Spearhead Transmission Podcast Introduction http://www.foxnews.com/health/2017/08… How many once in a lifetime eclipses can you have in a lifetime? Chilrens Dreams Around the World Hot Zone http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/t… http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/a… http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/m… http://www.foxnews.com/opinion/2017/0… http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/h… DickTarian http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/c…
I recently wrote a blog about my first run and gun biathlon experience. I figured I would write about my latest run, to document my evolution in the sport and how to temporarily cure run and gun fever. If you did not read the first blog post, you can check it out here.
Seven years ago, I was bit by a run and gun bug, since then I have attended all but two of the Pawnee Run & Gun races. Pawnee is one of the premier endurance competitive shooting events that exist. It is a semi-annual affair, one in the summer and another in the winter. It is orchestrated by a fantastic group of dudes, directed by Al and Dan at OKRUNNGUN.com. People from all around the nation come to Pawnee two times a year to test their mettle. There are an assortment of distances people can choose. One can make a short charming trip of the 5K (likely 7-8K) with five shooting stages. If someone really feels like they want to enjoy them self, they can try the pleasant 10K (12-14K) with seven shooting stages. For people that are on tilt, they can try Full Retard Mode 20K (24-28K) with fourteen shooting stages. Pawnee offers some of the most delightful summer weather and an enchanting climate for winter runs. The terrain is very well manicured and resembles some of the nicest golf courses around the nation.
This summer I chose to run the Full Retard Challenge. I am a fairly fit person who tries to train year round and eat as clean as a secret fat kid can possibly eat. I have removed running from my training regimen this last year, as I was experiencing pain in my joints and feet. That is my excuse at least, but the real reason I have stopped is that my brother Nick doesn’t train with me anymore so I’m not being pushed to run. I do grind at lunch with weights for an hour 5-6 times a week and a weighted treadmill climb for an hour in the evening 3-4 times a week. Anyway, Nick and I do a podcast called the Spearhead Transmission Podcast and when Pawnee starts to roll around we talk about our preparation for the event, how nervous we are, and we discuss other competitor’s workouts. This year the favorite to win the Full Retard was a chap named Shane. Shane is a pretty rad dude, he’s cool you know. He has won multiple events in years past. Well Nick and I were hearing about some of the demonic workouts Shane was conducting. We heard he was wrapping himself in cellophane and was running through hayfields with parachutes on his back and tires strapped to his feet. We caught wind he was just devastating ultra-marathons on the weekends to get warmed up for Full Retard Mode. We also heard he was rolling out bed grabbing his rifle and getting first round hits on 10-inch targets he placed on his pond dam at 500 yds. I am competitive and this knowledge had made me very anxious. You see I secretly want to win every event I enter. I have not won one yet. I want to win. Even though I haven’t been running, I have been pushing myself cardiovascular wise with the weighted treadmill walk. I set the treadmill to an incline of 15, which is the steepest setting, I set the speed at 4 mph and I walk like this for one hour, while wearing a 40lb weight vest and as much sweat gear as possible. This isn’t easy but it is nothing like Shane pulling trucks through swamps with his teeth or even like Nick running 2.5 miles a day in the fair Oklahoma summertime weather. I was nervous. Pawnee was creeping closer and closer.
In preparation for the event our clan, which consist of a stand-up comedian, an art teacher, a former king of Westeros, a model for HAM radio weekly, and myself, get together to confirm zeros on our rifles and get in some last minute confidence shooting. This is a standard occurrence for our tribe. We were invited to shoot out near Pawnee by Cody, a fine young gentleman who helps with the Pawnee event. We settled in, I shot for a good hour, with my rifle only to figure out I could not hit a damn thing with it. I was very concerned and nearly frantic. How could I compete with the likes of Shane the Favorite, Al the Titan, and most importantly Nick? I couldn’t and I was panic stricken. Cody had told me that he would take the whole thing apart and check it out for me. I trusted him, as he is some kind of master mechanic machinist trail cutting rifle smith with an honest face or something like that, so I didn’t think he could make it any worse and sure enough, he fixed it. I was back baby, and Pawnee was still a week away.
