But the transition from hell-raiser to college kid wasn’t easy. I had a burning desire to do anything but sit in a classroom listening to a professor and taking notes.
I thought maybe I’d be suited to being a policeman, because cops saw action and carried guns. I could be like my hero Evel Knievel, who had switched from black leather to white. So I signed up for a course in criminal justice.
The first day of class, the instructor asked, “How many of you here think you want to become cops?”
Practically everyone in the room raised his or her hand, including me.
He said, “You want to be cops because of what you’ve seen on TV. The chases, the shootouts. Isn’t that right?”
A bunch of us answered, “Yes.”
“Well, those things will never happen,” he said. “You pull your weapon from your holster, and you’re in court the next day defending yourself. The hours are terrible. So is the pay. The divorce rate is the highest of all civilian jobs. You spend most of your time writing parking tickets.”
Now I had to find something else. The question was, What?
I was still racing motocross, and even though it was expensive and dangerous, it remained a good outlet for my relentless energy. My friend Dave Kelliher, who was a professional rider, told me that if I wanted to get serious, I needed to start training.
“What do you mean? I’m at the motocross track all the time.”
“I’m talking about physical training,” he answered. “I run ten miles three times a week.”
At that point, I’d never run in my life.
The next morning, I met him at this house in North Haven. Dave had measured this one-mile loop in his neighborhood that he ran ten times. I completed the first mile with him at a leisurely pace but didn’t feel good. The second mile I was breathing hard and felt like I was going to be sick.
After the third, I sat on the grass and watched. I’d had enough.
By the time Dave was on his sixth mile, I was thinking, I’m watching a professional motocross racer get fitter and stronger. And I’m sitting here on the grass like a quitter.
As I watched him complete the tenth mile, I felt completely pathetic.
The next day, I started running, and I haven’t stopped since.
When I ran with Dave a month later, I beat him.
About four months after that, I ran the Boston Marathon. It was brutal, but I promised myself that I wouldn’t stop running until I crossed the finish line. Bill Rodgers won that year, with a time of two hours, nine minutes, and fifty-five seconds. My time was three hours and forty-four minutes.
I was determined to get better. I trained hard every day. A month after that, when I ran a second marathon, my time was three hours and thirty-three minutes.
My third marathon, I got it down to three hours and fifteen minutes and finished in the top 20 percent.
A month after that, I clocked in at three hours and six minutes.
Now I had to beat three hours. A couple weeks later, I did, crossing the finish line at two hours, fifty minutes. I’d made the top ten.
I started to realize something important: if you push yourself, you can accomplish great things.
I wanted to channel all the energy I had into something worthwhile, to find a way to make up for some of the bad things I’d done and the misery I’d put my parents through.
I just needed to find the right outlet.
I joined the Navy like my dad.
Chapter Four
The Navy
If you only do what you think you can do, you never do very much.
—Tom Krause
The funniest story I’ve ever heard about joining the Navy involves a buddy of mine, a fellow SEAL. His name was Don, but we called him Boats because he was a boatswain’s mate.
Boats, a big, gruff guy covered with tattoos, described himself as a skinny, geeky kid in high school—the kind of boy that girls had zero interest in.
On the afternoon of Boats’s seventeenth birthday, one of the most beautiful girls in school approached him in the hallway. Her name was Patty.
She stopped in front of him and said, “I heard that today’s your birthday. Is that correct?”
Looking down at his shoes, he answered, “Uh, yes, Patty.”
Just being near her and speaking to her was exciting. When she actually touched his arm, he felt a tingle shoot through his body.
She purred, “That’s great. Congratulations.”
“Uh, thanks, but it happens to everyone.”
Patty trained her beautiful blue eyes on his and said, “You know, my parents are going out tonight. Why don’t you come over to my house at seven and I’ll make you dinner?”
Boats couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He stammered, “Wh-wh-what did you just say?”
“It’s your birthday and my parents are going to be out tonight. So why don’t you come over and I’ll cook you dinner? Would you like that?”