Going Down is Not Going Backward

During times of adversity, it is easy to feel like we just don’t have any good options. We’ve worked hard to get to where we’re at, and we intend to keep making progress - moving ever closer to our long-term goals. The last thing we want to do is give up ground. We get it. And we’ve got good news and bad news.

Let’s start with the bad news: life is full of setbacks. The path to success is not only uphill, but has a lot ups and downs. There are going to be days (even years) where it feels like we are losing altitude.

Now for the good news: going downhill is not going backward. There is only way out of difficult times and that is forward. So even if you’ve got to take some steps that feel like you’re trending downward, take heart in knowing that you’re still moving forward.

3 a.m. in the Patrol Base

Ranger School sucks. Days never truly stop, but they all start at “before morning nautical twilight” (BMNT), thirty minutes before sunrise when the stars go out and the sun is creeping towards the sky. Coincidentally, this is also the coldest part of the day. Shivering, with little to no sleep, security is checked, weapons maintenance is done, hygiene is conducted, and chow is eaten (always last) all while the Patrol Leader receives another mission from HQ. The troops are bleary, but steely eyed by dawn, a Ranger practice that has been in place since 1755 under Major Robert Rogers.  

The patrol initiates movement, before completing the plan, followed by a typical day of patrolling under grueling weight through the woods, mountains, or swamps. At some point, the unit conducts reconnaissance of an objective, attacks an enemy position, withdraws, and moves to a new patrol base - where everything is repeated. Day after day, night after night. It is relentless.

A lot of weird stuff happens during the dark and hopeless hours between midnight and sunrise in a patrol base filled with 40 exhausted, starving, and sleep deprived Ranger students. There are countless (and mostly true) stories of Rangers mistaking trees for vending machines, talking to shrubs, hallucinating an enemy in front of their position, and a host of other oddities you rarely see anywhere else. One night a Ranger was walking around the patrol base half naked with his imaginary key fob out clicking the horn button. He was quite upset to be informed that he would not be finding his car, but got over it once he was placed on his ruck and told to go to sleep. 

Sleep may be an option (or a necessity) for an individual contributor, but not for the Patrol Leader. 3:00 am in the patrol base is where you make your money as a leader. Stumbling through the camp amidst the scattered, shivering bodies, you have to set your eyes on the tasks at hand to accomplish the mission. As a leader, you cannot “mail it in” at 3:00 am in the patrol base. 

3:00 am in the patrol base is when the last thing you want to do is the first thing you need to do. 

Your 3:00 am tasks can make or break you. In Ranger School, it’s when you check the position of the machine guns to create the best security perimeter for your platoon. In your organization, it might look like that monthly report, that monthly client update, or the project that you just haven’t gotten to. 

You’ve worked that full day, coached your team, supported them during their trials, reduced those obstacles that keep them from achieving their monthly goal, or gone the extra mile for a company initiative. And yet there’s still those extra few tasks that are wholly yours or those delegated tasks that must be monitored for mission success.

A leader's work is never done. And a leader should never be out-committed by one of their people.  

When it’s “3:00 am in the patrol base” in your organization, it’s your time to earn your salt, leader. Though imperfect at times, you must be the one in the patrol that insists your people get their 30 minutes of sleep while you check the guns to ensure the unit is covered. You have to check the sector stakes to make necessary adjustments, which means you have to get up and move. 

Dig deep in that moment. In Ranger School, the difference between you getting your “GO” to graduate, or earning a “NO-GO” and recycling is the willingness to choose the hard right over the easy wrong at 3:00 am in the patrol base. In business, it might be the difference between your next professional breakthrough or another year of “good enough” performance. 

You’ve put in the work, of that we have no doubt. We know you’re tired and hungry and deserve a little reprieve. But this is when your people need you most. Checking the guns at 3:00 am isn’t glamorous, and will likely go unappreciated - until it isn’t done and the patrol gets overrun. Trust us when we say that your consistency and intentionality compounded over time will ultimately breed mission and team success. 

So, it’s 3:00 am in the patrol base, leader, what needs to get done? 

Thumbnail photo credit: tfiorez via Unsplash

Trustworthy Instincts

Trustworthy Instincts are where the gut and the head collide. Tested over time and refined through experience, they allow us to make sound, timely decisions in stressful situations - which is essentially a superpower in today’s world.

Part of what makes humans so special is that we have both instincts and intellect. Like other animals, we are born with a set of innate abilities. There are things that we just know how to do (or know not to do) without ever being taught. Our instincts are powerful and play a critical role in how we move through the world. They allow us to ‘feel’ when something is right, or a bit off, or dangerous - but they only get us so far. In fact, some of our natural instincts, the ones that kept our ancient ancestors alive, can be counterproductive in modern times. Our environment has changed a ton over the past few thousand years, and our biology just can’t seem to keep up. Fortunately, we also have the ability to reason. We can document, share knowledge, and analyze the world around us. Humans are learning, meaning-making creations and we love to figure things out. We’ve got a lot going for us.

The challenge, of course, is how to properly blend all of this awesome ability. How do we operate in this modern world without missing the facts or muting our instincts? We’ve got more stimulus, more data, and more distractions than ever in human history - and we still need to make sound decisions in life, love, and business. Whether looking for the right employee or business partner, making a strategy decision, or choosing a life partner, the variables are complex and the stakes are typically high. So what do we do? How can we hone our instincts to make them truly trustworthy? 

“Guys...how do I not get fooled again in business?” 

The question was so honest and refreshing that we had to take it in for a moment before we continued with our whiteboard jam session. We’ve all been fooled before. We’ve been fooled by others, and worse by ourselves. It caused us to linger a bit longer on the topic and really consider how can we keep ourselves from being fooled in the future?

Photo Credit: @aj40 via unsplash

Part of the problem is that as complex creations, we tend to look at important decisions through two different, and often opposing lenses. It’s confusing because on one hand, we are increasingly encouraged to be data driven - to avoid our unconscious biases and make decisions more analytically. But on the other hand, we have a growing cadre of folks telling us to “go with your gut and follow your heart!” That if we just meditate on it, we’ll know what to do. 

Either held separately is bad advice. 

As whole people we have to integrate our faculties to be truly effective. We have to understand the quantifiable nature of decision making in context with our feelings, culture, and values. We can’t (and won’t) offer you a protocol or flow chart on how to make better decisions. And we certainly can’t teach you to have perfect ‘Spidey Senses’. What we can do is offer you a process to start developing trustworthy instincts - a framework to help you start merging the head and gut, all in an effort to help you make better decisions. 

As with everything we discuss at Applied Leadership Partners, this is easier said than done. But we think if you start here, you’ll be well on your way.

1. Quantify: What are your goals, parameters, or hopes for the given situation? Who or what are you looking for and why? What are your expectations? Failing to quantify who or what you are looking for leaves the process up to chance. And chance is not a strategy. If you know where you are headed, with an idea of what you are looking for, you can analyze emerging details during the process. 

2. Acknowledge: What do you do when your gut is telling you something is just a bit off? Take the time to acknowledge the feeling and linger before reacting. Your “gut” is a combination of physiological, experiential, values based, biological, intellectual, emotional, and spiritual factors. Don’t ignore it! Take notice when your gut is talking to you, there is a reason. 

3. Process: Do you understand what your gut is trying to tell you? Have you been here before? Process what you are feeling the way you best process (journal, exercise, meditate, pray, breathe, doodle...whatever it takes). Give yourself what you need in order to emerge with a better understanding of what you are feeling. Suspend judgement by taking words like, good or bad, out of the exercise. Some of your greatest breakthroughs may occur during these moments, so be willing to grow. A good way you can come to a point of understanding is if you can write it down in a few sentences, or speak it out loud in two minutes or less.  