I said I am very competitive. Well this runs deep and I look for every competitive advantage I can get. That’s right I’m that guy. I am looking to buy any matter of supplement or new technology. The original Jerry Miculek magnified shooting glasses that allow you to keep a flat face to the target and make 1000 yard hits with a .380 pistol held upside down. A headband made from chinchilla hair and microscopic emerald technology soaked in patchouli oil that will tune my kundalini to my sharpshooter chakras and permit my merkaba to vibrate on a whole other frequency, essentially allowing me to see in the future just slightly. This will help to peel seconds off my shoot time. How about super Nano-tech rubber band socks that will create a new bounce to my step and shave minutes off my run time. There is always the copper lined underwear that will harness the earth’s energy and transfer it to my subconscious spirit animal granting me the focus to endure the harsh elements of the environment. Well this biathlon is a week away it is time to go shopping for the latest gadgets or supplements that will elevate me to the next level. First item on the shopping list was instant ice packs, this was a brilliant idea that I had stolen from Nick. You see even though Oklahoma in July is very mild and temperate, one has a tendency to overheat a bit while running, so just to be on the safe side I logged into my amazon account and ordered a case of those ice packs. Next on the list was a larger Camelbak bladder, I had already owned the 50oz bladder, I wanted to supersize it and go for the 100oz. I love my water and knew it would be imperative in this extensive race. I had a couple final items to pick up. I went to a local store in Tulsa as I was seeking advice as well. I stepped into Fleet Feet Sports and immediately spotted the expert I was seeking. He was a middle aged dude that had a runner’s build, a scraggly beard, a fresh cut Mohawk and smelled of weed. I knew this was the fella that would grant me the wisdom that would propel me to level of greatness that I have yet to achieve. I had a given him a little bit of background into what I was doing but still staying vague enough as to not alarm him. It seems that when you talk about run and gun to the everyday person you receive the typical “what are you some kind of militiaman?” They look at you like you are wearing a tinfoil hat carrying a Big Berkey water filter, screaming about your super male vitality and how reptilians from the planet Nibiru secretly rule the Earth. Even though this dude was probably a kindred spirit and we could have talked for hours about Xenu and his ancient 747, I was here for one thing and that was cramp prevention. I told him I don’t want to get cramps and that I’m running like 30 miles through woods the next weekend. He didn’t even bat an eye. He recommended some special body-hugging pants that keep all of your muscles tight and would grant you cramp fighting powers, as well as guarantee that desired shapely look all of us men are seeking. I was tempted, very tempted and don’t think they won’t be part of my winter run and gun apparel, but not today because they were black and extremely expensive. He had told me that what I really needed were electrolytes and lots of them. I was sold so I bought a large bag of Skratch and about twelve GU packets. He had directed me to simply fill my Camelbak with the electrolyte mix and run as fast I can. This was the perfect plan. All of my shopping was complete at this point and I didn’t really buy any outlandish shit. I must be coming to senses in my advancing age or I am just losing my edge.
It was the day before the race, all week I had been preparing by drinking loads of water, eating tons of sweet potatoes and pounding electrolyte mix. I told my old lady that there was no room for funny business until this race was over, as Mick from Rocky said it would make my legs weak. She didn’t like this as she can’t keep her hands off of me and is always chasing me around the house, most days I just give in, but not this week, I had to stand firm.
I arrived at Pawnee an hour late per my usual arrival time. Al the Titan had scheduled me to serve as a range officer on stage 1. Nick was getting prepared to run so I wished him good luck but didn’t mean it. I made my way to stage one with all of my food and drinks. I was prepared to settle in for a long day of working my stage. My job was simple I would greet the runner ensure their rifle was clear and inform them to start their wait time if needed. You might be wondering why I am not running on the same day as Al, Shane the Favorite and Nick. Well this season of the Full Retard Challenge required a bolt action rifle for the second half of the race. Nick and I were sharing this rifle, which was loaned to us by our art teacher friend Kalon. Like I said my job was easy, I simply had to collect all the cheat codes from the early runners and formulate my plan for the following day. I was stationed with some pretty easy going dudes Matt, Jeff and Emmitt. They pretty much let me slack off all day and fed me Skoal Bandits to help keep me regular. I was tempted to step up to the Copenhagen but I feared that may push me over the edge and I may not recover by start time the next morning. The day pushed on, and all my good friends had come through once and some were set to come through a second time. You see in the 20K race, the course is ran twice and generally on the second lap the runners look like hammered horse shit. All three, Nick, Al, and Shane had come through my stage and looked strong, but had said it is very hot and they just wanted to finish without heat stroking. I was getting scared, very scared. Coming from these three guys meant you bet your ass this was a brutal run. I started to second guess myself, maybe I needed to stop on the way home tonight and pickup those form fitting tights as well that emerald dipped head band. Well the last runner had come through and we all made our way back to HQ or the start/finish line whatever you want to call it.
