Unite or Die

I'd bet it's the same everywhere. Force a bunch of alpha, type-A, passionate gorillas to live in a box together and things won't be easy. We disagree on a lot. We have strong opinions on the most minute details. If you've ever nearly come to blows over who owns a 99 cent bottle of mustard, you might be a firefighter.

When things pertain to the job it really gets interesting. Should the primary attack line be a 1-1/2", 1-3/4", or 2-1/2"? Should it be pre-connected or connected on scene to the length we need? Flat load or minute man or modified minute man or triple layer? We argue over the type of chainsaw blades, the paint scheme of apparatus, the brand of ladder, the configuration of EVERYTHING. Aesop's golden goose wouldn't have survived 10 minutes in most fire stations then we would have blasted the chief and city hall for providing defective fowl. When things don't go our way (I know you won't believe this) we might, possibly, on rare occasion, overreact. 

When we gather our toys and go to our room, everyone loses. The young guys need old dudes for wisdom and to learn from their experience. They have seen more fire, endured more hardship, and found out a bunch of crap that doesn't work. Old dudes need new guys for creativity and energy. Their isn't a better path to mastery than by teaching. The senior guy who has used his time wisely will always welcome a new recruit to mentor. When we work together, when we use our combined strengths and build on our weaknesses, the people who count on us for protection win.

I appreciate conflict that ends in resolve. "Iron sharpens iron." From the moment there were two men on this planet there was fighting. Despite some politically correct voices of our society, there isn't anything wrong with being a man. Men have carved out a living within the most unforgiving environments on earth. We've settled lands, conquered nature, explored remote wilderness, fought wars, and shed blood and sweat for what we believe in. 

We are made in the image of God and "the LORD is a warrior; the LORD is His name." What war are you fighting in the fire service? More importantly WHY are you fighting? The heart of my ethos is to continually improve in order to better save lives and protect property. If that's not your "why" I'd love to know what your about. Sometimes I can be an idiot though. I get way too caught up in the nuts and bolts of things that really don't matter. Dumb and petty things. I'm working hard to change that. I want the big picture to stay the big picture. I don't want some improper sense of ego to stunt my growth. I intend to be an old man in a young man's game and the best possible version of myself until my last shift. 

I won't be the guy that gives up. My wife lives here. My family lives here. People I love and care about count on the service that I'm part of. I believe in what we do and that we do make a difference. We aren't FDNY. I know that. I also know every time someone has called 911 here they expected Superman to show up. We have a mutual enemy and it's time we turned our attention from each other and on to the mission. People are counting on you. They deserve better. They deserve your best.

Go do something.

Go do something. Seriously. Doing anything is almost always better than doing nothing.

Everyone starts somewhere. I started in the smallest little town you've never heard of. It was 1999 and I was a college student working as an associate minister for my hometown church. I began asking around about becoming a volunteer firefighter and finally tracked down "meeting night". I remember it was bitterly cold outside but they had fired up an old propane wall heater and I was SWEATING. It was a typical small town fire department meeting. Upcoming events, new equipment, grants, etc. They showed me the station, the trucks, and talked about what I'd need to do to join. The next year I took another ministry job in a somewhat larger town. Again, I began asking around and pretty soon I was neck deep and had fully contracted the "sickness" that infects so many newcomers to the fire service.

A lot of life happened between 1999 and 2006 when I became a career firefighter. I found a home though. The way I feel about the men and women I work with is indescribable. I live where I work intentionally. My wife was good enough to move into the city with me because of how strongly I believed in it. I love my city, my department, and have never dreaded a single shift on the engine. Without a doubt we have our issues. Probably more than a lot of places. I choose to be positive. I choose to believe enough in what we do to work through any issues that may try to derail our mission. Make no mistake about it, when we overly focus on a fire chief, equipment, or city hall it's the citizens we've sworn to protect who suffer the most. We need all those things to maximize the service we provide but it's easy to trip on a molehill and miss the mountain. Big boy up, strap on your boots, and go to work.

