Lucky No. 7, or "Long Miles, Many Tears"

It's been three days now since the end of my Rock 'n' Roll Marathon weekend, and I'm still walking around on sore legs and blistered feet. There's much to tell, so here goes...

Friday afternoon, I headed down to the Expo to pick up my race packages. It felt a bit odd, honestly, being at such a big event by myself. It was yet another reminder that I need to make more of an effort to find local running buddies. But that's a post for another day. This is all about this past weekend.

After finally getting to sleep after midnight, I woke at 4am and headed out for my 5K. I found parking right at the start line and settled in for a quick nap before the race. Soon enough, I was at the start line ready to go. Weather conditions were overcast and cool and perfect for the run.

The run was nice, a little time in my own head as I enjoyed the scenery. But it got way better towards the end when I ran into a new friend that I had just met earlier at a screening of our documentary, From Fat To Finish. I ran into the finish line with her and her friend, and then we took the mandatory finish line photo sporting our new bling.

After that, it was a lazy day of napping, snacking, and counting down the hours until the full marathon.
_________________________

And then, it was Sunday morning. I parked in the same place as the day before, took the same nap, and was ready to go again. I got a text from a high school friend who was running the relay with her husband, so I hurried to the start line to get a picture together. It was great to see her (Hi, Brenda!) and I'm proud of her for running the relay.

While I was waiting for the start, I found myself standing behind this guy in the bathroom line. I have no idea what his story was or where his journey started, but these words written on his back were an inspiration for me and, I'm sure, so many others on the course later.

(If you have never run in a large event, make it happen. There are so many amazing people with inspiring stories and smart, clever, funny, powerful messages. It's incredible.)

I started in Corral 14, so it took me about 30 minutes to actually get started on the course. I wasn't sure how I was going to hold up over the 26.2 miles, so in the back of my mind I was already considering making a course-change to the half marathon. But that wasn't until mile 8.1, anyway, so I had time to decide.

The first few miles were fun. I saw this sign on the course by mile 1 and I tried to remember this as I ran. This marathon wasn't going to be a PR and it was going to be tough, so I knew I needed to find something all along the way to motivate me. Celebrating every moment kept my mind busy and my heart happy.

For me, running a full marathon in San Diego was a bit like an episode of "This Is Your Life." It started in Balboa Park, where so many of my training runs have been done. I ran by the old 6th and Penn Theater, were a play I wrote with a director friend was produced. I ran all through Hillcrest, past many local watering holes where I have enjoyed countless laughs and good times.

For those who don't know, Hillcrest is the "gayborhood" of San Diego. The folks here are truly amazing. And on race day, they did not disappoint. I even stopped to make sure I got a picture with my tribe.

Later, crossing the 5K mark, I started the run into my own neighborhood. I know every mile of these roads, since they are the same roads I run on all the time. I didn't even need to look at my GPS watch, as I knew the distances from corner to corner and street to street. It felt a bit odd running here with 30,000 running buddies out on the road with me. Fortunately, the North Park and Normal Heights communities were out in force, cheering and encouraging all of the runners along. My neighbors made sure that everyone felt welcome, and that made me even more proud to be one of them.

Past mile 5, though, I came across something that I wasn't expecting. It's known as the Blue Mile, and it's a section of the course dedicated to the memories of our fallen military men and women. Placed alongside the road are individual signs that each feature a photo along with the name, age, and date that the hero was lost to us. I first saw this memorial when I ran the Marine Corps Marathon in 2013, but I had no idea it was going to be part of the Rock 'n' Roll Marathon.

I made it a point to walk through this part of the course, choosing to slow down and see each and every one of these servicemen and women. I wanted to read their names, look at their faces, and truly see them. They deserved at least that. Afterwards, past the signs, there was a long line of American Flags, all held high and waved proudly by the Wear Blue: Run To Remember organization members.

By this point, tears were steady streaming down my face. I made no attempt to hide them, and I was hardly the only person on the course reacting the same way. It was a solemn moment for all of us, and I believe we all felt grateful to be part of such a beautiful tribute. It was truly an honor. Little did I know that the Blue Mile wasn't quite done with me, yet.

Me on Adams Ave, mile 6.5

After passing the relay exchange area, I made my way towards mile 7.71. It was my favorite spot on the whole course... my own home. My husband was there cheering on the other runners in front of our house, and seeing him really lifted my spirits. I dashed in to use the bathroom, change running shoes, and meet up with my friend, Tammy, who had agreed to pace me for several miles along the course.