Once I pulled up I wanted to check on my friends. Immediately I spotted Nick, he was being momma catted by Kalon. They were all sitting under an awning near Shane’s bad ass jeep. I figured it was the typical after action, “I should have done this or that” shooting the shit session. Nick was sitting there and Kalon looked concerned. Nick looked like a meteor had recently hit him and he was saying about as much as Chief Bromden from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I was concerned he might be in a real bad way. Kalon was doing the right thing by keeping an eye on him. All Nick would say was “It was bad man, it was real bad. Be careful. Be really careful.” I looked at Shane and asked how he felt. The run was so brutal it had physically changed Shane’s voice. He managed to give the best advice I could have heard that weekend. He said, “If you think you start out too slow. Slow down.” I was now more than scared; I was terrified of what was to come the next day. I had to reconfigure my whole thought process. I was now thinking I didn’t want to win I just wanted to finish the race and get my shirt. I was worried about Nick but he slipped away to possibly go pass out at the med station. I waited around about an hour to ensure he would live. Once I saw him packed with ice packs fans and kids fetching him Gatorades I knew he would live, so I started to make my way home around 6pm that Friday.
When I got back to the house, I started a massive shift in my plan. I repealed and replaced Mickey’s plan of no funny business, I wasn’t going out like that weak legs be damned. I also decided to run two Camelbak bladders. One with 50oz of water and the other with 50oz of electrolyte mix. I was little bit concerned about the added weight but after seeing those two dudes barely alive I knew it was imperative that I got the extra fluids. I view the human body like a machine and every action that takes place in the body involves water. I’m no doctor but I think water is a good thing in the heat. It was time to gather everything together. I wanted run down my checklist prior to bed time.
I run a simple Spikes Tactical mish mash AR-15 with a Burris 1-4 power optic and a V-tac Sling. I find this combination effective and the sling is very comfortable and no more tapping out to my sling from a chokehold. My pistol was a gift from my good friends for my birthday a few years ago. It is a Glock 17 with night sights and a trigger job. I carry it in a Safariland holster. I use one 40 round and two 30 round magazines for my rifle. I carry three normal Glock mags and one 33 round magazine for my pistol. I carry all of this along with my Camelbak bladders in a customized load bearing vest that I have had modified from a lifelong friend, Garrett. This is the most comfortable piece of equipment I own. I also rounded up all of my fancy racing clothes. Nick calls it my paper boy costume. I wear super nano tech rubber band socks, Salomon speed cross shoes, a Duluth Trading shirt and hat, as well as some ultra-thin stretchy pants. I was ready and it was time to get some much need rest.
It was race day!!! The first thing I needed after a shower was to get a decent breakfast in me. Breakfast on race day was no different than any other day. One cup of egg whites, one banana, three tablespoons of hemp hearts, two tablespoons of nutritional yeast, half cup of blueberries, three cups of spinach, and a splash of coconut water, blend this up and it looks like the Incredible Hulk threw up in my cup. I needed some coffee after this and I would be ready to go. I loaded up my gear and all of my food, kissed my wonderful wife and daughter and sped off to Pawnee. The day had started and I just wanted to survive. Upon arriving at the Pawnee ranch (start/finish line) stylishly late, my nerves take over and cause my mind to operate in a frantic state all the while trying to play it cool. I check in at the scoring table to get my race card. I receive two 10K cards, things just real, so real I needed to visit the locker room for pregame ritual if you get my drift. Lighter and little calmer I gather my running tackle, rifle and all. I scarf down about three cups of sweet potatoes and leave another 3 cups for my halftime break. It’s time to go all I have to do is head to the starting line, hand my card in and tell them I’m ready to roll out. I can’t bring myself to do it as I am concerned I don’t have everything ready so I must do a rundown of my gear one more time. After I do a last minute check I head to the starting line and tell them I’m ready to go.