4. Compare: Does this gut feeling align, or conflict with your quantifiables? Reacting is acting out of emotion. Responding is making the best decision possible with all available factors and feelings considered at the time. Once you can articulate your feelings, examine them against your stated goals and desired outcome. 

5. Decide: Make your call and move on, fast if possible, and reflect on the outcomes. If your gut got it right, buy it a taco and enjoy. If it led you astray, take a few extra steps...

Photo Credit: @joshuaearle via Unsplash

Easy decisions are nice when they are easy. But most decisions include people, and people are not math problems. If you find yourself badly wanting something (or someone) that just does not align with your quantifiables (or not wanting something that does), take the time to truly interrogate why.

6. Reflect: From where did your expectations and needs originate? Are you achieving the results you hope for while operating under these parameters? In moments like these, we typically discover the difference between our stated and our revealed preferences. There is nothing wrong with identifying a problem, or recognizing that your needs have either changed along the way, or that you didn’t really want what you thought in the first place. 

7. Refine: Are you willing to grow? Sometimes we have to let go of things that are holding us back from achieving what we truly hope for. If your revealed preference is different from your stated preference, name it and change it. Authenticity means leading and living in your own skin. 

You will win some, and you will lose some, but you will learn from them all. 

We’ll never be able to completely feel, or reason, our way through life’s most important decisions. We need to leverage our head AND our gut. Doing that takes awareness, practice, and diligence. But over time, you’ll get better and more confident, and you’ll develop trustworthy instincts.

Thumbnail Photo: @sergiferrete via Unsplash

Difficult Conversations

I once read that our success in life is directly proportional to the number of uncomfortable conversations we are willing to have. Like most rules of thumb, that’s probably oversimplified, but it is also largely true. And we all know it.

As we’ve engaged with organizations across the country, this topic has come up over and over again. It seems that we all need to be better about initiating and navigating difficult conversations. It’s just that they are so damn, well, difficult.

Over the past several weeks, we’ve developed a framework to help our clients be more comfortable and effective in difficult conversations. The feedback has been great so far, and we’re stoked to see folks using it to be better at work.

However, the current state of affairs here in America has made it clear that we ALL need to be having more difficult conversations. We all need to lean into that discomfort, whether it be at home, in our communities, or at our place of work. So, we thought it appropriate to humbly share this framework, along with a 20-minute conversation in hopes of bringing people together, starting some conversations, and maybe even healing a few wounds.

- Blayne and Brandon

Five Steps to Successfully Navigating a Difficult Conversation:

1) Sooner is better. Bad news does not get better with time. Putting off a hard conversation not only creates more mission risk, but it also weighs you down unnecessarily. We don’t want to be rash or reactive, but once the emotions have subsided, go!

  2) Prepare, not for a joist, but for success. The goal is to reach a good outcome, together. Taking some time to prepare will allow you to stay on track when things get hard. You can use these questions. 

1. What is going on with him/her? Why might they be having a hard time?

2. What is going on with me? Why does this conversation feel difficult?

3. What is the goal of this conversation? What would a good outcome look like?

3) Be Candid. Clear is kind. Be direct, but approach the conversation from a place of caring. And don’t be afraid to acknowledge your role in whatever difficulty has arisen. If they can see that you’ve dropped your sword, they’re more likely to drop their shield.

 4) Listen. They may feel attacked or upset. Once you’ve been candid and direct, your job is to listen. Even if you don’t like 90% of what they’re saying, there will be valuable clues in there for you to follow - and it is incredibly important for people to just feel heard. 

5) Agree on a plan going forward. This step is critical and often overlooked. Take some time to lay out next steps toward your collective goal. What are you both agreeing to do? When will you check in on progress? What happens if we don’t make progress? Remember that empowerment is clear expectations plus accountability.

"All Lives Matter" is a Copout

I am not a racist. I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area in the 80’s and 90’s. White people were the minority in my high school. Asians and Indians were the majority, and I was a member of the Asian Community Association. My Godchildren are Guatemalan Americans, my niece and brother-in-law are Afghan Americans, and I am an Ashkenazi Jew, married to an Alaskan Native. That makes our children members of two people groups who have been driven to the brink of annihilation in North America, Europe, and Asia. But you would never know any of that. Because from the outside, I’m just another white dude. My ethnicity is hidden, and so are my opinions. Unless I choose to share them.

I no longer care to be just another white dude, silently condoning overt bigotry and violence by quietly condemning it from the comfort of my privilege.

“Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” - Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Though my ethnicity is hidden, a Black Person’s is not. It is not the same. What Black people experience in America is not the same. I know that I am treated differently now. If you get nothing else out of this, hold on to that one and ask yourself if you can relate. Opinions matter in the public arena and by not speaking out against injustice, I allow my thoughts to remain as hidden as my ethnicity, making me complicit in societal racism.  

Seven years ago when the Black Lives Matter movement started, I said, “yeah but all lives matter, right?” Right. So act like it, America. Black Lives Matter because they are the ones that are systemically, routinely, and persistently treated like they do not matter in America. We can say what we wish about honoring all lives, but our behaviors fail to align: systemically. 

All lives matter is a copout.

When riot after riot broke out in response to the killing of a black man (or woman), year after year, I said, “what good is burning, destroying, and looting our country going to do, right?” Right. Only it’s not “our country” as equitably defined in our social contract for all. We have skewed the terms of a society that African American Ancestors, frankly, didn’t seem to ask to be a part of in the first place. And thank God that we have Black Americans, but God help us to change a structure that is unjustly skewed against them. 

The Nation we live in today does not equally honor a black person as it does a white person. The cultural norms are not the same. Stop acting like they are. Today, after watching the George Floyd murder, the murder of Ahmaud Arbery, and the racism directed against Christian Cooper in Central Park, NY, I will stop pretending. Will you? 

Our society patronizes murder after murder, explaining it all away. 

“Well, what did he do?”

“But he resisted…”

“He shouldn’t have…”

“He should have…” 

Stop it. It is clearly a pattern. Stop acting like it isn’t. 

The pattern is unjust treatment of Black People. At the center is a persistent, systemic racial inequality exacerbated by a complete vacuum of authentic leadership from the very top. This is crushing us as a people. 

Typically, I reflect upon the world drawing from my own experiences. But I simply have no relevant experience to compare here. And that’s the point: I don’t understand. I don’t understand what it feels like to be treated differently because of the color of my skin and I never will. 

Photo Credit: Daniel Franco. I pray that we may learn to love one another like this. We are not enemies. We are brothers and sisters.

Let me also make clear that I don’t understand what it’s like to be a law enforcement officer, but that’s not relevant anyhow. This isn’t actually a conversation about policing up the law enforcement profession. It’s a conversation about policing up our racist culture that informs it. 

Many in the Law Enforcement community have condemned the murder of George Floyd as wrong; a complete departure of acceptable practices and procedures. Now back to the point. 

Our Nation burns with the pain and anger of centuries of systemic racism. Shaking our heads in silence complicity enables this evil to persist. The injustice is sickening, the actions are no longer unseeable as anything other than racism, and the racism must be extinguished. So let us take action. 