Tammy wasn't running the event, and she made it a point to NOT take any of the water or other runner support along the course. She was there to keep me company and I was so glad to have her with me. She was such a highlight of the day. The next six miles went by so much faster with the company, and before I knew it we were crossing the halfway point up in Presidio Park.

On the way down the hill from the park, we struck up a conversation with another runner. Her name was Sheri, and we found out that she was running the marathon in honor her son, the late Corporal Adrien Vaughn Lenk, USMC. She had never run any event... ever... but she felt called to this marathon and just decided that she was going to do it.

Me, Sheri, and Tammy at Mile 15

The three of us continued to chat as we made our way through the next couple of miles, and then Tammy was done and left Sheri and I to finish the marathon. We paused for one last moment to capture a photo of all of us together.

(Thanks again, Tammy, for being my running buddy for those important miles. Being out there alone would have really, really sucked. You made it that much easier for me to actually finish this thing.)





As Sheri and I ran on, we had a lot of time to talk. I had noticed that her son's name was on the back of her shirt, and I let her know that I recognized that name from one of the signs on the Blue Mile. She knew I was telling the truth when I described the picture of him on the sign.

Cpl Adrien Lenk, USMC

Cpl Lenk's sign on the course

The conversations we had were private, but she has given me permission to share that her son was not killed in combat. He took his own life in January 2015. His war wounds weren't physical, they were emotional, and he was every bit a casualty of war as if he had died in combat. Sheri is currently working on developing a non-profit dedicated to helping save other military servicemen and women from the pain that took her son away from her.

The next miles were difficult, but running with Sheri was a constant reminder that others have endured far more than sore legs and blistered feet. She and I laughed (a lot), bitched (a little), and helped each other keep putting one foot in front of the other. By mile 22, the blisters had completely taken over my feet and each step was so painful. But I was too far in to stop, and we just kept going.

The long, slow trek up Highway 163 towards Hillcrest was the worst of the course, and we were both so happy to top that hill and finally get to the downhill stretch. We walked - ambled, more accurately - but we kept moving.

Soon enough, we were into downtown. As we turned north onto 5th Street for the very last two blocks of uphill, we were met by several members of Sheri's Wear Blue: Run To Remember family. After a brief chat as we walked, one of the ladies told me that they wanted to send me a Wear Blue shirt of my own, with Adrien's name on the back, in appreciation for my doing so much to help Sheri through her marathon. I'm not ashamed to admit that I was fighting back tears as I gratefully accepted that offer.

Funny thing, though. Sheri later referred to me as her Marathon Mentor. She really has no idea how much she helped me. Had I been alone, I would have likely quit any of the several times I felt beat down. But with her by my side, I knew that there was no way I would quit. If she could do 26.2 miles for her son, I could certainly stand by her and be her Marine in his absence.

At the finish line, I got a chance to meet her other son, Julian. I didn't know it at the time, but I had already run right by him earlier on the course. He was a flag bearer back on the course at the Blue Mile.

Adrien wasn't there with us physically as we ran those miles, but he was there in spirit. And I know that he would have been so proud of his mother and her determination to finish this marathon. She said that he was her inspiration, but really, she and the other Wear Blue family and friends were all inspirations to the rest of us.

Corporal Adrien Vaughn Lenk, U.S. Marine Corps

Dedicated to preventing soldier/veteran suicide, homelessness and providing information for successful transition from military to civilian life.

I finished my seventh marathon on Sunday, but I feel like I gained more than miles and medals. I was given the opportunity to honor a fellow Marine. I had the privilege of escorting her through thirteen miles of heat, sweat, and pain, all so she could stand up at the end and say, "This was for you, Adrien."

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Running continues to bring so much to my life. And just when I'm down and thinking that I've had enough, it allows me to cross paths with an amazing woman on a powerfully important mission.

Sheri, thank you. Thank you for the company. Thank you for the motivation. And mostly, thank you for sharing your son with me out on that course. And whatever I can do to assist you as you take the next steps to honor Adrien, know that I will be there.

Running makes things happen. Trust me, I know.

When You Thank Me And Call Me A Hero...

I served in the United States Marine Corps from 1985 until 1989. To quote Dickens, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. But all these years later, I am even more proud of my service and more honored to have worn the uniform.