Everyone is different and valuable in their own way. If nothing else, they serve as an example of who not to become. What does success look like though? A lot of it is ownership. People, circumstances, and assignments can help you succeed but ultimately nobody else is at fault if you fail. Own yourself. Take no excuses and make none. Bang ladders, study, PT in your PPE, devour every book, attend every class, look for the diamond in every pile of coal. I know you've attended department led training that could rival the excitement level of knitting mittens for a cat. Every day can't be the Super Bowl but every champion still has to know how to tie on their cleats. Have the best attitude, ask the best questions, and be thankful. Those that complain the loudest about training run away the fastest when the training department asks for help. Don't be that guy. Instead of being bitter try making things better.

I'm not saying everything is always fair. I've seen firefighters be set up to fail time and again. It's despicable. "That's how I was treated so that's the way I'm going to do things." Are you insane? When a firefighter fails innocent people pay the price. That's on you. Here is a novel idea. When the new guy gets assigned to your crew treat him like he will be responsible for rescuing your family next week. Because whether you like them or not, whether you think they are part of the "entitled generation", or even if you don't like their haircut or tattoos, pretty soon they will be in the position to make a difference in someones life. And guess what? When they succeed, you played a part in that too.

I wish I could bottle motivation. Give a swig to a mutt and he becomes a greyhound. I don't even know where to begin to tell you to find it for yourself but I beg you to dig for it. Seek it like a crazy person. Find people that are moving and stay so close you feel the draft. Do this for yourself: Next shift when you are driving in, take a minute to think about the individuals still in their homes as you go by. There are families, the elderly, every race, even the waitress at the restaurant you'll see later in the day. At any moment, whether they live or not might very well be up to you.

The temptation to be content with "good enough" always looms. A car tag or a title won't make you a "professional" any more than putting lab coat on a possum will make it a doctor. Professionalism is defined by performance and success sends citizens home at the end of the day. Find your restless spirit and never sit still.

Go do something.

The Calling

"The problem, often not discovered until late in life, is that when you look for things in life like love, meaning, motivation, it implies they are sitting behind a tree or under a rock. The most successful people in life recognize, that in life they create their own love, they manufacture their own meaning, they generate their own motivation."- Neil deGrasse Tyson.

Yesterday in a city about an hour from me, a 62 year old battalion chief with 40 years on the job donned his SCBA and endured a grueling PT session. I love the contrast to the RIP (retired in place) guys who drone on about being burned out. I wonder how the mind of the 2-20 guys perceive chief's actions as they sit in their recliners content with the minimum introductory training they received in the academy. If there is a greater teacher than failure I have not found him. I imagine chief has seen his share of fires that didn't go well, nights that some of his men almost didn't go home, and probably even thought a few times he might not be there to tuck his children in bed the next night. From discomfort he became fiercely vigilant while others went back to sleep.

It's shocking how we perceive things so differently. How is it that some see failure as a chance to embrace those things they didn't know and develop themselves while others just assume things will always work out despite evidence pointing to the contrary? Complacency continues to kill us but "it will never happen here". Yet it does a hundred times over every single year. Departments all over our country who have never had a LODD or serious injury find themselves at a funeral. On the front row, facing a flag draped coffin with honor guard members standing watch on each side, sits a young mother with her children. A chief dressed sharply in a Class A uniform might say something like fighting fire is "ultra-hazardous and unavoidably dangerous". It is, sometimes. Those children hear that "it was a freak accident that couldn't be prevented" even though the failures were glaring. Inadequate training. Lack of proper I.C. Incomplete 360 size up. Crew integrity is broken. No fitness program. Known deficiencies weren't addressed but to soothe and satiate we choose to embrace a lie. I don't have the ability to look into the eyes of fatherless children and say things that are only meant to make myself feel better. 