I won’t riot. I’ve experienced enough violence for a hundred lifetimes. Instead, I will love others (John 15) by speaking out against racism and advocating for change. By forging genuine relationships with Black Men and Women who I wish to better understand by knowing their stories, and by listening to their experiences. I will inform myself further in my graduate studies to be a part of the solution. And I will pray that the God of Creation, who created us all (black, white, and every other color and culture), will invade our hearts and burden us with a compassion for our Black Brothers and Sisters who are being unjustly treated. And that He will convict us all to reject passivity and stand up for what is right.  

It’s not perfect, but it’s a start. A beginning prompted by refusing to pretend like I have any relevant understanding of what it must feel like to be systematically oppressed. And a commitment to no longer be just another silent white dude, complicit in systemic racism. 

As I said in the beginning of this piece: I am not a racist. I am anti-racism. And I have a voice and I plan to use it.

What will you do?

- Brandon Young

Memorial Day: Remembering Our Fallen

I remember them, all of them. Every day. I don’t live for them, I could never do this justice. I cannot hold myself to any expectation worthy of their sacrifice because I could never earn what they willingly gave. Nobody can. Nobody ever could.

We cannot live for them. But we can live.

“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” John 15:13 ESV. These words, spoken millennia ago by Jesus of Nazareth are often echoed when we recall the memories of our fallen. When we recount their sacrifices. A powerful statement that projects what they gave, born of love in the purest. The part we routinely forget, though, is the preceding statement delivering the most powerful, actionable and clear sentiment in the very same scripture.

“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you” John 15:12.

I will not live for my fallen brothers, I will live with them. I will love others, as I have been loved. Give an empathetic ear to the hurting, walk with the lost, and care for those in need. As best I can in my limited capacity. 

This Memorial Day, I will not drown myself in alcohol, isolate myself from my family and my community or punish myself for not following them into eternity too soon. How could I remember them so? That is not the love they gave for me. Nor is it the love Jesus displayed in His often-quoted sentiment.

I could never forget them, they are my friends, they are my brothers.

Lou Olivera...I miss him so much. This one hurts deep. One winter Lou and I hiked Mount Falcon together weekly. We talked about Rangering, a little, but mostly we talked about life, our families, faith, hope, business, our community and brotherhood. We had so much in common. Difficult childhoods that propelled us into the Army. We both had daughters about the same age. We both worked to serve veterans in the nonprofit sector after successful business careers. We were both hard charging NCO’s in 2/75, though more than a decade apart. I went to war in Afghanistan, Lou went to war in Panama when I was 10. 

Every month Lou and our group of Ranger families would have dinner, go hiking, see concerts, go for runs, and do life together. It just hasn’t been the same without him. 

Lou Olivera, Founder of the Honor Bell Foundation.

On December 23, 1989 he jumpmastered a bird of Rangers into Rio Hato Drop Zone. Upon hitting the drop zone, he was mortally wounded. The enemy left him for dead, but Lou survived. Lou came home, recovered, contributed to the Army through NATIC Labs, went to Grad School, built businesses, founded The Honor Bell, but more importantly, he created a beautiful family. After fighting his demons since that night in Panama, Lou finally lost the battle and took his life in 2018. 

Sometimes only parts of us come back from war. Truth is, we lost Lou well before I ever got the chance to meet him. While I cannot imagine the pain he endured for nearly 30 years, I only attest that the parts that came home were worth a thousand great men. And that I will forever thank God that I was called “brother” by my hero. 

Dave McDowell and his Ranger Buddy, Jake, welcomed me, always. I came home to A Co. 2/75 from Ranger School 155 lbs. soaking wet in 1999. Before my week of rest and recovery, I was required to zero my M240B and qualify, so I met the C Co. maggots in the parking lot at dusk, ready to jump on the trucks and head out. Even though I was an “A Co. guy”, Dave welcomed me with that big smile and I rolled out with new brothers. Years later, he would meet me at the C Co. CQ desk and welcome me, again. I was a new Madslasher, the platoon he grew up in. Open arms, warmly embracing his brother.

He used to laugh, but he used to make us all laugh. When we were Pre-Ranger Cadre together out at Cole Range, he’d zip around on the quad, smiling. A mountain of a man with his little MICH helmet and Oakley’s, we likened him to a circus bear on a tricycle. When I committed to the Best Ranger Competition (BRC), he was there for us. Any range, any training, anything we needed to be successful, that’s the kind of man Dave was. He used to say, “I’m not doing Best Ranger, but you guys are and I’m going to do whatever it takes to help you be successful!” It was one of the best showing of any 75th Ranger Regiment BRC team, placing 1st, 3rd, 7th, 8th and 9th out of 15 finishing teams. I remember Dave. Man, how we laughed together.

Dave McDowell (green shirt) and Ranger Buddies post 2006 Best Ranger Competition.

Lance Vogeler was on that very same 2006 75th Ranger Regiment BRC team. He was so upset when he didn’t finish, having sustained an injury during training that forced him to withdraw from the road march. His laughter filled the vans during our months of train up. It never mattered that Lance didn’t finish that year. Lance had the courage to toe the line to begin with. His attempt was a success at its’ onset.

Jay Blessing was a talented artist. He went to Ranger School, as we all did, and found himself struggling in the Mountains, refusing to ever give up. He finally buckled and they discovered that he had been suffering from pneumonia and a collapsed lung. Back home at Ft. Lewis, Jay recovered slowly under the mentorship of Battalion legend and retired Marine, Mr. Ray Fuller, in the Battalion Arms Room. Jay was exceptional at the job. He soaked up every drop of knowledge he could gather from the Legendary Marine and kept the Battalion heavy guns operational.

Jay Blessing. Photo Credit 2/75 Ranger Regiment.

Jay would not accept defeat and returned to Ranger School, grinding through the suck to reach the “Ranger objective”. His body once again rejected the circumstances, but his resolve rejected failure. Jay limped into graduation with yet another case of pneumonia and lung complications and earned his tab. Mission Complete. He was on his way to the Special Forces Qualification Course when we got alerted for the Winter Strike of 2003. Committed to his brothers, Jay deployed becoming the first casualty of the 2nd Ranger Battalion in the Global War on Terror.

Casey Casavant was hysterical. The man with a smile and personality as large as the Big Sky of his home Montana was incapable of a straight face. He was full of belly laughs and cheer. You could always pick out Casey on an airfield or any other objective. He was the one with a 1-Liter bottle of Mountain Dew in his hand. He used to stuff at least two or three into his assault pack or ruck. When Casey and I attended the Primary Leadership Development Course (NCO Education System 1) with our Ranger Buddies, we felt like strangers in a strange land.

The cadre determined that the Rangers needed to allow our fellow “soon to be Sergeants” the opportunity to lead in the field, un-hindered by our experience or personalities. This was a good call. The solution was each of us “Batt. Boys” would serve as the Radio Telephone Operator (RTO) for every platoon in the field for the whole training exercise. This was a bad call. I cannot recall the specifics of the hilarity that ensued each night, but of one thing I am certain: the evenings full of Batt. Boy Radio hour, verbally thrashing each other and our fellow students and hitting pre-determined bump frequencies so as not to be detected by our instructors, was definitely Casey’s idea! I can hear him laughing from the other side of the Company bivouac now.

James Nehl (first on right, Yankees Jersey) and the men of the Blacksheep A Co. 2/75 Ranger, 1998.

James Nehl was another one of my heroes. When I arrived at the Blacksheep, he was the 1st Squad Leader and I was a Maggot under the leadership of his brother-in-law, Daryl. I was always at a slight distance, but James was quiet and strong; the kind of silent confidence that made you want to be better and win his respect. Growing up 3 squads down the hallways I always took notice to James because he was confident, intentional and innovative.