Runner ready, set, go, I’m off!!! I start at a healthy pace but I know I am in it for the long haul. The earliest part of this battle is the probably the trickiest, I take off down the driveway only to run into the first and most dangerous obstacle I will face which is a cattle guard. This thing must be made for the world’s largest hoofed bovine species, possibly prehistoric cows or some mutant breed. I have to make a conscious effort to watch my every step or my race might be over before it even starts. Once objective pitfall is complete, now I’m on route 666, aka the Devil’s dirt road and Shane’s advice is keeps running through my head, “If you think have started to slow, slow down.” This road is probably the toughest part of the whole race. Mentally, it will wear someone out, not so much on the first pass but the second for sure. I start out down the dirt road full of piss, vinegar, adrenaline, and sweet potatoes. My whole aim at this point in the race is to keep a steady pace not to walk and pass as many people as I can before I hit that two-mile mark. I see someone in the distance almost immediately as I crest the first little hill. My new goal is to pass this contestant. I gradually push myself but not enough to take me out of the race. Be cool man I tell myself, be patient, and don’t run too hard. Nick and Shane almost died yesterday; I don’t want to be Nick and Shane. I pass the competitor, one down, but I have no idea how many are left. A moment of clarity strikes me and I realize that I had started the race an hour earlier than my fellow Retards had started the day before. This was good news to me, I could push myself a little harder and know that I should have it made in the shade if I can get back before it gets too damn hot. I pick up the pace a tiny bit more with the same objective in mind –don’t stop running until I get to the two-mile mark. I remember I need to take some salt tablets every hour so I mark the time and swallow two Endurolytes. The road drags on and there aren’t many people on it to pass, so to preserve my sanity, I think about keeping my chakras in tune with my ancient vegetable stalk. I ponder primeval Sumerian religious technologies and how Enki will reveal his self to the world as the great architect of man. I also contemplate the idea that I can evolve my current state of DNA from 44 autosomes and 2 sex chromosomes to 46 autosomes and 2 sex chromosomes. I also think what about Gigantopithecus. Could he be Bigfoot? Well that did it, I made it, and it’s good to have my mind, now I can slow down and carefully make my way through the woods. I approach an obstacle, it’s time to low crawl, now climb over the barrels, back to low crawl and the whole time I thinking this is going to be a bitch the second time around, but I’m onto bonus stage one. The stages are very blurred in my head as it seems like the memory part of my brain shuts off and I rely on instinctual shooting. Once I leave bonus stage one, I crack my first instant icepack and pop it under my hat. Sweet relief this, little slice of heaven cools me down and helps to lower my heart rate. Guess what, I have three more of these beauties. There is small portion of the run to the next stage where it feels like I enter a sauna, the grass is so tall and the sun must be boiling the dew like a steam engine. I’m soaked with sweat. I’m way back in the woods now making my way to the stage that I had helped with on the prior day. Nick and my homies from yesterday are there. I definitely want to show off here. I enter John Wick mode and blast through the stage at least that is what I tell myself. After high fives and some grab ass, run, run, run, are the words that are going through my head as I leave my friends behind. I don’t have any real memory of stage 2 all I know is it was pistol stage and Shane was in charge. He told me great job and that my times look real good, one of the fastest of the day. This sends me into overdrive, I’m now on a mission to win this whole thing, screw just wanting to survive. I eat some of my GU which I had been eating every half hour and I feel like I’m flying to the 500 yard shot. First thing first though, I have a river crossing as well as a cargo net climb. I approach the creek and sure enough I see a familiar face, its Brendan, a fellow Retard. This is someone I can run with, to keep me motivated. Most people will recognize him because he wears a sarong and flip flops. This dude is a beast and my assignment is to stay with him and possibly pass him. I jump into the creek and oh, the water feels so good it stones me to my soul I enjoy it for a brief second but not as long as I wanted because Brendan was already climbing out and up the cargo net. Damnit why couldn’t he just appreciate that oasis a little longer? I pull myself out of the creek and up the cargo net. Stay with him, stay with him I tell myself. I don’t say much but I do stay right behind Brendan and follow him all the way to the 500 yard stage. I’m not looking forward to this stage as it is a one shot one hit or fail, but I also know not many people are going to pass this stage. Brendan stands up, one shot and bam hits the target then speeds off, my jaw hits the ground and I’m up next. Boom, DQ, move on I tell myself so I head out, its time to catch up to Brendan. I step out onto the road and see him just up ahead, I run to catch him. I want a pace partner for the Devils dirt road. I hang with Brendan the beast all the way across route 666 to stage four. The rest of the first half of the race is not memorable except for when I am rounding the hill on my way back to the halfway point/finish line and I see a hot momma in knee high socks coming down the hill. It’s my friend Greg’s wife, Anita; I still need to act strong. I tell myself to not look stupid and act like you aren’t fazed by this little race. I ask her “are you running 5K?” she says “yeah,” I say “I will run with you a bit to the finish line I’m doing the 20K.” She says “ok sounds good.” I’m running at a good pace staying with her and as soon as we get to the last barrel obstacle I think I’m just going to leap right over them. I jump onto that first barrel only to freeze up like fainting goat and collapse backwards. Embarrassed, I tell Anita that she can carry on without me as I may need to stretch. Meanwhile my calves and hamstrings are screaming at me to stop acting so cool. I eventually make my way back to start the second leg of this race. I was making pit stop and trading my rifle in for the bolt action loaner from Kalon.