I wish I had a silver bullet cure for complacency. Sometimes I'm convinced it's just who people are. You either were meant for this job or you are here for the t-shirt and retirement. You either lead or you are dead weight. Other times I think that the fire department has failed itself for generations. Many places are fighting a culture that has set it's members up for failure rather than success. We closely guard information out of fear it might allow someone else to better themselves and surpass us. Instead of sharing knowledge and allowing the whole organization to grow we roadblock everyone and celebrate as we see people lay down their swords in defeat. 

We must do better on both counts. Recruiting the best applicants then providing them with a clear long term plan of success is the only way we win. Yes culture changes slowly but some change can't be waited on. I've lost close friends, been labeled a troublemaker, and been told the things I'm doing are "making people feel bad". My current feelings are: they weren't really my friends, I live for that sort of trouble, and the only thing that is making anyone feel bad is a look into their mirror. The stakes of this game are too high to be concerned with the opinions of sheep. Sometimes circumstances are truly beyond our control and everyone doesn't go home. God forbid that happens but I'll be damned if I sit idly by and not change the things within my reach.

A few years ago as a brand new company officer I was moved to our cities only ladder company. Our chief (now retired) had plans to begin operating as a truck company instead of a quint. For the time being though we also had an engine in house that we were supposed to take if the ladder wasn't needed. Confusing? You bet. SOP's? None. Directives? "You'll figure it out." I had lots of questions that went unanswered. I asked what success looked like for us in one month, 6 months, in one year? Are we responsible for RIT, vertical vent, forcible entry, search and rescue, or just fall into our normal arrival assignment like before? *Crickets*. I asked which truck we were supposed to take to get lunch? "You'll figure it out." Well, I didn't. I'm not being critical for the sake of bitching. I'm thankful my time there was short and I was able to move shifts onto an engine. I'm also thankful nobody needed rescuing by ladder when we were out getting a sandwich on the engine.

"Pride" has been hijacked and it's meaning soiled. I want a crew of proud men who take their job and themselves seriously. There is no shame in doing good work and feeling good about it. This isn't the little leagues where everyone gets a trophy for warming a spot on the bench. I have no qualms about saying this: I want to be the very best. The best husband, the best friend, the best firefighter, the best company officer. I want to develop myself along with others. I want to exceed my current potential then do it again. I want to be a force multiplier to everyone who is my ally and for us to take the message of The Relentless Few to the ends of the earth. This doesn't come without valuing truth and the pursuit of perfection above all else. I confess that I have often failed at all of the above but I will be dead before I let my story end with defeat.

Start here: Question everything you do. Why you are doing it that way? Is it really the best way to accomplish the task? Examine the ideas behind your best practices. Don't be afraid to discard anything that isn't efficient or effective. Eliminate excuses. "When we have some people retire, then we can make real changes." "We've just always done it that way." "You can't change things overnight." "Don't rock the boat." "You just don't understand how far we've already come." "We trained on that in recruit school. Why can't we learn something new?" "You are making the old guys feel bad." BULL CRAP!!!

Wyatt Earp screamed "NO!!!" as he left the safety of cover and waded into the river in Tombstone. Standing up for what's right is dangerous and sometimes it even paints a target on us. More and more I seek to surround myself by those not deterred by hard work, hard questions, and harder solutions. Give me a few men with those traits and we will deliver.

Stand up.

Speak out.

Be counted.

Answer your calling.

Be relentless and bring Hell with you.

