Mud Sweat & Tears - Bear Grylls [52]
The strange thing was that I was thriving.
We rarely got shouted at, and, for now, we were only asked to do these three basic tasks: navigate across the mountains; carry the weight; be within the time.
The soldiering stuff would come later on, but only to those who had first proved themselves capable of working to the max; whatever the conditions.
I liked this whole ethos.
Pretty soon, the number of recruits in our squadron was down to under ten men, and we’d only just completed half of the mountain weekends. Trucker was still there, but many of the muscle-guys had long since fallen by the wayside.
What was clear was that Selection was taking its toll on us all physically.
After each weekend my feet and my bruised body would take days to recover. I would hobble about on tender feet and aching limbs.
My body still felt relatively virgin for this level of mountain endurance work. I was still only twenty, and significantly younger than any of the other soldiers on Selection. Endurance comes with age.
It was no surprise that so few young guys passed, and that the optimum age was late twenties.
It would be a long journey, and getting used to the strain took time. The key was that I had to learn to recover quickly.
This skill would end up taking me months to develop.
In the early days, my calves would be in agony after one of the long, repeated, ‘fireman’s lift’ hill sessions, and my shoulders would start to burn after just a few hours of carrying the heavy pack around the mountains – but steadily, over time, I hardened.
Another vital lesson I learnt, during this first phase of Selection, was how to listen to and prepare my body properly: the right food, the right rest, the right training.
To what level of intensity should I train at in-between the tests, and how often?
A big mistake that soldiers often made, in preparing for Selection, was to over-train and then get hurt – and with an injury, Selection becomes virtually impossible.
It is an intricate balance and requires you to listen carefully to your own body.
This skill has helped me so much in my life since.
CHAPTER 46
One thing that I have always found annoying is that when I most need sleep, I often find it hardest to achieve.
It is a horrible, pit-of-the-stomach feeling: lying wide awake in bed, scared of what is ahead, knowing that your body needs rest, yet unable to switch off.
My head is constantly racing, and the less sleep I get the more it bothers my already troubled mind.
And what was ahead was troubling me – a lot.
Our first make or break big physical test. Fail this and you were off the course.
No questions asked.
Infamous in SAS circles as a real tester of character, this mountain ‘test’ is a gruelling eighteen-mile ‘speed’ march (run) in full kit, almost three thousand feet up and then down the other side of one particular high peak, then all the way back to the start.
One minute outside of the set time and you were RTU’d – no second attempts.
At the foot of the mountain on a mild, clear-skied morning, I was more nervous, awaiting the set-off time for this, than I had been about anything so far.
Do I have enough food in me; am I going to be strong today; will I be able to maintain the pace?
Within minutes of starting up the steep track, Trucker and the front group had pulled ahead of me.
Come on, Bear, push harder – you can rest all you want at the end, but go for it now.
Weighed down under 45 lb of Bergen, belt kit, rifle, food and water, moving at that speed wasn’t easy. After an hour, all my clothes were drenched in sweat, and I was striving with all I had to push my body on, faster and faster.
At the halfway mark, I took a quick gulp of water, and then I was off again – back up the long track through the foothills, towards the distant summit.
But I was behind time, and I knew it.
I was angry with myself.
Trucker had looked so in control as he had passed me on his way back: running confidently, looking strong. In contrast, I knew that I looked as I felt: a wreck. My head was down, my eyes were down,