I am frantically eating my sweet potatoes while the former King of Westeros (Arn), The Art Teacher (Kalon) and Conor (the King’s son) are serving as my pit crew. They helped me fill my water and gave me some moral support. It was nice to have cheering section when I got back. Thanks guys. I had noticed Brendan had made it right behind me. I had running buddy to cross route 666 one more time. I saw him hustling to make his changes and get on the road. I wait for him as it is good motivation to have someone you can lean on a bit. Mentally it would bother me if I would have left without him and he caught up to me. We blaze across that dirt road all the way to 5k starting point. We stop for a rest right before the low crawl obstacle and Brendan does something that will burn a whole in my memory forever. Mind you, we have just run about 10 or 11 miles with 5 or 6 yet to go and this dude lights up a cigarette. I thought I was being tough, but this bloke in rubber slippers and a silk skirt just made Charlie Bronson look pathetic. Well done Brendan. I take a leak, which was a wonderful surprise, this means I am hydrated. I need to make up as much time as I can on the number one runner, Matt. I leave Brendan with a new found respect and head out. I keep hearing Matt is just ahead of me so I know I can catch him. It was so hot at this point I only wanted to make it to wooded oasis and play in the water. I push through the woods and the grassland sauna. I arrive at the creek and know it was time to cool down. I take off my rifle and dip every bit of my body in cool muddy water and soak for a solid three minutes. This was amazing. I was refreshed and ready to catch Matt. I was drenched, had four icepacks, some pickle juice and an unrelenting energy that I couldn’t explain. I guess knowing that I had shot most stages really well up this point and thought there might be a chance to win could have been the reason for the unexplained energy. I wasn’t sure but I was feeling great. I just need to shoot strong on the back nine of this event. Boom, I DQ the 500 yard stage, no biggie, I need to get running on the road to oblivion is all tell myself after that disappointment. I hear Matt is just up ahead. I’m running jogging walking crawling and finally dragging myself up the longest hill in America, I see a group of people sitting in the shade at the top of the hill. Could it be Matt resting? Yes, it was and now I got him. I get to the top of the hill and I ask him if was going to run with me. Sure enough I have another running partner, this time he was the number one runner today so I know if I pass him I will have the fastest time for the day. All I need is to do good on the next three stages and I will have won this whole thing. Matt and I trot down the hill together exchanging pleasantries and I try keep up good conversation to make him doubt his own endurance. I want him to think, “How this guy is even talking?” Its all mind games. We make our way to the next stage, I go first and it’s time for me to put the nail in the coffin. I need to perform perfectly with this bolt action rifle; this is the first stage with any volume of long distance shots. Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom I DQ this stage I can’t hit shit with this loaner rifle and I’m broken hearted, this couldn’t have went any worse in front of Matt, now I just look like blabbering no shooting idiot. My only chance now is to run as fast as I can to separate myself physically from the rest of the shooters today. I sprint off to the next stage. On my way I see an opportunity to cool off to the right. A giant pond, I notice there are no tracks to the edge of the water and think of how clever I am to get one last bit of relief so I can finish strong. I make my way to the water’s edge to step in and bam I sink to my kneecaps in the mud, my shoes are stuck. I frantically thrash around for a good thirty seconds hoping no one sees the panic on my face. I pull myself out and trudge off, shoes full of mud. I end up DQing the next stage as well, but I fly through the last stage, I’m an old school infantryman so you give me a low crawl shoot and I will likely dominate it, even at my age. It is time to push myself to the end of this race, all I have is the fainting goat barrel obstacle and then the finish line is right around the corner. I run and I run hard to the end.
The race is over and I turn in my card. It is all up to the gods at this point. I did my best. I feel like I should have pushed myself harder as I still have some gas in the tank, that’s normal for me. My body hurts my feet are beat up but I feel good about my chances. Shane’s advice served me well. Al the Titan asks me if I am ready to do another 5K, I consider it and tell him I think I could do it. I’m bluffing but you can’t show fear around Titans. I enjoy recapping my race with all of my clan and fellow competitors. We all share our stories and how we should have done this and that differently. We blame our mishaps on parts of our gear and we wished we had trained harder or shot more in lead up to this event. It’s all good. It’s solid bonding, it is a great group of people, no outward egomaniacs or jackasses that just want to blow hard about themselves. These folks are REAL.
Are you wondering how I did? I took second. I didn’t win. Matt took first place. Cheers man!
