In case you didn't immediately check out the geostats of
Bagram via the link I provided in my last post, the base is located in a valley
amongst the Hindu Kush (Hindu Slaughter - more on that some other day)
mountain range and has an elevation of approximately 4,895 feet. To put that in perspective, there are 5,280
feet in a mile.
Fort Campbell is at approximately 544 feet. Making the difference between Bagram and Fort
Campbell about 4,350 feet; or, the approximate elevation of my home town of
Salt Lake City, Utah. Meaning, if you
add Salt Lake to Fort Campbell, you get the Bagram elevation - about three
hundred feet short of a mile.
As you might imagine, the air is considerably thinner
here than what we are used to at Fort Campbell and it takes a bit of time to
acclimatize to the change. I figured a
week would be enough time for me to adapt and I decided to go for my first run
yesterday. I knew there was a mile-loop
within our area where many Soldiers do their PT, but I wanted something a bit
longer without making multiple laps and figured I would try out the four-mile
loop one of the soon-to-be-departing 82nd Airborne Soldiers told me about.
Around 0530 I oriented myself on the sun to make sure I
was tracking the compass points in relation to our living quarters and began my
run. I took the first left-turn, as I
thought the 82nd Soldier indicated, and hit a nice long stretch around a mile
long. After about two-miles I knew I had
gone well past our area but figured I would eventually come to the left turn
that would loop me back so I kept on going - there were vehicles and other
Soldiers on the road so I was not too concerned.
After about three miles I was beginning to get a bit
concerned since I seemed to be heading further east - the opposite direction of
where I wanted to return. I was still
passing Soldiers and vehicles but there didn't seem to be any roads heading
back to where I wanted to go; "Good grief", I was thinking to myself,
"this is going to turn into an eight-miler."
The topography of the area is a bit like a very rumpled
bed with rolling hills and dips so I couldn't depend on line-of-sight for
orientation - I was basically tracking the sun and the departing/arriving
aircraft from the airstrip to keep myself from going too far off the
reservation.
I was feeling the burn but finally came to T-intersection
in the road where a left-turn looked like it would take me back. So I took the left and began heading down the
straight road - that appeared to bend to the left about two-miles down.
At this point, I had been running for about 50-minutes, had
already gone at least five miles and was thinking I should only have to go a
few more to get back; I was feeling the classic symptoms of altitude sickness
such as fatigue/weakness, shortness of breath and I was a bit dizzy and
light-headed, but, hey, that's how an old guy like me feels after running five
miles.
About 500 meters, or about a third of the way, down the
straight-away, I realized there weren't so many vehicles passing me any longer
and I hadn't seen any Soldiers in a bit either.
I wasn't really concerned; more mad at myself for obviously missing a
turn somewhere and figuring this long run was what I deserved for not paying
attention.
Then a white vehicle approached me, slowed down, and
stopped. It was the Military
Police.
They rolled down the front passenger window and the
driver asked me if I knew this was a "No PT route".
"No," I answered, "I have only been
in-country for a week and this is my first time running out here."
She replied, "Well, there is a sign posted saying
this road is a non-running route: this is called Sniper Alley."
"Oh," I said, "That doesn't sound
good."
She told me to get in the vehicle and she would give me a
ride back. I was very grateful as after
I had stopped to talk with them, my body flooded with exhaustion and I could
barely catch my breath.
Well, it seems a ride back meant just 500-meters back to
the T-intersection. They dumped me out
there, and to add insult to injury, proceeded on the way I needed to run to get
back.
As my Dad would say, "Those dirty rotten, ratzzle,
frazzing, grrmmble!"
I really was beat by then and ended up mixing-up a bit of
walking with my running but after around two-miles, I found the left-turn (now
a right) I had originally missed - it was about at the two-mile mark from where
I had first started - and finally ended up on the one-mile loop.
After a little over 80-minutes of running and at least
eight miles, I finally straggled back to my living quarters where I drained two
bottles of water and collapsed on my bed.
I am Very grateful I learned the name of "Sniper
Alley" from the MPs (and the lift, short as it was) instead of personal
experience and I am going to be much more careful about my routes, but I am
still going to keep running, man.
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