For the last thirteen years, though, the Marines who stepped forward to serve have lived a very different experience than mine. They are combat veterans, warriors on the front lines. And as a nation, we are grateful to them and want them to know it.

But there's a problem with that. Two, actually.

First, no one who serves in the Marine Corps expects to be thanked. It's an honor and a privilege to wear the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor, and we don't do it to earn your gratitude. So on this day of all days, the 239th Birthday of the greatest fighting force this world has ever known, I offer a couple of suggestions to help show your appreciation for your Marines.

Instead of saying, "thank you for your service," say, "Thanks, Marines." Yes, even though I am standing in front of you as one person, I represent every Marine. And I understand that you are saying thanks through me to the entire United States Marine Corps. And I will say "you're welcome," shake your hand, and go about my way.

Or, you can say "Semper Fi, Marine," and I will know that you are showing respect for the very foundation of the Marine Corps, the promise to be Always Faithful.

And once a year, on November 10th, you can say the best thing ever. You can wish me a Happy Birthday. And on behalf of legends like Chesty Puller and John Basilone and on behalf of modern day warriors like Kyle Carpenter and Jason Dunham, I will say thank you.

But don't thank me for serving. Wearing the title is thanks enough.

Second - and this is the bigger point I want to make - civilians often toss around the word "hero," using it to describe everyone from the teenager who stopped to help change your flat tire to the NFL quarterback who managed a long pass to win a game. And we all understand how you are using the term. But it really isn't all that heroic to play football, you know?

It's the same when you call every serviceman and woman "hero." You mean well, but we actually feel like it takes away from those of us who have truly served heroically. Yes, every single Marine who has worn the uniform and served honorably was in a position to be a hero. They might have been called to sacrifice themselves to protect and defend someone else. And Marines being Marines, they would most likely have answered that call.

But they didn't. I didn't. I was never in a situation where I had to be willing to lay down my life to protect another.

I wasn't a hero. And that's okay. Because being a hero means more than just being willing to make the ultimate sacrifice, it means actually being in that moment and seeing it through.

I can tell that I'm rambling now, and it's because I'm passionate about this message and I am trying to say so much all at once. Today is an emotional day for many reasons, and I'm struggling to put my thoughts into coherent words.

So, here's a simple recap:

1. Don't thank me for my service. Just offer a nod and a smile and I'll happily return it. Or thank the Corps and I'll accept that on their behalf.
2. Don't call me a hero. Save that honor for those who are truly the best of us. They deserve it.

Happy Birthday, Marines. And Godspeed and farewell to those of us gone too soon. We will stand together again some day.

P.S. If you forget, or otherwise don't know better, and you thank me for my service, I'll still say you're welcome. Because I understand what you are trying to say and I appreciate that. So please don't read this blog entry as me justifying being an asshole to someone else who says "thanks" or "you guys are all heroes." There's no call for that, either.

Happy Birthday, Marine Corps. You are timeless and true.

#usmc239

Honoring Our Nation's Military

This weekend, this nation will observe Memorial Day. At some point throughout the weekend, some well-meaning friend will take the opportunity to thank me for my service as a United States Marine. While I appreciate their words, I feel compelled to clarify for them the distinction that Memorial Day holds.

As a nation, we have three distinct holidays that involve the military:

• Memorial Day
• Veteran's Day
• Armed Forces Day

Memorial Day
Memorial Day is the day we honor those who have died while serving in the military.

Memorial Day is observed on the last Monday of May (today).  It commemorates all men and women, who have died in military service for the United States. Many people visit cemeteries and memorials on Memorial Day and it is traditionally seen as the start of the summer season.

Veterans Day
Veterans Day is the day we honor those who previously served in the military.

In the USA, Veterans Day annually falls on November 11. This day is the anniversary of the signing of the armistice, which ended the World War I hostilities between the Allied nations and Germany in 1918. Veterans (former members of the armed forces) are thanked for their services to the United States on Veterans Day.

Armed Forces Day
Armed Forces Day is the day we celebrate and thank those who are currently serving in the military.

This holiday is celebrated third Saturday of May. It is a day to pay tribute to men and women who serve in the United States’ armed forces. Armed Forces Day is also part of Armed Forces Week, which begins on the second Saturday of May.

Please know that thanking someone for their military service is a kindness that is appreciated year-round and should not be limited to any one day. But on this weekend specifically, when we honor those who made the ultimate sacrifice in defense of this nation, it's important that we know what we are doing and why.