The Difference

I might have been 6 years old when my dad let me tag along for a trip to town. I was the baby so I think I probably got that privilege more than my two siblings. Besides that, I was a daddy's boy. We made our way into Florence, AL. I have no idea for what only that I was excited pops had included me in the adventure. We took a side street and in front of Fire Station 1 were a few firemen watching another play with a radio controlled car. I went nuts! I begged dad to go back. What could be more exciting? Toys AND fire trucks in one stop? If you knew my dad you'd know how much of a long shot my request was. He didn't even balk though. He spun around and we wheeled onto the pad. The guys were giants in my mind. They expressed real interest in a chubby faced curly headed country kid. The firefighter with the toy took a knee, talked to me like I mattered, showed me the car and then the station. It was my earliest memory of a real fire truck. I have no idea who that guy was but I wish I could tell him how that day impacted me. I owe him more than I could ever repay but I'd like to start with a steak dinner. 

Let’s change gears. Your last shift approaches. 25+ years spending a full 1/3 of your life away from family and away from home. Soon you'll be home full time though (or more likely picking up another job to make ends meet). Let your mind see that day. You hang your bunker gear on the rack for the last time. The door closes behind you and things will never be the same. Drop by sometime after that and you'll be welcomed with a cup of coffee, laughs, and tales of old times. Walk back out that door and what will be said?

"I hated to see him retire" or "I hated him and couldn't wait for him to go."

"He was a hell of a firefighter" or "he can go to hell".

It's not about being liked but it is about making a difference. We don't work retail. A bad day at the office doesn't equate to an angry customer or a burnt waffle.  In our world not doing the job right today might mean someone isn't in this world tomorrow. Nothing is more infuriating and pathetic than someone who is just showing up. I don't care how much talent, ability, or even experience you have, if you aren't engaged and trying to deliver the best service possible, why are you here?

I already know this will ruffle feathers. Good. That means you are still capable of being convicted.

How can we settle for anything less than being the firefighter we would want coming for our family? I've often used this illustration when training. Fires in modern structures can double in size in as little as every 30 seconds. Let’s imagine that the call comes in just after shift change for a fire with confirmed entrapment. You are still in street clothes because that's just the culture at your firehouse. You run to grab a shirt, wasting a minute. The fire is spreading. You snatch your gear from the rack and get dressed. You haven't drilled PPE since recruit school so a 45 second task takes you 2 minutes. The smoke inside that structure is now pouring under the only door keeping the family alive. The street address really didn't ring a bell since territory study hasn't been a priority. Two wrong turns and two more wasted minutes later we are finally there. Conditions inside are now almost untenable. You dick around with retrieving a ladder as you see a civilian frantically waving from a smoke filled window. Clumsily you stumble through the yard looking like a first day recruit. Set the ladder, fumble with the halyard, finally ready. Mask up, climb up, forever too late.

Lay your head on the pillow after that and see how you rest. We can't make every rescue. We can't always be the hero. We will see unspeakable things in a career that makes peace impossible as it is. You will lose sleep. You will carry the weight of things you didn't create and couldn't solve. Add on top of that a career spent in incompetence and I don't know how anyone could handle it. We owe our citizens more. We owe them our best. Anything less is sickening and unacceptable. If you aren't willing to put in the work do something else. We will carry on without you just fine.

This isn't a side job. This isn't just a pension and benefits. You will be called upon during the worst imaginable times, face overwhelming odds, and suffer great loss. You will spend Christmas morning on an engine, a ladder, or a rescue while your family goes on without you. You will understand what 48 hours with barely a nap feels like. You will leave hot meals behind. You will suffer more than your share of bumps, bruises, and burns. Your spouse won't understand why you aren't yourself. Your civilian friends won't either. There will at least be one time during your career that you question if you made the right choice. However, if you prepare, if you train, if you seek wisdom from the senior man, opportunities will come that make it all worth it. Maybe a family will stop by with tear filled eyes to tell you how grateful they are to have another year with their loved one. Perhaps you'll see a baby brought into the world under less than ideal circumstances. CPR will finally work. It might be as simple as a child who decides to follow your footsteps because of a small act of kindness.

Do your job. Do it right. Never settle. Never surrender. Be relentless. Go out on your terms. It's not too late. You never need to ask permission to do the right thing.