Guest Jenny Moonstone http://www.moonstonemusings.com/ Spearhead Transmission Podcast Introduction Chilrens Dreams Around the World Hot Zone http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/y… http://www.foxbusiness.com/markets/20… http://www.foxnews.com/us/2017/08/14/… http://www.foxnews.com/us/2017/08/14/… Liberal friends that were against guns, and for restrictions calling for an armed revolt to the Charlottesville protests. https://www.yahoo.com/news/charlottes… http://www.washingtonexaminer.com/can… http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry… DickTarian Ode to Women http://mashable.com/2017/07/25/vagina… http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry… http://www.independent.co.uk/life-sty… Abuse of Authority Tin foil Hat Chester Bennington Murdered by Dad John Podesta over Pizzagate. Possible connected to Chris Cornell. This Sucks!! Science Segment Kangaroos in Papa New Guinea
Guest Andy Arabitto Half Faced Blades https://www.halffaceblades.com/ Half Face Blades was founded by Andrew Arrabito, Navy SEAL (ret.), to meet the need for high-quality, “go to” knives and axes – usable, personalized, functional, versatile tools that work for every person in every walk of life. Andrew grew up hunting, camping and fishing in the great outdoors. After high school he joined the US Navy, determined to achieve the honor of serving in the United States Navy SEAL Teams. It was during his time in the Teams that Andrew decided to bring the “end user” back to the beginning, to learn blade-smithing. From the beginning, Andrew’s goal was to make simple blade designs for consumers who demand the finest products. With his real-world experience in using cutting devices in super-charged action, Andrew understands what will be demanded from his blades. And he makes them to meet those demands. Half Face Blades knives are designed with the distinction and ruggedness required for the work they are intended to do. Each knife is calculated to meet requirements gained by experience, by testing knives and axes, by using them over time at sea and in remote wildernesses. HFB knives bring the soul of rugged, dependable, combat knives and tools to a variety of settings – from special operations tools for warriors, hunters and backpackers, to knives for the kitchen and great American workers. “I wanted each person to have a usable tool, embodied with a warrior’s spirit, that will perform to their needs during their walk in life.” Spearhead Transmission Podcast Introduction Florida Chat Chilrens Dreams Scratch and Sniff Stickers Around the World https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/4186461… http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/… Hot Zone http://www.foxnews.com/politics/2017/… http://www.foxnews.com/lifestyle/2017… http://www.foxnews.com/entertainment/… http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/t… DickTarian Ode to Women http://www.foxnews.com/world/2017/08/… Abuse of Authority Tin foil Hat Chester Bennington Murdered by Dad John Podesta over Pizzagate. Possible connected to Chris Cornell. This Sucks!! Science Segment http://www.telegraph.co.uk/science/20…
Have you ever pushed yourself so hard that you can hear your heartbeat thumping away like a mid-90’s rave in your brain? Have you ever run so hard that your lips start to throb and your lungs feel like you have inhaled a bonfire? Have you ever exposed yourself to 100+ degree weather carrying 30 pounds of gear over a multitude of rough terrain and obstacles? Have you ever fired a rifle or pistol as fast safely possible while moving and engaging targets? Have you ever approached a shooting stage thinking you are going to clear this stage flawlessly and fail miserably? Have you come to stage with desire to just squeak by and end up dominating? Have you ever come to stage with absolute zero care and only wanting to finish the race? Have you ever finished the race and thought I could have pushed myself harder or I should have shot better? Have you ever finished a race and collapsed into shaking mess packed with ice and fans on you? If you identify with these then you likely have Run & Gun Fever.
It all started 7 years ago. My good friend Nick had told me he knew a guy that was putting together a run and gun event in Henryetta Oklahoma and asked me if I would like to participate. Me thinking about my natural ability to run fast for long distance and the fact I was a former infantryman I thought, sure thing and I will likely win, so I told Nick I would do it. I would have done it even if I didn’t think I would win.
The day had come, I put all my gear together and rode with Nick to Henryetta. Once we arrived Nick introduced me to Al. Al was the guy putting it all together and we were going to be running the course on his land. Al seemed like a good man from the minute I met him. The type of guy that you know you can count if you need him. Within the first hour of I realized he was a genuine stoic dude. He didn’t laugh at his own jokes, he had a good sense of humor but was direct and to the point. I started to feel myself needing to impress him or make him laugh, not sure what was happening to me but I didn’t like it. I started to realize I was screwing things up for no good reason as I was self-conscious of everything I was doing. Like my dad was watching me and I couldn’t get anything right. Basically I felt like a monkey humping a football. I had to shake this. Al wasn’t arrogant in any way it was the fact he exudes confidence that seems to vanquish any confidence you hold in your abilities. The goal for the day was to beat Al, as I had already thought I was going to beat Nick. I had to shake this.
The course was already set up, Nick and Al had come out the day prior to proof the route and construct four shooting stations. We didn’t have any range officers as it was really just us three that were going to run the race. The trail was just over two miles and one runner would start after the other finished. While one competitor was out the other two would follow behind on a 4-wheeler to reset the stations, but we would wait until the runner reached a predetermined check point. This was for safety purposes. I can’t remember the order that day but I do remember being excited to establish my dominance in this new found sport.