Every F'ing Step.

Yep, it's a bit crude. Certainly not my normal language here. But sometimes, a lesson demands the exact truth.

Saturday morning, I woke up in a cranky mood. I had to get out and get my recovery day mile in, and I just didn't want to do it. Of course, I'm over 80 days into my Summer of Run Challenge, so I knew I was going to do it. I just didn't have to like it.

 Before heading out the door, I stopped to check Facebook. I saw that a friend had posted a message about a Marine funeral taking place just a few miles from my house. The family had made a request for volunteers to stand "guard" at the funeral, since the Westboro Baptist Church idiots had threatened to protest the funeral.

I saw the message just after 9:30am, so I had already missed my chance to go. But learning of this Marine's passing hit me hard. I shared this on my Facebook wall before I started running:

As I head out for my morning run, I'll be thinking of USMC Sgt Stephen E. "Zeb" Clemons, 2/4 Marines (Magnificent Bastards), Golf Co., being laid to rest just miles away from where I am. Stephen passed away at the age of 28 at Naval Medical Center, San Diego, due to complications of cancer. He is survived by his wife, Mother and Father. Stephen was an only child.

This morning, I won't complain or bitch about the heat, or the road, or the distance. I will rejoice with each step that I am alive and able to run. Today, I will not take my good health and able body for granted.

Reading about Sgt Clemons changed my perspective. Instead of just running my one mile recovery run, I decided to run the Marine Corps Physical Fitness Test distance of three miles. During the start of the last mile, as it was getting warmer and I was feeling out of breath, I reminded myself of my earlier promise. And I started saying, out loud, "Every. F*cking, Step. Every. F*cking. Step."

And in those moments, I ran a little faster and cried more than a few tears for a Marine I have never even met in person. But he was there pushing me and that made the difference today.

As I said, I realize the language is harsh. But those words are exactly what popped into my head as I was running. I choose to believe that a certain Marine Sergeant was running along with me to "gently encourage me" lest I think for a second about slowing down or stopping.

I have a body capable of doing great things. I pray for the mental strength to never forget that, to always remember that I have a responsibility to run for those who no longer can.

Semper Fi, Sgt Clemons. Godspeed, Devil Dawg.

 _________________

 And more about this Marine from a dear friend of his, Mariso...

 "That Boy loved his Country , defending it was his Pride & Joy. He was a deployed a few times, Iraq ( 2 times) and a MEU in 2009, and his last deployment to Afghanistan in Aug 2011, which sadly he couldn't complete, He had to come home in Oct because a Doctor diagnosed him with cancer. Steve or "Zeb" as he was referred to was a vibrant and joyful guy, like I said he loved his Country, his Country Music, his GUNS! and Dodge Trucks. Steve always had a big smile on his face, one of his favorite words to say was Awesome!

Nobody would believe how many times he volunteered to go to Afghanistan, even while on being on his last MEU he would talk about how he wanted to go and be in combat. He talked about it constantly. He loved it. He loved Scary movies, and loved Will Ferrell, Talladega Nights was one of his favorite movies, the redneck in him of course. He loved Mnt dew and Bud Light was his beer of choice. He was full of life , nothing would bring him down, nothing was ever too hard, no situation was ever too bad. 

He would take off the shirt on his back and would give it to anyone who might need it, because that was the way he was raised. He said Yes Ma'am and Yes Sir, he was a southern gentlemen, he opened doors, pulled chairs out, ect. His smile was contagious, he believed in being honest, no matter if it made people mad.

One of his favorite songs was Chicken Fried, by a country group called Zac Brown, " Salute the ones who die the ones who give their lives so we don't have to sacrifice all the things we love, like our chicken fried, cold beer on a Friday night a pair of jeans that fit just right and the radio on " was his favorite verse . Lets not get started on his love for Walmart.. he loved it , He proudly would wear his cut off shirts and his infamous RealTree cap with a Fish hook on it (that was his trade mark)."

Stephen was from Radcliff, Ky but was actually born in Germany on a military base, as his Dad was active duty at the time.

National Running Day

What a difference a couple of years can make. Two years ago, I had no idea there was such a thing as National Running Day, let alone a reason to celebrate it. Running was what people did if they were late for a plane.