The Complete Idiots Guide to Firefighter Fitness

Like it or not when you entered the fire service you lost your right to be out of shape. Nobody is going to stop you from munching down an entire bag of Cheetos while sitting in your sweatpants and watching Law and Order reruns but if that is normal for you, you suck. Firefighters are occupational athletes and our job is far too important to not be prepared. Watching YouTube videos and critiquing every online article from a beanbag chair accomplishes no actual good in this world and you still suck. 

Let me swim upstream just a little ways. I realize things get in the way. Life happens. Kids happen. Second jobs and second mortgages. Time seems to be shorter than ever and as much as you might want to be fit enough to make it to the CrossFit games that's just not a realistic goal for 99% of firefighters. So what is realistic? Use the time you do have. Don't lie to yourself, your crew, your family, and your city by saying "I don't have any time" because you do. Readiness has to become a priority. That may include time on shift when you labor alone in the engine bay with an ancient rusty barbell. It may include "Death by Burpees" at home in your garage when you really just want to catch up on The Walking Dead. Yes, you might even have to get up an hour earlier on a rainy Saturday to meet up with the other mental patients at the gym. If that's too hard then tough tallywhackers. Either start taking some baby steps to improve today or write a letter to your family telling them you knew how to prevent a heart attack on duty but were too lazy to do anything about it. Nobody else should have to explain that to them but you.

If you are a chief officer or decision maker and are reading this, WAKE UP! You create the culture your crews live in. It makes me mad enough to eat bees when I hear of some pencil pushing desk jockey going out of their way to keep good men and women from improving themselves. Fit responders deliver a better service to their jurisdiction and incur fewer injuries doing so. Those facts aren't debatable. You need to be creating a wellness plan. If that is too foreign of a concept then at least be a facilitator and get out of people's way.

All this seem a little harsh to you? Good. The "Participation Trophy" mentality is not welcome in the firehouse and titty babies can hit the bricks. You will not be missed by those brave few who fight on. I don't care about your feelings, I care about your life, my brothers who ride the truck with you, and the citizens you are sworn to protect. If you can't do your job you are useless to me. I'm not telling you that at 60 you have to have a sub 2:00 Firefighter Combat Challenge time. That's stupid. I am telling you that despite your achy shoulders and old football injuries you have a physical potential that you are obligated to maintain. It's a sliding scale that declines over time but if you still jump on the truck and other lives depend on you then you better learn to suck it up and do the right thing.

Now that I've pissed half of you off here are my 5 guidelines for Fire Service Fitness:

1.) More is NOT always better.

In 2009 the Surgeon General recommended getting 150 minutes of moderate to intense exercise per week. In 2011 it was modified adding at least two days of strength training per week. Salty Sam says "since the Surgeon General is a big puss and I'm a superhero firefighter I need to at least triple all that right?" Salty Sam is stupid.

Do I think the US government always knows best? Not even close. What's my point then? Somehow most people have come to believe that within their body lies an infinite well of physical potential and it can only be obtained by wrecking themselves repeatedly. If a 10 minute conditioning workout twice per week  is good then a 60 minute workout once a day will get me fit at least ten times faster right? No, just no. You aren't Rocky and fitness doesn't work that way.

Let's stay with the "well" analogy. Within your body is a well and its depth represents your level of fitness. The more fit we are the more we can draw from it when we need it but the well doesn't refill instantly. Continuing to demand more and more without time for recovery and replenishment will result in crumbling walls and muddy water (loss of energy, chronic fatigue, injuries). Wellness is a long term goal and it must be approached correctly which leads right into point number deuce.

2.) Don't be stupid.

Stupid seems so much more prevalent in men and I speak from a vast experience of stupid. We just do a lot of dumb things and somehow think the consequences will miss us. They won't. It always catches up.