It’s about to be my turn, I’m fired up and I am getting my tackle together. My equipment consists of my rifle with a single point elastic sling for comfort and tactical powers, a borrowed Glock 17 with a Fobus holster, a small chest rig and a backpack for my 7 extra 30 round rifle magazines. It was late July or possibly early August so I thought I might need a drink while running so I brought a 12oz bottle of water. I was fired up and ready to go into battle with 300 rifle rounds 70 pistol rounds and a sip of water. I’m ready to show these guys how it’s done. Get ready, set, and Go!!!!! I was off; I started out like a rocket sprinting through the field. We were allowed to put a magazine in our rifle as soon as we start running there just couldn’t be a round in the chamber. I grab one of new fully loaded P-mags and slammed it in the mag well only to realize 30 seconds later it had fallen out. Turn around and run back pick up the magazine and realize I need to take one round out of the mag in order for it to stay in the mag well. Problem solved I can now continue with my goal to show these other runners I’m the Alpha. My pace is solid as I’m now about 300 yards from the start point and almost out of their line of sight so I can slow down. Boom I fall in a hole and land flat on my back and my high speed tactical combat bungee sling stretches out and bam the butt of the rifle slaps me right under the chin. After a mouthful of profanity I pick myself up and carry on. I’m going to win this thing.
I get to the first shooting station which was all rifle. I engage the four targets that were placed on a pond dam maybe 150 yards away. They were painted black squares on cardboard; set to the West it was about 3pm in the afternoon. My heartbeat was already pounding away in my head and I couldn’t settle myself down as my combat sling was designed perfectly to sit along my carotid artery and was cutting off the blood flow to my brain. I realize I can’t see shit. I can’t tell if I hit any of them so I fire a full magazine at them, why not I have more than a combat load. Surely I blasted them, first stage in the books and conquest is mine I can taste it. I’m a little thirsty so I drink about half of my vast 12 oz. bottle in route to the next stage.
Firing station two was all pistol, the joy of this stage was getting to it. The trail leads you through scenic thorns and briars which then open up to a pond. I pull my pistol and commence firing at the targets. I’m killing cardboard left and right no problem. Exit stage two and I am on to victory.
Perfect the trail leads through the woods so I can slow down and blame it on terrain. I am crawling like a turtle at this point, slow and steady wins the race. Once I break from the woods I can see where I’m headed and I don’t like the look of it. The top of a hill that seems to be about 200 feet straight up covered in four foot tall grass is where firing point three lies, this might as well be China. I’m pouring sweat, my sling is trying to choke me out and I just finished my vast supply of water. Drive on man Drive on!!! I charge forward like banana slug and head up this brush covered mountain. Clawing my way to the top I settle into my firing position and start plugging away at the cardboard demons that may as well have been in another universe. Blasting away I blow through another magazine and half. I figure I need to make sure they are good and got. It is time to pick myself up off of the ground and fight through the grass ocean I see in the distance. My eyes start to feel a little airy and I’m feeling parched. It might have been a good idea to bring a 16 oz. bottle of water. I think maybe I should run a little since I have the downhill before approach the great Serengeti. The running bit lasts for a solid thirty seconds. I’m tired I realize I am amazing runner on flat ground and I am a shit swimmer, swimming was what I was doing at this point. The grass was three feet tall. I recognize I’m running through a hay field that hasn’t been hayed. Who thought of this kind of torture? Al thought of this torture. I continue trotting along making my way to the next stage until I bump into a fence and see a farm house. Well I know I’m not supposed cross a fence so I follow it to north. I’m ready to drink a lake I’m dying of thirst. I follow this fence in hopes I catch the trail until I hear talking and TA-DA I’m at the finish line. I got lost! Obviously Nick and Al poked fun at me as I got lost and didn’t finish the race. I was ashamed of myself but I was ready to quit. I didnt even care to find out I hardly hit any of the targets. I didn’t want any more of that Henryetta hay field and my choking rifle. I was done.
I was hooked from that point forward I couldn’t wait to redeem myself. I realized that the Run & Gun sport wasn’t so much of a competition with others as it was a competition with your own mind and body. I do love to compete and take pride in pushing myself as hard as I can. I do always challenge myself to beat Nick and Al every race, but most importantly to push myself to my limit. Thanks Al and Nick for getting me hooked.
If you are interested in taking part in an event like this head to Oklahoma Run & Gun site and signup. They offer a variety of torture from 5k , 10K and even 20K courses two times a year, one in the summer and one in the winter. It is a solid group of dudes that put these on and real genuine community that take part.
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On this latest episode of Spearhead Transmission, Nick’s niacin flush kicks in half way through the show. We are joined by two very intelligent well spoken internet powerhouses that fight the new world order. First we welcome Rex Bear from the Leak Project. Mr. Bear is so full of energy and charisma. He is most definitely passionate about his work and breaking through main stream media fog that infects globe. Rex helps to rip open the military medical mass media industrial complex grip on the populations throat one finger at time. We are then joined by Mike Rivero of What Really Happened. Mike has been fighting the global elites for longer than Nick has been out of diapers. Mr. Rivero is a triple threat kind of guy. He is packed full of knowledge, a critical thinker and a gifted speaker. He has been under attack for many years. Mike breaks down the Wikileaks dump and what is to follow. Mike also makes the case for Donald being a true outsider and plans to drain the swamp. Mr. Rivero informs us of a possible Soviet style of crash. Listen in to get these guys take on whats happening in the world.
