As per Wikipedia:
A paradox is a seemingly true statement or group of statements that lead to a contradiction or a situation which seems to defy logic or intuition. The term is also used for an apparent contradiction that actually expresses a non-dual truth such as two true sentences which put together seem incompatible as both being true (cf. Catuskoti)...Literary and other artistic uses of paradoxes imply no contradiction and may be used to describe situations that are ironic.[1] Sometimes the term paradox is used for situations that are merely surprising.
I love my work. It is fascinating, to me, on multiple levels. It seems that with each successive platoon, training day and exercise repetition, I discover something new about myself, other people and this crazy world we live in. Something that I find particularly interesting, is the fact that there are a number of paradoxes around the character I step into and the living, breathing and constantly-evolving entity termed the Dr. Drill Instructor Program..."DDIP."
There are several counter-intuitives which become apparent as a participant evolves within DDIP. Intertwined in the workings of the course are certain "isms", which at first appear one way, but with additional time and exposure to the course, another reality becomes apparent. Through hard work and repetition, all of the paradoxes discussed below give way to incredible benefit. But much like the study of any worthwhile discpiline, be it the martial arts, philosophy or the fine arts, only with training and time will one be able to master and fully appreciate all that can be gleaned. This is not the path of least resistance, it's the "Road Less Traveled" as described by F. Scott Peck; not the easy way, but the right way. DDIP is my path and I would like to share with you some of it's finer nuances. Things are not always what they seem, but if you risk a closer look, you will come to understand it as I do. It's a metaphor for life itself, a method to not only survive, but thrive in an often chaotic world.
Duality of the Mire
In DDIP, we train almost exclusively outdoors and under the elements. We physically exert ourselves in the high grass and across varied and unknown terrain. "If it ain't rainin, we ain't trainin" is a phrase I learned in the Marine Corps, as the same was always true. As a young devildog, I traveled the world, thankfully in peacetime, dragging my body across the ground, wading through swamps and clamoring up hillsides, en route to the objective. Bugs were of little concern. Mud and grime were the norm. We were always wet, courtesy of Mother Nature "pissing on us" or more usually, due to our own sweat. We often wore the same uniform and gear for days, and on some instances, longer than that. After a week-long field op, we would drive on trucks back to the rear or transit via our amtracks back to the ship, whereby we would perhaps shower a bit and head immediately out in town to "play harder." We would invade all-you-can-eat joints like Golden Corral by the squad and sit with our faces half cami-painted up, happy to have some hot chow, in lieu of unpalatable MRE's. We were happy...comparatively, at least. For all the dirt, the monkey butt, swamp ass, bug bites, rashes, blisters - for all that was unclean, we appreciated more every opportunity to be clean and enjoy life outside of a patrol through the bush. I recall one particular occasion, where we were in Spain, training in some vast cow pasture. At night we were hit with torrential rains like you would not believe. We cowered under every piece of rain-impervious material until the morning came, at which time we ascended, stood in a circle and smoked or dipped, talked much shit. Even non-smokers smoked and God-fearer's slung profanity with the best of us, an attempt to find solace in the opposite of the situation we were in; to find comfort.
As Dr. Drill, I routinely drag my DDIP'ers through the muck. This very evening, we trained in foot-high grass and a bit of mud. This always throws the newbies for a loop, as they are pushed so far out of their comfort zones. But I feel the dirt is such an essential element that the program would not be the same conducted within four walls. The "dirty" paradox is the irony that training in the muck is one of the things all new recruits find uncomfortable and even abhor, but halfway through the session they come to embrace it. Umbrellas are then a thing of the past. And later when the storm rages outside, you appreciate the luxury of clean, dry clothes, knowing that if it were a training day, you most certainly would be out in that torrent. You don't wish to go out there but remain unscared of it and therefore it can't steal your thunder. Knowing that you could withstand the elements leaves the DDIP'er with a degree of power that people without perspective lack.
One last note on training in the muck: it brings people together. You can learn a lot about someone when you endure such disgustingness. Once upon a time in the North Carolina wilderness, my fellow Marine, "Pudge," and I sat a swampy road junction on a LP/OP (listening post, observation post), sitting in a puddle, back to back, wearing our rucksacks, weapons in hand. Mosquitos swarmed us, as we tried to cover ourselves with ponchos, but it was no use. I still get the chills recalling the annoying buzz of the skeeters as they found their way into the poncho and fed on us. There is a certain respect that is exchanged under such harsh conditions...the kind you won't find in a controlled environment.