"I don't need much sleep". Yes you do. Oh, and you're an idiot. Hundreds of thousands of hours of research has been performed and tens of thousands of pages have been written about the importance of sleep. If you don't approach that 8 hour per night goal you are set for failure before getting off the launchpad.

"It's been hurting for a few weeks but I figured I could just push through the pain". You can't. With a little experience you will know the difference between your muscles telling you they are sore and your body telling you it needs attention. Ignore the warning signs and you'll be down for the count and your idiot record will still be intact.

I believe there is a small part of our consciousness that tends to make good decisions. In just about every idiotic choice I've made I can recall that voice of reason. I have usually chosen to ignore it but it was clear and more times than not "I knew better" was the conclusion. In his book Unbeatable Mind, Mark Divine calls it our "witness". Stop being dumb, listen to your witness, slow down and use some common sense.

3.) Follow good programming.

This means following programming that is good for you at your current strength and conditioning level, not something fit for an elite Ironman. Unless you are an elite Ironman competitor then by all means carry on. "Scaling" is not a bad word (see #2 above). If you don't want to live in the hurt locker and long term success is your goal then learn to swallow your pride. I plan to contribute for another 20 years and that isn't going to happen without well thought out goals and a plan to achieve them.

While some factors on the fireground are indeed unknown and unknowable, there are many things we continue to encounter. Our gear will always be hot, heavy, and cumbersome. Axes have a predetermined weight. Victims will continue to be difficult to lift and move. SCBA bottles contain a finite amount of air. Limiting your training to long slow distance running isn't going to prepare you very well for forcing doors and rescuing fat Uncle Randy.

"The Law of Specificity of Training" is something you probably have never heard of and that doesn't matter. What does matter is specifically preparing for the known aspects of the job. Functional movements performed in realistic time domains transfer well to the fireground. A good trainer or coach will provide a well balanced, whole body approach to helping you improve your overall fitness. A great trainer will help you add in elements unique to the needs of a firefighter and make certain allowances from time to time.

To  "follow good programming"  includes not jumping ship in a month because you haven't transformed into Thor via divine intervention. You didn't get 50lbs overweight overnight and there is no 6 week program, even if accompanied by a miracle bowel cleanse and super powered Ovaltine energy boost, that is going to undo the damage that 10 years of crap eating and recliner riding has done.

4.) Do what you love.

When I first became a personal trainer, the manager at our gym was speechless when she heard me tell a client to avoid the treadmill. That client loathed the monotony of it and dreaded every trip to our facility so I sought out other ways to help them achieve their goal of losing weight.

If you would rather close your thumb in a car door than run, don't make yourself do it five times a week. At the very least dramatically trim down the distance  you include in your workouts. When you actually enjoy training it will be the start of an awakening. I almost never run a distance over 400 meters but my 5k time is within two minutes of a few years ago when I was logging around 25 miles per week.

I began toying with CrossFit in 2011. I'd heard a lot of buzz about it especially relating to combat readiness so I wanted to see what it was all about. It was 2012 before a "box" opened in my city but I've been a member ever since and consider many of our athletes family. I have not dreaded a workout since diving in at CrossFit Protocol. That's not to say I don't have a good deal of apprehension about some of the crap our head coach programs. (If you are reading this Scott I still think it's good programming but it does make me think you are a sadist and a sicko on occasion). It's different to face something tough with a team that cares about who you are and how you do. Isn't that what the fire service is supposed to be like?

There is nothing wrong with following Outlaw programming on your own if that makes you happy. Love riding your bike? Ride on. Love shooting hoops? Wear the leather out. If it is helping you become a better firefighter I salute you. For the love of all that is holy and in the name of Brunacini just find some stinking passion!

One other small piece of advice. Find a way to be accountable. Invite some of your crew over a few nights a week. Ask the wife to buy in with you. Heck, your annoying neighbor might even be the push you need. People tend to stay true for far more longer when someone else is expecting them to.

5.) Eat real food.