But look at me now. I've run two full marathons, eleven half marathons, several adventure runs, relay races, and more miles on the streets of San Diego than I can count.

More important than the miles is the change in the my confidence. Running a whole mile intimidated me before. Now, I can lace up my shoes and run six miles without any prep or training.

I'm also finding ways to work running into everything I do. At last year's Marine Corps Reunion, I talked a couple of buddies into running a mud run with me. Later today I'm off to Vegas for a this year's Reunion, and I will be running a half marathon with a couple other Marines on Saturday morning. And if I can pull it off, at next year's reunion, I'm going to fall in with a unit of active duty Marines and join then for a formation run.

I am a runner. I never thought I would say that. But two years, countless miles, and a wall full of finishers' medals later, I finally believe it.

And today, to celebrate National Running Day, I ran 6.6 miles in 60 minutes, at 6:06am on 6/6. Fun, right?

So, what's your running story?

Anatomy of a Slump, Part II.

Or, How I Battled Back From The Brink Of Disaster And Lived To Blog About It.

Yesterday, I blogged about my post-marathon slump. It's not really something to brag about ("Ooh, look at me and my epic failure!"), but I feel it's important to share my struggles as openly and honestly as I share my successes.

Slumps. Funks. Binges. Spirals. There are many names for it, but the basics are the same. A poor decision or two leads to more, and the bad choices fuel a descent into madness. Life becomes a series of anti-healthy moments, with skipped workouts and poor eating leading the way. And as bad as that sounds, it's only the beginning.

There are two very important things to understand about slumps. First, the longer you are in a slump, the more difficult it is to find your way out. They are self-perpetuating.

I feel bad about not working out. And since I feel bad about myself, I don't have any motivation to work out. Instead, I'll sit home and over-eat. And now that I over-ate, I feel bad about myself, so I'm not motivated to work out.

Second, the true power (and danger) of a slump is how it separates you from the tools you need to end it. The things that normally help you feel better - a healthy meal, a good workout, interactions with your support system - are no longer a part of your day. When you most need to rely on your tools, you don't have them.

In this respect, struggling through a slump is like being in a relationship with an abusing control freak. For those who haven't been in that situation, I'll explain the similarities. Control freaks attack a person's support system ("She isn't a real friend to you, you should stop hanging out with her."), isolating them from the very group of people who would help them break free. It's like taking your keys away and then berating you for being locked out of your house.

Think about that for a moment. The very things that could help you - motivation, inspiration, encouragement - are the things that seem lost.

So what do you do? How do you break out of a slump? It's easy. And it's difficult. It's easy because it just takes a single action, just one, to break the cycle. It's difficult because we've stopped believing we have the power to do it.

My lowest moment was Tuesday, May 29th. I had skipped my scheduled half marathon the day before (#EpicFail), and I let that be just the first of many reasons I beat myself up.

• I paid to register and didn't run. Way to waste money I don't have.
• Oh, look, here's the bib I would have worn. It's trash now, isn't it?
• I wanted to run 12 half marathons in 2012, and now I have to find another one. Why, because I skipped this one like an idiot.
• What's this? Oh, it's an email from the race asking about my experience. Thanks for the reminder that my only experience was to sit on my butt and not run.
• Look, more emails from friends asking about my half marathon. Yep, get to tell them I'm a loser, too.

It all seems hopeless, right? And yet, I'm writing this blog about breaking out of a slump, so you know that something amazing happens to change it, right?

Yes and no. Something happened, but it wasn't all that amazing. It wasn't dramatic or major or much of a big deal at all. But it was something.

As I sat there wallowing in my gloom, one thing stood out. I had a plan to run a dozen half marathons this year and now I had missed one of them. If I still wanted to accomplish my goal, I needed to find a replacement event. So I started looking. Turns out, there was a half marathon scheduled in Las Vegas for the very same weekend I was going to be there for my Marine Corps Reunion. What are the odds?

I posted a link for the run on our Marine page, and immediately another Marine buddy said he wanted to run it, too. He registered us both right away. (And since then, a second buddy has signed up, so three of us are going to run it together. Flight of Fire Half Marathon, here we come!)

See what happened there? I focused on one specific goal, my desire to run a dozen half marathons this year. That provided a course of action: find another race.

"So I started looking."

Me, after running the 10k at the gym.

That action connected me back to my support group, the very same Marines who first motivated and inspired me to change my life two years ago this month. Breaking the cycle by seeking out a new run helped me engage my support system, too.