His squad always seemed to be doing something different, trying something new. In hindsight he struck me as a bit shy, but when he laughed, his smile would light up his face and quickly enlist the entire room in the joke. After becoming a young Ranger Leader, my M240B team was attached to James squad, “The Deer Hunters” and I couldn’t have been more elated. Being let into his circle was an honor. I forever wanted to make him proud.

Kris Domeij was one of the most confident young Rangers I had the pleasure to serve with. As his Squad Leader in charge of the maneuver section he was attached to at the beginning of the war he was always technically and tactically proficient. A Forward Observer to be counted on regardless of the circumstance, but more than this, one of the boys regardless of his youth in rank. You couldn’t dislike Kris, he was awesome. During our first deployment, I recall a long patrol in the Lwara Dasta, which left the section completely out of water and burning up in the heat of the desert. The conditions were so bad that one of our Rangers had to be extracted due to severe heat casualty.

Kris Domeij.

Kris would finish the mission. I looked over during a halt to see him finishing off the last drops of his saline I.V. bag. He looked over at me with that rueful smile and big cheeks and merely offered, “I was thirsty, Sergeant”.

“Domeij, you know you just basically downed a canteen of salt water, right?”

His shoulders shrugged off the matter. I shook my head and we moved on. Sometime later, Kris approached me and said, “Uh, can I have a sip of your water, Sergeant, my mouth is as dry as a salt lick!?” Later that mission in a hide site, Kris asked me if he could take off his boots to cool down his feet. “Charlie is doing it…” Our Air Force Enlisted Tactical Air Controller (ETAC). I always see Kris and Charlie in that site together, two larger than life personalities and a combined force to be reckoned with. Exceptional. So talented.

Josh Wheeler had another smile that could light up the darkness. We met during Advance Special Operations Training course held by the Battalion. All of the Squad Leaders from the Battalion rallied for two weeks during one of the most memorable and constructive training session I experienced in the Army. We were, essentially, unleashed in small teams of SSG’s across a myriad of missions. Josh was so humble, so curious. He didn’t care what company anyone was from, he only cared about being better. I admired him so much.

Brian Bradshaw was so similar. I met this young man as his Platoon Instructor during Infantry Basic Officer Leadership Course (IBOLC) at Ft. Benning in 2008. IBOLC is a 13-week cycle to prepare newly commissioned Lieutenants to serve as Platoon Leaders in the Army. Each of my 40-man platoon would leave at the end of our cycle, go to Ranger School and then immediately deploy to combat in Iraq or Afghanistan. I cannot imagine how this must have felt. Brian was sharp, quick and intelligent. He cracked me up with his silly throwback Oakley Razors that I was certain were created before even he was.

Brian Bradshaw (back row, fourth from left) and the men of IBOLC class 501-08.

My time with these young men was a capstone to my military service and one of the most special experiences I had in the Army. Amongst a platoon of focused, young leaders, Brian was always one of the platoon mates who would tarry the longest, ask the last questions, and gather the last pearls of wisdom from my training partner, Bryan Hart, and me. Only Brian would crack that last joke to cut the atmosphere. He would exhaust me with questions and I loved every minute of it. I just loved that guy.

Scott Dussing. Scott (and his Ranger buddy Shaun and C.J.) were the first Rangers from my squad who successfully completed Ranger School. Scott taught me so much about leadership. Regardless of how much the missions sucked, how hard the PT session was, or how bad he was hurting, his big Texas smile would never fade. Shortly after the towers fell on 9/11, A Co. 2/75 was sent to Jordan for a pre-planned annual training exercise. While we were there, we watched the war kick off with 3/75 jumping into Afghanistan at Objective Rhino. We were downtrodden, feeling like we’d been passed over and missed our chance (oh how little we knew then)! Scott kept smiling. We laughed so hard when he and Shaun got the AC generators going for the tent in the sweltering heat, taking the first blasts of cool air we’d felt in a months for themselves. They dropped to their knees in front of the AC tube and dropped trow, letting the cool air hit their junk while laughing hysterically.

I will always be so proud of you, Scott.

Love brings us back. Back to the start, back to today. The smiles we see in the dark. The little chuckles and moments we carry to the end. More names pour out in the silence for me: Damian Ficek, Jared Van Aalst, Steve Langmack, Ed Homeyer, Ricardo Barrazza. Men I served with and respected. These names, these people and the thousands of others that will not be lost on my heart.

Today is Memorial Day. A Day to remember and for those of us able, a day to live. Perhaps a day to hike with the family, visit with our neighbors, reconnect with old buddies and remember. Hopefully, we remember with a smile, but I respect that some may do so with the bitter sting of a loss on such a deeply personal level that Gold Star Mother, Scoti Domeij captures in “Dreading Memorial Day”. I simply cannot imagine the loss of a child or a spouse. I also respect that Memorial Day may hold a completely different kind of sting to those who bare the pain of such traumatic loss experienced before their very eyes. Memories of loss seen under violent circumstances.

My heart is with you. Truly. I hope you may know how loved you are by our God and your brothers and sisters. 

Wherever you are today, however you remember, please do not remember alone. Call a friend, call your family or a neighbor. Draw close to someone who loves you, please. If you feel the weight of your loss today in such a way that is so heavy, so profound that it chokes out the love that our brothers and sisters displayed in their sacrifice, please call one of the resources below.

Veterans Crisis Line: 1-800-273-8255 and Press 1

TAPS: 1-800-959-8277

“One for the Airborne Ranger in the Sky”

RLTW,

Brandon Young

This article originally appeared in the Havok Journal.

Re-Deployment

Things never go back to normal. There’s no such thing. We veterans know this all too well.

From the first moment of any deployment, we’re counting down the days until it’s over and we can all go home - back to our families, back to our favorite restaurants, back to our lives, back to normal. We know that we’ve got a job to do and that we need to stay focused, yet still, we can’t help but constantly daydream about the warm hug and cold beer that’s waiting on the other side. If we can just suck it up and get through this, everything is going to be awesome…unless it isn’t.

The problem is that re-deployment from combat is not just one big Budweiser commercial. Don’t get me wrong, it is wonderful to be reunited with friends and loved ones. It’s great to eat a delicious meal and sleep in your own bed, especially without the serious threat of it being interrupted by mortar fire. Still, re-deployment is tricky at best and brutal at worst. It’s full of pitfalls that you can’t or would prefer not to see. We believe that coming back from a forced, difficult situation will be great only to discover that it just isn’t that simple. What I personally failed to appreciate about re-deployment was that ‘normal’ was gone and it was never coming back. In ways that I hadn’t expected, things changed. I’d changed. My family had changed. The world had changed - and I just didn’t recognize how much. If I had to do it again I would do it so much differently. But with my military days far behind me, I assumed that most of those hard lessons learned would be filed away as regrets and probably never re-visited. This COVID-19 situation suddenly has me feeling differently.

Over the past two months, I’ve often joked with my veteran friends about how the quarantine has felt just like a deployment. We’ve been told where we can go, where we can’t, what we’re supposed to wear, and nobody’s quite sure who’s in charge. There’s danger in venturing ‘outside the wire’, an invisible enemy that we can’t pin down or directly confront. We’re stuck here for a while, happy to be alive and healthy, frustrated with all the uncertainty, and ready to just get it over with. The only big difference is that this time we’re ALL deployed; spouses, kids, civilians, everybody. And as little by little, the country starts to re-open and re-integrate, I think it’d be wise for all of us to think of it as a re-deployment. Businesses, communities, churches, gyms, and schools are all eventually going to return back to something that looks like, but isn’t quite normal - and before we do that, here are some things that you should seriously consider.