I'm not a nutritionist but you don't need a PhD to know that eating a gazillion calories worth of honey buns every day probably isn't the greatest of ideas. The most simple way I've heard it expressed is this: "eat meat and vegetables, nuts and seeds, some fruit, little startch, and no sugar." If it grows in the ground in the form you find it in or if it had a face when alive its probably somewhat nutritious.

I would encourage you to check out whole30.com or wholelifechallenge.com and nerd out. I am not a fan of short term diets but both of these websites are full of great information. My wife and I completed the strictest form of the Whole30 and it was life changing.

If you aren't ready to jump on board just yet, start by making one better decision at a time. Start drinking water, then start drinking more. Trim down your soda habit then cut it out. Stop eating sweets after supper for a few weeks, then stop after lunch.

CONCLUSION

You have been blessed with an opportunity at having the best career in the world. Thousands have gone before you creating a rich heritage that has made the fire service an object of pride, respect, and dedication. Millions now depend on the American firefighter during their most vulnerable moments and when you show up they expect nothing less than Superman. Don't be a moron and piss it all away because you love the taste of ice cream. Everybody loves ice cream. I just love being a firefighter more.

Whitewashed Tombs

You don't need permission to do the right thing. That seems simple enough but at times some people need it spelled out, a map drawn for them in detail, and have someone connecting the dots in crayon in order to accomplish even the simplest of tasks. Is it really that difficult? It doesn't have to be. I hope for you it isn't.

Cold and stale leadership models ripped from the pages of a fire service manual are about as ineffective as tits on a boar hog. In it's simplest measure effective leadership starts as a decision. One decides they are going to do what's right, not what's easy, and stubbornly refuse to be swayed from that path. But sometimes we mistake movement for leadership. 

A few years ago a young man, whose wife was training for a marathon, gave her a GPS watch for Christmas. She was ecstatic at first but soon after she was disappointed and asked if they could exchange or return it. When he asked why she answered that she had just ran 13 miles on the treadmill and the watch didn't show she had travelled a single step. Activity doesn't always equate progress.

Don't we do the same thing? If we schedule enough crap through the day we feel like we are getting somewhere. Instead of dealing with the big issues we just increase the incline and bump up the speed of the belt. We don't have time to train but will spend all shift on a pet project. Equipment goes unchecked, our stations neglected, and we are less prepared today than ever before. 

Some have described the difference as putting on a costume instead of a uniform. Jesus called them hypocrites. The literal meaning of hypocrite was a play actor that filled several roles in the same play who would simply change masks between roles.

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but within are full of dead people's bones and all uncleanness. So you also outwardly appear righteous to others, but within you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness." Matthew 23:27,28.

Let's create another committee, schedule another meeting and argue for weeks over the color of paint chosen to put on 50 year old walls. God forbid if there should be anyone who dares step off the treadmill and make real progress. They must be stopped at all costs, undermined at every turn, and derailed at the earliest possibility. Forget it that we offered no solutions nor been willing to break a sweat. Monday morning quarterbacks cannot be dissuaded. If morale starts to creep up we'll split up that crew "in the best interest of the department". Things like that happen when decision makers have spent their career furthering their own interests instead of in pursuit of bettering the brotherhood.

It's time we stopped pretending, took off the mask, and owned our actions. Provide real leadership or grow comfortable knowing that you will be quickly forgotten. At the end of your last shift, as your career comes to an end, how will you be remembered?

Did you make a difference to those in the community or will you be remembered as an example of how not to act?

Were the crews you worked with blessed by you or did they dread the passing of 24 hours in your presence? 

Did you leave things better than they were when you started and treat people better than you were treated?

Did you become a mentor and help young firefighters become old firefighters? Or did you waste away your time complaining about things you really had no control over to start with?

Talk less, train more. Complain less, praise more. Lead, follow, or get out of the way.

One more step...