Once I was signed up for the run, other pieces fell into place. The next evening, I packed up my gym bag and workout gear and set it out so I would be ready to run the following morning. And I did. It was a 5K at the gym, but they were the first miles I had run since the marathon. And they felt great. I actually ran 3.28 miles in 30 minutes, so I was at a 9:08 pace.

The next day, I was shaky. I was feeling good about the day before but wasn't quite feeling like I was "back in the groove." I skipped the morning workout and felt crappy about it all day. Finally, late in the day, I decided to stick to what had made me feel better. I went back to the gym for another run. And this time, I ran a 10K in 54 minutes at an 8:45 pace. I was crazy fast!

Since then, my eating is back under control, I have continued to run and workout, and I am blogging and checking back in with my Spark Buddies and my Facebook Fitness friends. I did get on the scale last week and I am just under 189, so my ten days of gluttony and sloth added 4 pounds. But so what? I can drop those in no time.

More importantly, I feel like I am once again in control of my actions. I am NOT the mistakes I made. I am the culmination of two years of hard work, and that means I am powerful enough to battle back through any slump or down cycle.

A shirtless picture? You bet. I earned it.

If there is one take-away here, it's that life is not an all or nothing situation. It is a series of small choices that, added together, define who we are. That means that breaking out of a slump can be as easy as ONE good decision.

• Drinking eight glasses of water today will make you feel better.
• Feeling better will inspire you to make a better food choice.
• Better food choices will fuel you to take a 15 minute walk.
• Walking will motivate you to get on your bike or go for a run.

A slump doesn't happen overnight. It is one bad choice after another after another. That means that turning it around is just one good choice away.

I made my choice. Will you?

On This Memorial Day Weekend...

A timely reminder.

On Monday, Memorial Day, I will be participating in the City of Laguna Hills Half Marathon. It's not only a chance for me to run a beautiful 13.1 mile course, it's also a fundraiser for Dark Horse 3/5.

The City of Laguna Hills adopted the 3rd Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment, of the 1st Marine Division. This infantry battalion, nicknamed "DARKHORSE" is based out of Camp Pendleton. Marine Corps participation in the half marathon will increase from 15 Marines running last year to 45 running this year.  Laguna Hills City Council voted this year to name the race in honor of the city's adopted  USMC Battalion 3/5, Dark Horse Marines.  Additionally,  members from a new team of Marine wives called "Stroller Warriors Camp Pendleton" will be participating with their children in the other events. A $3.00 portion of each registration fee will be donated to the support group known as Team Dark Horse, a 501 ( c ) (3) organization. Visit their booth at the FINISH LINE EXPO to purchase 3/5 T-shirts, hats, water bottles, and other memorabilia. Donations are gladly being accepted to help the Committee fund the 3/5 Welcome Home Ball in June. Visit the 3/5 Official Website HERE!

I have friends and family that have served with Dark Horse, and I am proud to take part in any event that acknowledges their commitment, service and sacrifice.

While you are enjoying this Memorial Day weekend with friends and family, please take a moment to remember those who have given so much for this nation.

Action 288 - Honor The Past.

Earlier today, I posted a link on Facebook to my fundraising page for the Semper Fi Fund. And already, several of my friends have been kind enough to donate. But I still have a long way to go if I am going to raise $1,775 before May 20th.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I got a phone call from a friend that I just met for the first time last year. He said that he saw my post about raising money and wanted to make a donation. He explained that his Father was in the Marine Corps in 1960, served honorably, and still considered himself a proud Marine when he passed away this past December. I'll share more about this Marine later, but the phone call did get me thinking about Marines that have come before me.

Action 288 - Honor The Past. There are many ways to do that. The best way, of course, is to remember the Marines who served this nation and this Corps over the last 200+ years. There are untold stories of bravery and honor, courage and sacrifice. For every brave tale told, there are so many others known only to those who were involved in the moments of battle. For every hero honored, there are so many more whose service is woefully absent from the pages of history.

Whether heralded or unsung, the heroes of the Marine Corps have set a standard that is, unbelievably, met and even exceeded by each new generation of warriors. The past has laid a foundation that each new cycle of Marines builds upon. And each of us, a single link in a great chain, has played our own part in ensuring that the Brotherhood of Marines continues its legacy of greatness.

Honor the past? It's a debt we owe and should pay willingly.