Puke While You Run

It’s good to remember the things that made you who you are today, even if they may be as insignificant as being chewed out by an instructor while on a run. These are the things that forge your character and define what kind of person you want to be. And yes, I really did name this “Puke While You Run.”  You’ll get the reference later. 

I’ve written a lot recently, publicly and privately, about my ex getting engaged and the toll it’s taken on me. This is especially so after I ran into both at a local restaurant. The old me would have broken every bone in his body. It’s needless to say I’m not over her. Since finding out about her engagement, my life took a brief but very hard downward spiral with a weekend full of drinking and bad thoughts. I snapped out of it shortly after and have frequented the gym so often I can hardly feel a muscle. I’ve been fishing, started writing again, been involved in my men’s group and have really invested time in my friendships.

One of the things that is constantly on my mind, and I would say helped in making me snap out of it is a constant memory that I have from about over twenty years ago. At the time, I was enrolled in the police academy, eager to graduate and go on patrol at the department I had been hired. This specific academy was run by current and former police officers, most of which had spent time in the military. I recall our first morning run together: I fell back before anybody knew it and I had one of the instructors yelling at me to catch up. I had come up with some weak excuse that I needed to puke hence why I was stopping (I was in no way in shape at this time, at least not the physical shape they demanded). 

This instructor was a no-bullshit instructor. He had enlisted in the Marine Corps in the 80s right out of high school. He had been commissioned as an officer and went on to be a forward air observer with the light-armored reconnaissance units. When he left the Corps, he joined the force and, eventually, became an instructor. He would become pivotal in my rearing as a cadet and police officer.

We were running by the lake in formation, not even at a fast pace, but I had fallen behind and was dry heaving. Suddenly, Major C ran up by me and yelled, “Cadet Gamez! If you’re gonna puke, then puke while you run! Don’t stop running!”

He made a valid point: What’s the reason to stop running of you can puke AND run? Marvel idea, right? For some reason that memory stuck with me for years, and it brought me laughter at times when I needed it. Many years later. I was having dinner with my mom and a good friend of mine at a local restaurant when I ran into Major C. We embraced like long lost brothers, and he gave me the spiel on how I didn’t have to refer to him as “Sir” anymore. My mother was also very glad to see him because she knew the impact he had had on my life. He was off to dinner with his fiancée, but we agreed to meet later in the week for a drink at a bar down the street from where we worked.

When we met up, I came full disclosure about my recent troubles. I had been through a very traumatic experience while working as a police officer which was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Shortly after, I quit my job and moved back to Madison. I moved in with a girl I had just started seeing then. It was a bit too fast, but it felt right, plus, I needed a place to stay. Six months later, this proved to be a grave mistake as she left me for someone else and I spent the next six or seven months drinking myself to death, getting in bar fights and driving drunk. On a lighter note, I mentioned how I had never forgotten that incident by the lake and how it brought me joy even though I wasn’t doing so well at the time.

We had a lengthy conversation about it all. He had also gone through some troubles: his soon to be ex wife had committed suicide. He had been arrested when his teenage son took a swing at him, and he defended himself. This same son was a heroin addict in one of our suburbs and was probably going to wind up dead soon. Moreover, Major C.’s parents had driven in to Madison with his nieces for the horse expo in their RV and horse trailer. Apparently, they had somehow died of carbon monoxide poisoning. 

After we shared our “war stories” about what had happened while we hadn’t been in touch, Major C. told me something that, once again I will never forget: “Whatever you do, don’t stop running. Puke while you run.”

What Major C. meant, was don’t quit, don’t stop fighting, don’t give up. And so, it was. I was sober within days, though it wasn’t easy. I went back to my all-time mistress: boxing and competed in a few fights before hanging up the ropes for good.  I got my life and job in order. 

For those of you struggling with heartbreak, loss of a loved one, loss of a job, transitioning out of the military or any significant life change: DON’T STOP RUNNING! PUKE WHILE YOU RUN!

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This first appeared in The Havok Journal on September 24, 2024.

Nader Gamez has a wide background of experience, describing himself as “Basically a Chicago street thug combined with border town Texican and a side of Madison Midwesterner.” He graduated with a BA in International Studies from the University of Wisconsin, Madison, with a minor in drinking.

Since then, he has worked several law enforcement and correctional jobs starting with the Dane County Sheriff’s Office, the Waukesha Police Department, the Wisconsin Department of Corrections and Department of Health Services, and Mendota Mental Health Institute. He also competed in amateur boxing as well as with local rugby teams.

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.