Same Conditions Do Not Equal the Same Experience: Ten people can be exposed to essentially the same circumstances and have ten completely different experiences. No two people will have had the same exact COVID-19 experience and this must be factored into your approach to re-deployment. Be careful about blanket policies or protocols. Some of your team will be eager to get back while others will have become quite comfortable working from home. Still others will be dealing with real challenges as a result of this crisis. If you’re a leader, you’re going to have to pay very close attention to your people and be willing to support them as individuals.

Re-Deployment is a Process, Not an Event: Just like in the military, we have to plan for a successful re-deployment. We won’t be able to flip a switch and be back up and running. Everything from administration and logistics to personal dynamics needs to be considered. Think hard about who comes back to the office first, which clients need immediate attention, and what might be able to wait a while. What are the phases of the operation and goals for each? Failing to plan is planning to fail.

Take Stock of What We’ve Learned: Deployments aren’t all bad. Far from it. Talk to almost any veteran and they’ll tell you about how much they enjoyed certain aspects of being ‘down range’. Maybe it was the heightened sense of purpose or the camaraderie or the simplicity. The same goes for COVID-19. As scary and somber as it’s often been, this certainly hasn’t been (and shouldn’t be) an entirely negative experience. How can we use this laboratory to identify ways to get better? We’ve been creative, flexible, and resilient during this difficult time. Don’t let that go to waste. Figure out what tactics and habits we need to keep and which ones we’ve learned to do without.

No Unspoken Expectations: This is big. Unspoken expectations are usually unmet, and given that we’ve all experienced this differently, we likely have different expectations of what life will be like after re-deployment. If you’re a leader, you’ve got to be transparent about how you see this re-deployment going. What is your vision of success? What are your top priorities? What are you most concerned about? You also need to be open to hearing this from others. If necessary, make it a mandatory exercise. I like to ask my team three simple questions:

1. What are you most proud of during your time in quarantine?

2. What are you most looking forward to?

3. What are you most concerned about?

Don’t Rush It: On so many levels, we are not going fully understand the impact of this crisis for quite a while. We just don’t know how our people, our customers, and are markets will be affected in the long run. I know things feel urgent. I absolutely encourage you to move with purpose and intention. However, I also encourage you to be patient and keenly aware to what’s going on around you. There will be plenty of warning signs and opportunities if you can manage to keep your eyes up and your mind open. As Brandon wrote in this great piece, we have a long walk ahead of us. The coming months will require leaders to demonstrate both grit and grace.

We appreciate that these are unprecedented and difficult times. We also know that there are better times ahead. The transition between will make all the difference. Thank you for your leadership and hard work to this point, and best of luck with your re-deployment. If we can be of any help, please let us know.

The Unknown Distance March

There’s a reason why the Rangers, the Green Berets, and many other Special Operations Units use unknown distance ruck marches to assess candidates during selection and build grit and resolve during training. The ruck is often called “the ultimate equalizer”. It can make a 250lbs linebacker fall by the wayside while a 140lbs teenager drives on. The ruck does not discriminate and it does not relent. 

But those who really know, know that the unknown distance march isn’t about the weight of the ruck or the number of miles covered.

It’s about the uncertainty – the ability to persevere through continuous hardship for however long it takes. It’s about learning to focus on the mission, not the moment. 

Ruck marching is a painful endeavor to begin with, even when you know how far you’re traveling. But walking an unknown distance at night over punishing terrain teaches you a lot about yourself and your teammates. 

The one penetrating thought that seeps into your mind amidst the strain and the pain is whether or not you will quit. Will you break when it gets hard, the finish line is nowhere in sight, and you just want it to end? Or will you find the strength to keep pushing, to lean on your teammates, and complete the mission? Sadly, it’s the ones who take a knee on the side of the road that never get back up and never see what’s at the top of the hill.

In 2006, I had the privilege of competing in the Best Ranger Competition and the unknown distance march put a microscope on my resolve and my reliance upon my teammate. Jeremiah Pittman and I stepped out, like the rest of the teams, at “0-Dark-Thirty” and I knew it was going to be a rough night. Seven years earlier, I had learned an important lesson about myself during the grueling 61 days of Ranger School. You can starve me, you can smoke me, you can load me down with weight and you can make me walk for days on end. But sleep deprivation is my weakness. 

The Best Ranger Competition is like an Ironman on steroids. It’s 60 miles in 60 continuous hours with no sleep, interlaced with common Ranger tasks and tactics like shooting, land navigation, parachuting, obstacle courses and other events to push the limits of endurance. The mission for every competitor standing in their two-man buddy teams at the starting line is simple: cross the finish line. Most do not accomplish their mission. The march started after the first 20 hours of non stop competition and I was exhausted. Though always a strong ruck marcher, a few miles in I was droning (falling asleep while walking) and hallucinating. We had no clue how long the event would last. The only instructions were go! Until you’re told to stop. Relying on my teammate, I kept putting one foot in front of the other as he nursed me with packets of electrolytes, sugary drink mixes, candy bars and encouragement. It was miserable and I just wanted to stop and go to sleep. But I didn’t. I wasn’t going to let my teammate down.  

The musky Georgia night lurched on one footfall at a time. Walk the uphills, run the downhills. Hope began to stir as we passed other teams of Rangers, giving them a thumbs up and a word of encouragement as they dropped behind us two by two. Jeremiah knew just how to awaken me fully, “hey, let’s start counting the bodies we pass and just run our race, B.” 1 Team…2…3…4…the teams would emerge on the horizon and fall behind us to the road. Jack and Jill. Up the hill. 

Eventually, the sky tore open and a southern storm erupted upon the pines and the asphalt. We dropped the hammer and ran most of the miles thereafter. When we finally emerged into a clearing and were told to get on the trucks, only two teams had made it in before us. We would go on to place 3rd in the competition, but I never would have seen the finish line without my Ranger Buddy.Those lessons stay with me today, as our country finds itself in the middle of an unknown distance march, stuck in social distance, taking it all one day at a time. I hope sharing these lessons will offer some perspective that will help you to take care of each other and see this thing through.

Some lessons from the under the ruck:

• The Mission > The Moment: no hardship lasts forever, keep going and remember why you started in the first place.

• Settle In and Temper Your Expectations: unknown means just that, stop trying to guess when it ends; setting your mind to mile 16 will shatter your spirits come mile 17.

• Look for Signs of Unsettling: they may sound a lot like, “hey, the team is asking me when you think this will end…” or “asking for a friend, but when do you think we can go back to normal?” Interpretation: I’ve had it and I want this to end. Now.

• Don’t Go It Alone: come alongside and encourage one another when it’s hard; you will get through this, together. 

• Tell the Truth: No one can read your mind, if you’re hurting, say you’re hurting so your team can solve the problem; hiding a personal weakness will become a team liability.

• Encourage, Don’t Complain: the very last thing we need is to hear one more person say, “this sucks”…we know! You can acknowledge the adversity, but don’t belabor it!  

• Never Leave a Fallen Comrade: a tactical halt to collect yourself is a lot different than quitting; leave no one behind.

• Finally - Never, Ever Quit! 

I know you want this to end, I do too, but it’s not going to as soon as you want it to. When it does, I don’t imagine life will look the same as when the quarantine began and I hope you are not the same, either. I hope you are taking every lesson this road is offering you.  So take a moment and ask, what are you learning about yourself in the midst of your unknown distance march and who are you leaning on? 

This article originally appeared in GORUCK. Please check them out!