Sound off Paradox - "Rock-n-Roll Ain't Noise Pollution"
One hundred people "sounding off" four-count exercises at six in the morning tends to piss the locals off. I have caught much shit due to DDIP noise pollution over the years, that I almost expect it, particularly as the spring arrives and we train outdoors almost exclusively. While I prefer to be a good neighbor, who is considerate of others in my community, the show must go on. DDIP requires no music, using miltary SOP we make it. As we repetitively exclaim, "I count the cadence and you count the repetition." And when the group assembles its collective voice, or "combat shout" there is a unification. Teamwork being the name of the game, when you combine rigorous training with a powerful sound off, you establish an identity within the organization; become part of something. Conversely, those with a half-assed effort or weak sound off sadly never accomplish the same.
Also disturbing the peace is the "boot camp" norm of the authoritative instructor. (S)he may appear loud, imposing, aggressive, even mildly abusive at times, as commands are barked and an atmosphere of discipline is fostered. At a glance, this demonic presence seems harsh, and it scares more than a few away, but with greater scrutiny it becomes apparent that this is more a facilitative character than a true bad guy. Dealers of tough love, the DDIP Instructor plays a major role in breaking people of nasty habits and removing physical and mental obstacles perceived. As I frequently make mention, "it's not what you say but how you say it, not what you do but how you do it." The sound off is your chance to punctuate the end of your sentence. We don't use periods or question marks in DDIP, but the exclamation point, exclusively. I have seen this attitude transition the meek and mild into the confident and assertive. One of my favorite stories on this subject involves a woman in her fifties who trained DDIP for several years. A beautiful woman, she had become weary of men aggressively hitting on her when out on the town. One day, she was enjoying happy hour with a few girlfiends in a local restaurant, and as a particular creep gawked at her, she reflexively exclaimed, "what are you, fucking retarted?" Though the choice of words was unfortunate, those are the facts, and as she recounted the incident to me, she glowed with a measure of pride, acknowledging the stand she was able to take. The sound off has positioned more people to be assertive, first responders than any other aspect of DDIP, for action follows thought; by training loud and proud, you will approach your goals with confidence.
The Paradox of PT Pain
Let's face it, rigorous physical training can be painful. As new recruits file into the office for their DDIP screenings, I am repeatedly asked a rendition of, "are you gonna kill me?" or "how hard is it gonna be?" And to a veritable cross-section of the population, I respond, "you wouldn't want to do it if it were easy, would you?" I also explain that the course is very rigorous but can be conducted at one's own pace.
Sometimes, I fib a little, proclaiming that DDIP is not a no-pain, no-gain activity. While this statement does not represent a blatant lie, once the individual gets their feet wet, they are faced with the glaring reality that the hard physical training they engage in is the source of much discomfort. My precise sentiments are, "for the first two weeks of class, you're gonna feel like hell." It takes all of this time period for most and even longer for the stragglers to begin to appreciate the "training effect," the period where exercise adaptation takes place. Once the training effect has been achieved, the recruit is in far less danger of over-training and they may throttle up safely.
There can be no doubt that disciplined training is the key to success in all things athletic, and the pain that comes with "discipline" seldom feels good, at least not before it gleans a result. Whatever the sport or physical challenge, mastery can only be attained through repetition of the basics. Military physical training methods are the epitome of this philosophy. A passage in the book I'm currently reading (The Heart and the Fist, E. Greitens) describes the platoon calisthenic methods employed in SEAL training as, "Spiritual training by physical means, it tests teamwork as much as endurance." My first exposure to disciplined group PT dates back to the late 80's, when as a spindly eighth grader, I first joined the wrestling team. We trained hard in a smelly room lined with mats, performing basic exercises such as the push up and jumping jack. We ran, wrestled off and functioned as a unit. I recognized then, how an arduous workout en mass, could deliver results and satisfaction to both the individual as well as the group. It brought us together. Pushing through the pain of the workout was a badge of honor, as was the struggle of cutting weight and the beginnings of Cauliflower Ear. As we negotiated these rights-of-passage together, we became a band of brothers.
One must learn to distinguish between good and bad pain. Bad pain is a sure sign of injury or over-training, and hence, must be avoided at all costs. But good pain is valuable stuff, comrades, the keys to the castle. This is the Paradox of PT Pain.
