs who had very confidently decided they were not tired.

At first, I thought, Okay. Fine. We count. No big deal.

Then one of the CPLs yelled something that completely changed the mood.

"Now I know who I can't trust in combat." And then came the part that stayed with me.

"Giving Up on all your peers."

I laughed it off at first. Because what else are you supposed to do when you're standing in front of everyone, holding the official position of Marine who admitted his legs hurt?

But later, I started thinking about it.

Did I really give up on my peers? Was I selfish? Did I actually let the platoon down?

Because the truth is, I never thought of myself that way.

Im the kind of Marine who wants to have my people's backs. If someone is struggling, I want to help. If someone needs something, I want to be there. I don't want to be the guy who watches his buddy fall behind and thinks, Well, good luck with that.

But today, for a few minutes, I was that guy. And that bothered me.

Not because I was tired. Being tired is normal. We're human. Even Marines, despite what the recruiting posts would have us believe, occasionally require oxygen.

What bothered me was realizing how easy it can be to mentally quit before the mission is actually over.

Because PT is PT. But someday it wont be burpees. It might be a long movement. A field exercise. A deployment. A bad night. A Marine next to you who is having a worse day than you are.

And that's where the lesson actually matters.

When did Marines start giving up during PT? and When did being tired become a reason to stop?

It shouldn't.

You don't have to pretend you're invincible. You don't have to lie when you're struggling. But there is a difference between saying, "I'm tired," and deciding, "I'm done."

Today reminded me that I need to get better at knowing that difference. Because if you want people to follow you, you have to set the example. You can't tell your Marines to keep going while you're looking for the nearest exit.

You can't ask for toughness from everyone else if you're unwilling to find a little more of it in yourself. And maybe that's what bothered me most about today.

I wasn't embarrassed because I raised my hand. I was embarrassed because I realized there might still be a part of me that looks for the finish line before the work is finished.

That's something I don't want to carry with me. Because when you're tired, you start thinking you've reached your limit. But sometimes your limit is just the place where your brain starts filing complaints.

And the funny thing about limits is that they move. You think you're done, and then you do one more.

Then one more.

Then somehow you're still standing.

And if you think you're having the worst day imaginable, there's always a chance it can get worse, which is honestly one of the most motivating and deeply unhelpful things the Marine Corps has ever taught me.

So no, today wasn't my finest PT. I raised my hand. I got put in front. I counted burpees. And for a few minutes, I felt like I had betrayed everyone behind me.

Maybe I did. Or maybe I simply learned something before the stakes were higher.

Next time I'm tired, I hope I remember that feeling. Not because I want to pretend I never get tired. But because I want to be the Marine who keeps going. The Marine that sets the example. The Marine who doesn't leave his people behind just because his legs are burning.

Because if you're going to ask someone to keep pushing, you better be willing to push with them.

And as I stood there counting everyone else's burps, watching Marines who claimed they weren't tired somehow continue suffering with considerably more dignity than I was displaying.

I couldn't help but wonder...

When did we start giving up on each other? and more importantly, when did we start giving up on ourselves?

by PFC Llorenti, Rocco