Thumbnail photo credit: Colton Duke @csoref via Unsplash.

#STEMStrong (Part 3 of 3): When Things Fall Apart, Put Them Back...Together

Above: The Castillo Family, STEM School Cross Country, Veterans, and First Responders honored and remembered Kendrick Castillo on September 15, 2019 with The Colorado Run for the Fallen. Kendrick was the first civilian honored in this national memorial for fallen Service Members and First Responders. He remains in our hearts, forever. We will see him again.

This article appeared on Thrive Global. Please check them out.

11 days after the STEM Highlands Ranch School shooting, we hadn’t stopped since the event. Vigils, gatherings, prayer groups and conversations with other shocked parents were the new normal. 

May 18, 2019 Elliot and I were at Jaden’s School of Rock concert. As the band played, some feedback made a sharp crack. Elliot immediately went into a panic response and we had to exit the hall. We went outside calmly and sat down on the sidewalk, legs and arms crossed in the “Cook’s Technique” to activate our parasympathetic nervous systems. Breathing deeply, we calmed the body down and checked back into our surroundings.

Our hair danced along a breeze as rain drops join us about the concrete. Weeds swayed and popped along in patches amongst the concrete. We are safe, the mind can understand this fact, the nervous system, however, must catch up. 

This is the new normal. For now…

Jaden Young. Coolest drummer we know!

3 days later, we enter the house, our aging dog falls three times in the distance between the kennel and the sliding glass door, and then collapses as she attempts to potty in the grass. And it all falls apart…

“No! No! No! No! No!” Elliot’s shrieks of horror erupt as our family dog hits the grass. It’s all just too much. Her knees buckle as she buries her head in my chest. I hold her to the world around her as it spins and falls apart. 

“I’m not ready...I’m not ready.” She has never known a world without Ojo, one of our two family dogs--both suffering. One from old age, the other (Juno) from cancer. 

It’s all just too much. She sobs and shakes for some time and eventually, it spills out, “I just wanted to get through math class…”

“I just wanted to get through math and go home…”

I’m heartbroken. I am her dad and I just can’t protect her from this. I can’t save her. 

We thank God everyday for this day.

Our son, Jaden is a stoic young man. 6’1”, 155 pounds with crystal blue eyes that see everything; ears that hear everything. He is unassuming; shares very little but feels very deeply.

“I’m not doing so well, my mental state just isn’t right.“ I am shaken by his clarity of thought. He’s having nightmares now, and our hearts break. “I don’t feel right, and I know I don’t feel right… I just don’t know what to do about it. My head is all confused…“

The afternoon was nearly over when I realized that my chest has been tight all day long. Anxiety welled deep inside of me. I know this to be the effects of trauma, and I surrender. “Be still, and know that I am God“ Psalm 46:10

May 2020 - That was a year ago, and much has transpired since those early days after the STEM School Shooting. We have had a community of family and friends rally around us, our church family has held us up in prayer and fellowship, we committed to moving through this together with God at the center, and we all immediately sought clinical help to work through the effects of our respective traumas. 

I have received over 20 hours of EMDR therapy, thanks to The Marcus Institute for Brain Health and Headstrong, helping me untangle what came up in the wake of this event.

Today, the healing continues, imperfectly, but not alone. You can hear my children share their hearts on this matter in this five minute Mission Roll Call Be A Leader video. They held their heads high and after we filmed this together, Elli looked at me and said, “empowered...that’s how I feel knowing that our story may help someone.” 

Today, Elliot is a burgeoning young chef at Thunder Ridge Highschool, aiming to begin the Pro-Start Culinary program next fall, in her Sophomore year. Jaden is preparing to graduate from STEM School Highlands Ranch and launch off to college in the Fall.

He was accepted to Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University in Prescott, AZ for the Simulation Science, Games and Animation program. Though college was not in his plan for 2021 a year ago.

From those early moments last year to today, he has grown so much in such little time. Below, I share an excerpt from his college essay that speaks volumes about our cherished STEM School Highlands Ranch Community, the belonging these students feel, and how much I have learned about resilience from Jaden.

In the essay, he was asked to “tell Embry-Riddle about an accomplishment and how it affected his future goals”. He shares his thoughts below.

 Middle school for me started out with learning about myself. What I quickly realized was that I was a “Nerd” that enjoyed playing board games and doing intellectual stuff that people at public schools don’t appreciate. I never was the kind of person to enjoy sports or talk to every person on campus. I didn’t fit in, which made going into school everyday a struggle. I was getting bullied by anyone who remotely thought they were better than me…the constant stream of insults really shattered me, so my family and I decided to do something about it. 

After taking a tour of STEM they (my parents) decided the school was a perfect fit for me, but I was still the new kid on the block. I started to feel more like a STEM student after connecting with new people (through common interests and games) and making friends, but this wasn’t the only problem I had when moving to STEM. 

When I moved to STEM in 2016, I had little experience with computers... so I started learning how to use computers, type semi-fast, and use a computer to do work. Freshman year I took the intro to programming class and it was my favorite class and I was excited to go to it every day, so Sophomore year I took Game Design 1 and Game Design 2. This sparked my love for coding and set me on a path to pursue a career in coding, but I didn’t really know that then. This period of growth re-ignited my personality and allowed it to grow into the person I am today, a Senior who values friendship, logic, intellect, adaptability, and development. This problem pushed me to realize that I wanted to go into Game Design and Software engineering which follows me today and is what pushes me to go into these fields.

The thing that I love the most about games is their ability to bring people together, but all of my passion and resilience was tested last year on May 7th. On May 7th around 2:00, 2 armed students walked into STEM School Highlands Ranch and tried to murder their peers. These people changed the lives of many friends of mine and other students, but in a way, it changed me too. At the beginning of this year, I was determined that these events wouldn’t hold me back and keep me from what I wanted to do. Before the shooting I didn’t think I was going to college. In fact, I was scared, but after the shooting, I knew there wasn’t anything I couldn’t overcome. Then earlier this year, Embry-Riddle came to my school and I knew it would be the right place for me. I also had a GPA increase and I set a new personal record or PR in cross country because this experience made me determined to do better. 

On to the next hilltop, son. You will never walk alone. Godspeed!

February 2020 - Jaden is accepted as an incoming Freshman for the 2021 school year at Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University in Prescott, AZ.

My children remind me everyday that resilience awaits on the other side of hardship. That healing is a journey, not to be taken alone. That courage comes in more forms than we think of at face value. And that “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5). 

I pray you will remember these the next time things fall apart. 

Brandon

#STEMStrong (Part 2 of 3) Where We Are Today, But Not For Tomorrow

Above: May 12, 2019, our community gathered at sunset for a vigil and walk to honor our fallen hero, Kendrick Castillo. The vigil was planned and facilitated by another school in the area, Sky View Academy.

This article appeared on Thrive Global. Please check them out.

May 10, 2019. Three days after the shooting I just sat there. Numb. Watching the scenes around me unfold. My son walked around our church as white t-shirts with #STEMstrong on them are distributed by grade. A mourning community uniting to support one another. 

Signs are posted in front of the school, pictures of Kendrick, flowers, balloons and cards. And it is all familiar, yet starkly different. 

I remember the outpouring of American support when we returned from Afghanistan. I remember a hanger on McChord Air Force Base filled with signs of support, love, admiration and unity. I remember my beautiful wife standing there with tears in her eyes and our son in her arms. 

We made it back. Or made it out, depending on which way you see it.

We gathered and connected; it was beautiful. All those years ago we were beginning to process our trauma together. We have a bond that lasts a lifetime to this day. Trauma pulls you together with those who experience it in a special way. You never wanted to be a part of this club, but it is unique.