It's hard to breath. Sweat stings my eyes until they blur and a bald head does nothing to stem the steady flow. I chose to be here. I live for this moment. My body begs to slow, to rest, to just quit. My heart says no. The family that surrounds me shares in my suffering. Their lungs burn too. Their muscles struggle to obey the message traveling down from the brain. Pain endured begets more pain but there is nowhere else we'd rather be.

"ONE MINUTE!" Moments later my mind computes the voice belongs to that of our coach. Sixty seconds stretch on for what seems like forever. The man on my right, a round behind. On my left, he's a few reps ahead and 10 years younger. Who cares. He might win this one but he's going to have to earn it. I push until the distinct copper taste of blood permeates my mouth.

"THREE!" Another rep.

"TWO!" Just keep going.

"ONE!" Almost there.

"TIME!!!"

The music lowers from teeth rattling to conversational. All around the box people writhe in the "CrossFit recovery position" on the floor. I've been there but it doesn't feel right. However in that moment it feels like the only thing you could possibly do. Lay down. Give in. Win or lose the fight is over but I fight to stay upright. I force my breathing to slow and command my body to be steady. It protests. I walk clumsily but I refuse to crash. I chide some of our best athletes, probably ahead of me when the scores are logged, but for now I stand over them.  Phrases about Spartans walking off the battlefield part my lips. At least that's what I try to cough out between heaving breaths. I won't lie down. I won't willingly give my body even one moment where it wins over my mind. If it won't obey me now it will remember this moment later when the stakes aren't pride and bragging rights.

It's hard to breath. Sweat stings my eyes until they blur and a bald head does nothing to stem the steady flow. I chose to be here. I live for this moment. My body screams at me to just quit. My heart says no. Something has gone bump in the night and we are taking the fight directly to our adversary. My family shares in my suffering. Their lungs burn too. Their muscles struggle to obey the message traveling down from the brain. Pain endured begets more pain but there is nowhere else we'd rather be.

Then silence. Loud silence. White noise. A few seconds later my mind computes I'm on the job. On my right, a bright glow and searing heat. Did I fall into a basement? On my left, a motionless body, PASS now chirping about to alert. Pain begets more pain. I've read about this, heard stories told by valiant men with shaky voices who thought their time had come. I push but the distinct copper taste of blood permeates my mouth. Something whispers "just let go" but it doesn't feel right. Right now it feels like it's the only thing I can do. Lay down. Give in. The fight is over. Maybe the Devil wins this one. But one voice emerges from deep within my soul. Seemingly in opposition to a thousand more it chides me. "And you thought yourself a warrior? Your just going to lie there with your family waiting for you at home? What about the promise you made to the mother of the man by your side to always keep him safe?" Maybe the Devil does win this one but he's going to have to earn it...


When you became a firefighter you lost the right to be out of shape. If that stings, it should. You owe it to yourself, your family, and the family of the men and women by your side to be the best version of yourself. The stakes are too high and the penalty is too great for those who choose to ignore this law. I'm not telling you this to push you out of the fire service. I'm telling you this in hopes you start moving in the right direction. Go to battle with your body and listen closely to what it tells you. When pain marks injury, BE SMART and take care of yourself. When pain marks weakness, BE STRONG. Develop mental toughness when you can control your environment and there will be carry over to those times when your environment might not be as forgiving. Capt. Paddy Brown (FDNY deceased 9/11/01) said "you can do everything right on this job and still get killed." It's a fact that firefighting is ultra-hazardous and unavoidably dangerous. May it never be though that my lack of disciplines become my demise.

Nobody gets out of this world alive. Slowly but surely youth fades. Strength turns to weakness. Every man dies but not every man truly lives. However while the day is young, while the sun is bright, as long as I am possibly able, I will fight on.

And as the clock begins to expire on this gift of life God has bestowed upon me:

"THREE!" One more step.

"TWO!" Just keep going.

"ONE!" Almost there.

"TIME!" Welcome home.