The rest of the episode is filled with our normal banter. We cover the critical matters such as what type of oil Emma Watson uses on her bush and how many flapjacks fat Babs can stuff in her suckhole at one time while singing Evergreen. Why we are terrified of ladders and how our Dads would slap the shit out of us if they met our current selves when they were our age. There is plenty more we talk about so listen in or watch us YouTube.
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On this hot new episode of the Spearhead Transmission Podcast. We unveil some new fan art, if you would like to leave some art or just pictures please leave a comment below or send it to us at firstname.lastname@example.org. We interview the Angry Jackalope Robert Ricks about his thoughts on the nations political environment as well as discuss his bread and butter, gear reviews. If you are unfamiliar with the Jackalope please check out his channel. It is extremely entertaining as well as informative. If you have a question about piece of gear it is likely he has reviewed it and by reviewing it I mean destroying it if it is possible. We discuss the miseries of traveling for business. Automated sinks toilets walkways stairs and the stress associated with each of them. We also talk about the imported Swedish Rape Gangs and how Sweden has become the rape capitol of the western world. Is the cartoon dictator of North Korea a true threat the United States? Listen in to find out. President Trump wants to crack down on weed, lookout guys you might be locked up sooner than you think. We also chat about other nonsense or possibly hot button issues.
Here is the set list from last night. Thank you for listening and sharing.
In this episode Nick tries to burn down my house. George Webb gives us the real scoop on how the global elite live until they are 400 years old. He also breakdowns the CIA subtle attacks on citizens that they consider a rebel. If you see multiple smoking men outside of your house you might be a dissident. Generally everytime we talk with George I want to put tinfoil on all of my windows and hide in the basement that I don’t have. We also discuss primitive bushcraft survival skills with Brandon from a local bushcraft blog. He makes us feel less than capable of surviving in the wilds as he touts his abilities to whip out hundreds of friction fires to the two that I so proudly worked 4 hours to make. He also discusses the lost art of whittling and how important it is to bushcraft survival. In all seriousness Brandon seemed very knowledgeable and passionate about the many classes he teaches as well as primitive survival. If you would like to contact him please click the link above and to start your journey of survival. Our normal antics start toward the end of the show as we were late getting started. Nick was very worried becoming known for being a red man on youtube.
I got this picture of Nick in a text today. It made me think of cultural appropriation.
What is cultural appropriation? Who is guilty? According to the link cultural appropriation is the unauthorized use of another cultures traditions, expressions, knowledge, & artifacts. Who is guilty? Well from the dawn of time either everyone is guilty or no one is guilty. This seems simple to me. Blending of culture is a beautiful thing. Why then does everyone get so bent out of shape? Is cultural appropriation set to further divide an already volatile populace? How do you get authorized to utilize other cultures traditions, expressions, knowledge, & artifacts? I might want to grow some crops in my backyard one day. I need to find someone from earliest Sumerian culture. If I magically find someone whose bloodline traces all the way back to ancient southern Mesopotamia and represents the Sumerians of old, how do I know he or she are the spokesperson for that culture and can grant me access to the use of agriculture? Am I being a sarcastic asshole in my analysis of cultural appropriation or is cultural appropriation just as absurd? Are the 1.6 billion Muslims culturally appropriating the 2.2 billion Christians? Are the 2.2 billion Christians culturally appropriating the 16 million Jews who would be culturally appropriating the ancient Sumerians? All of these religions stole from the one prior as well as many other less dominant dogmas from other cultures. Did Muhammad ask Jesus and Abraham if he could have some of that Christianity? Did Jesus ask Abraham and Moses if he could get a sample of Judaism? Did Abraham ask Enlil and Enki if he could get a taste of Church of the Anunnaki(my fictional church)? I was going to ask. Did Abraham ask Conan if he could borrow some of Crom’s Secret of the Steel but that is ancient Cimmerian not ancient Sumerian. None of these guys did anything of the sort and yet there billions of followers around the world culturally appropriating every second of the day. You savages should feel guilty. I could go on for days blowing up this silly catch phrase but I won’t cause it is senseless. I will say that if you are not harming anyone physically or impeding anyone’s ability to sustain their life you are free to appropriate. You alone are responsible for your actions. Please send all hate mail to email@example.com or comment below.