I am 13 years removed from my last rotation to Afghanistan, 6 years since being diagnosed with PTSD. Sitting in these community meetings, we watched these gatherings, watched our children laugh and connect and be children and my body shuddered with a mixture of joy and sorrow. 

2003 - Brandon, Kelly and their son, Jaden. McChord AFB (now JBLM). Charlie Co. 2nd Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment.

We can’t imagine what these kids are feeling right now, but as a dad who has experienced trauma, here are the conversations we have with our children:

• Every day, every moment, we will do our very best to meet you where you are. We are not perfect, but we love you and we are here in the journey together. 

• Everyone in this community is here with you, not for you. Don’t get it twisted. There is an army of people out there who are healing from trauma, the ones who get better understand this simple truth, the ones who don’t become entitled and never get out of this. 

• We are at the beginning of a lifelong journey. The way you feel today will not be the way that you feel years down the road unless you choose to stay in the pain of the past.

• We are here with you, we empathize with you, but we do not sympathize. What you experienced is wholly yours. It belongs to you and the others who experienced it with you. I have experienced extreme trauma, I have been to war four times, but it is not the same. I went to war to experience my trauma. You went to class. I respect that and I am so sorry that this is the world we have handed you.  

• I will share my story with you, and in doing so hope to build a bridge between our hearts. I have no other agenda than, “I love you”. We will not compare our traumas. My encouragement is that you do not compare yours with other students who were in the room, in the building or fellow students who were off-campus at that specific moment in the day. Everyone’s trauma is different and we all experience hurt on our own terms. 

• As parents, we were not in those rooms where bullets ripped through walls and reality. As children, you were not in the moments of terror praying to God for news that your children were not the next casualties. Let’s not hold these facts against one another. 

2006 - Brandon and his daughter, Elli, 75th Ranger Regiment

• This was not your fault, nobody deserves to experience horror like this and our hearts hurt that this happened.

• It’s okay that you feel bad, that you feel guilty that you did not get shot when your classmate right next to you did; that is normal. But it is not fair to you and it’s not your fault. 16 years ago a friend was killed in Afghanistan and I wasn’t. I felt horrible that it wasn’t me. I felt horrible that I wasn’t there for him or the rest of the guys that experienced that situation. Since then, I have lost 7 more men I called “brother”. While my sorrow still exists, my ownership over the desire to trade lives with them no longer does. 

• We do not choose who lives and who dies in traumatic situations, we cannot know; only God knows. The more you replay the situation, the more you look for answers to questions you cannot find, the more you will arrive at a place where you must surrender your false sense that you will understand this. Seek God, not answers to these questions. “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” Jeremiah 29:13

• You will not understand why because you cannot understand this. There is a darkness in this world, an evil that you have now experienced first hand. For that we are so sorry. “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” Proverbs 3:5

• You get to be angry, you get to be scared, you may feel unsafe and it’s okay. It’s okay to sleep with mom and me, or with the lights on again. Call for us in the middle of the night when you need to. Take some breaks when you have to. 

Finally, We are sorry we couldn't protect you from that evil. We cannot protect you from evil, but God can. God did. 

This is where we are now, but it will not be where we are forever.

Brandon

#STEMStrong (Part 1 of 3): The Morning After

This article appeared on Thrive Global. Please check them out!

The morning after the STEM Highlands Ranch shooting, our home began in a daze like many other homes in our suburban community. Our son was a Junior, our daughter in 8th grade at the time of the STEM School Shooting on May 7, 2019, that amongst other things, took the life of a brave, kind, and gentle young Kendrick Castillo. 

We are all reeling in disbelief that this happened to our community. Again. 

That this happened to us. 

We are shaken and as parents, Kelly and I are scared. 

Our stoic son is angry, rightly so. And we give him space. 

May 8, 2019 - The day after. Mission Hills Church responds with love, compassion, and support. Our church remained full of STEM families and the community all day.

Our daughter curls up on the couch and begins, “We were all huddled down against one another, scared and trying to get as low as possible. I was praying, holding one students hand and rubbing the back of another. Then, the bullets ripped through the wall in front of us and we could all feel it...like the energy of it. A pungent smell and something burning filled our noses and that’s when someone pointed in shock at a classmate, red ringing a hole on her clothing…”

Walking over to the couch, I sit next to my sweet baby girl. She is fourteen years old, the morning after the STEM Highlands Ranch shooting, much older today than any parent hopes for their child. 

Where do I begin?

Our family has been walking with war veterans and traumatized children for nearly 20 years, so we begin with all we can offer in moments such as these: love, empathy and vulnerability. Compassion. 

“My heart hurts for you, kiddo. I remember the first time I was shot at in Afghanistan.” I take her hand in mine and smile meekly. Her freckles highlight the tears welling up in her soft, brown eyes. “I remember rocks on the ground and being exposed, out in the open. We got so low it felt like I was trying to become a part of the rocks.”

“Yes!” Her eyes flash, “exactly! We were all squished together and I had students’ arms and legs all over me.”

She is talking; this is good. 

“I remember at first, the guys and I looked at each other and someone said, ‘I think we’re getting shot at?’” Bullets cracked overhead and we all agreed. “We’re getting shot at. Take cover!”

It was surreal. You recognize what’s happening and can see yourself in the moment. You know you’re supposed to be scared, but you don’t feel scared. You cannot allow this. There’s work to do, actions to take, people to protect. So you execute. Your training takes over and you do what you know is right in the moment. The emotions come later.

Later, you feel the fear. Later we feel everything. 

“Dad, that’s exactly what it felt like! We trained for this so many times and it was like...is this happening? This is happening!”

We cry together and hold her close. Kelly and I are angry. So angry. And saddened. 

Though we feel the aftermath of trauma together, it is not the same. I was trained to go to war. Hours, days, months, years, I trained with men who were prepared to experience savagery. Inhumanity. To harness and direct extreme brutality and control their fears. To strike first with speed, surprise and violence of action and when hit to hit back harder. So hard the enemy would never get back up. But our children should never be prepared for this. 

As Soldiers, we expect the aftermath of war may include the effects of experiencing trauma. As students, our children shouldn’t have to face the same prospect from going to class. 

I went to war to get PTSD, my children went to math class. 

2003 - Brandon and Rangers from 1st Platoon (Madslashers) Charlie Co. 2nd Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment. Nuristan Province, Afghanistan.

We live in a world now where our kids are the routine targets of mass murder, often times by their very peers. And they know it. 

It’s the knowing that hurts so much. My children will never be able to unknow what they now know. They will never be able to unsee the evil in this world because they have now experienced it up close and personal. Smells and sounds. Lights and noises. Blood and carbon. 

They will also never be able to unsee the light. 

“The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1:5

As bullets ripped through walls, flesh and the veneer of our affluent, suburban life, they also shredded the veil that separates us from the darkness in this world. 

The new reality for our children is one in which the world around us can go hidden no longer. But a choice emerges in that reality. Those who have lived through trauma must make a choice everyday: light or darkness, life or death, anguish or healing. For as the Apostle Paul reminds us, “what fellowship can light have with darkness?” 2 Corinthians 6:14 

None. 

We have all now experienced the darkness up close and personal in our home and it’s the very thing that keeps Kelly and me up at night. We all now must choose everyday to take another step on the healing journey, or remain in the muck of the pain. 

Kelly will have to choose to live in that dark moment as an ER Nurse, receiving casualties from our children's school, not knowing if one of our kids is on the next ambulance. Or the light of the evenings when she can walk down the hall and hear our kids breathing as they sleep. Our son will have to choose to live in the engineering lab, covered by machines and noise, or the moment when he saw his baby sister at the rally point after the shooting stopped and held her as she cried. 

I can choose to live in the rocks and dust of an Afghan Valley or walk in the light of a day where I get to hold my daughter and cry with her when she hurts. 

From here on out, she will have to choose to live in the darkness of classroom 106, huddled against a mesh of children and floor, praying to Jesus, or walk in the light of the rainy Colorado day that awaited when the shooting stopped. 

We choose life. 

Brandon

Chalk on the ground outside of STEM School Highlands Ranch

A Message From Your RIP Instructor

The heartbreaking truth is that I can’t save you. And you cannot save your brother or sister. We can speak up; we can walk with the voiceless. We can have the courage to be real, be seen and be heard. We can hear others without judgement. We can get help, trained professionals that can change the situation. And we are not alone.

This article first appeared in The Havok Journal. Please check them out.

After countless hours of freezing rain, bitter cold and the cut of the ruck on my shoulders it finally happened: I let go of my illusions that the situation would ever improve.

I embraced my indoctrination as an Airborne Ranger and entered into a brotherhood of shared sacrifice and violence on the fringe of American society. Many years later I peered at the formation of young Ranger hopefuls in the same field, under the same vicious sting of a Cole Range winter and smiled as the herd thinned itself naturally. “See the woodline? Touch it!”

We talk of Brotherhood all the time. Brotherhood is belonging. Brotherhood is family. Brotherhood is anytime, anywhere. So what can we learn when one of our family, one of our brothers takes his own life?

Surely, we must take stock and learn something. We talk about the depth of our bond forged of long nights and moments best forgotten, but are we hiding a shallow truth in plain sight from one another? Are we really being honest with each other? Are we truly sharing how we feel inside?

Sometimes I think not.

What are we so afraid of?

2003 - Charlie Co. 2/75 Ranger Regiment, Bagram, Afghanistan

I think shame is what we are all hiding in plain sight. Shame that we are not good enough, strong enough, “Ranger” enough. Shame to admit that we are not “ok.” That we are struggling with emotions that won’t stop swelling inside us and shame from our inability to silence our thoughts from the still of our comfortable homes (though we were capable of quelling them during the battle overseas).

We were taught to silence our emotions in order to execute in combat, to operate in a zero defect environment. We were taught to be indomitable, bulletproof, invincible: invulnerable. And here today, with all that training and experience, it’s just not working anymore. Today we have become unable to silence the storms inside, unable to stop the memories and we are ashamed of our inability to “suck it up and drive on.”

I know the struggle well, our indoctrination was precise and the approach was intentional.

As a former RIP Instructor (Ranger Indoctrination Program, now known as the Ranger Assessment and Selection Program/ RASP) and Pre-Ranger Instructor my role was specific and our approach was exact: create killers. Un-feeling, un-yielding destroyers capable of operating and leading under the most intense emotional and physical stress imaginable.

The physical part, that was easy. The emotional and mental parts, that was the trick. The culmination of our approach was numbness or compartmentalization: indifference.

Indifference was achieved when no matter how bad, no matter how much it hurt (how terrified or miserable) you executed with exact aggression on target. Precise violence of action.

Indifference was critical to your ability to perform on target. To be physically, emotionally and mentally willing to enter a building and clear a room knowing full well that on the other side awaits an enemy ready to kill you is not normal. Face this fact right now. To combat the terror of a life stepping into the breach, you have been conditioned to ignore your emotions. Taught to excuse the fear, the pit in your stomach, taught to harness the adrenaline coursing through your veins and focus all your being into acts of unprecedented and calculated violence.

2001 - Alpha Co. 2/75 Ranger Regiment. Jordan.

Here’s what we didn’t teach you: how to stop being indifferent. How to feel again.

How after embracing a culture of violence, there is on the other side a lifetime of peace, should you choose to accept it. A life of home. I fear this is killing us. Literally. Killing our families, our friendships, our coveted brotherhood and our communities as we kill ourselves. We bought into a necessary reality for the days when we stood in the breach, but today at home in America, we hang on to a lie: you must be indomitable, still.

Vulnerability is not weakness. While antithetical to your training as a war fighter, in life, vulnerability equates to strength.

Anger, fear, shame, uncertainty, pride, regret, joy and sadness. These are emotions. You are feeling again. This is normal. Welcome home. Now let’s get to work.

Let’s cut the crap. Start being honest with ourselves and with each other. Call that buddy of yours, but do it with a spirit of vulnerability. Author Brene Brown talks a great deal about vulnerability, citing shame as the major barrier for living “whole heartedly,” or with a spirit of vulnerability and openness.

I think we may be ashamed of our humanity and the emotions we wrestle with today: days, months and years after living a life of abandon. We stay in our “box” after service; wear our unit swag, grow our beards long, tattoo our units on our bodies (I certainly did) and generally live with an attitude appropriate to when our job required us to be strong in austere environments on the periphery of society.

Why do we still do this after service? Because we don’t know how to come home.

2018 - 20 years after sharing a barracks room in the Blacksheep, A Company 2/75 Ranger Regiment. Brothers to this day.

“We all pay for it. At some point, we will all pay the price.” I shared these words with my squad at “pool PT” (breakfast at Hawks Prairie restaurant) after we returned from Afghanistan our second time in 2003. Many of us were feeling uneasy around our community, out of place. Different.

Emotion is a human function. You can learn how to compartmentalize it, to ignore it, but it will not go away. From the most senior men in the formation to the lowest private, we are all people. All of us wrestle with emotions thought to be long forgotten. We have an insidious lie tearing into the fabric of our community. The façade, the lie, is that you have to be a stone-hard, emotionless killer to be “in.” I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted with it. If buying this lie every day is required to be “in,” then I’m out.

I think we hold onto “Ranger” more than we hold on to “brother” and I believe we are lying to ourselves if we think we aren’t afraid to be real and start talking about what’s really going on. I think we are scared to admit that we are hurting, that we don’t know how to fight what’s going on inside our hearts and our heads.

That we can’t figure out how to engage with our loved ones, that we can’t say “I’m sorry” or “I don’t know.” That if we admit it, we are weak and worthless. No longer worthy of our place within this brotherhood. I think we’ve become afraid to say, “help, please.”

“I don’t need help. I’m fine. Everyone else is wrong, nobody gets me and I will figure it out myself.” These and other lies we tell ourselves are the ones that are killing us.

Tell the truth, brothers.

I am angry much of the time. I burn my kids to the ground with my words. I hold myself and others to unattainable standards. I bury myself in work because I can control it. I avoid my life because it’s unpredictable, messy. I can’t recall the last night I slept through, the last day I didn’t feel the world on my chest or the pain from all the people I’ve hurt and how much I enjoyed it. I hate that I miss the rush.

I miss feeling the flow of being on the OBJ. I miss the unspoken link with the men to my left and right on target. I miss the power to end another’s life.

Video created by MHS Productions and respectfully shared by the author.

I am terrified that I will lose my wife and my children because I can’t get my act together and I have contemplated suicide when I have fallen into the darkness of a life owning the night.

There are good days and bad days, that’s life. But I have experienced many more good than bad since I walked into the V.A. and spoke those words of truth for the first time out loud.

You are not alone.

Suffering and suicide are not uniquely veteran phenomena, much like compartmentalization and conditioning are not uniquely “Ranger.” Mental health and suicide is a wholly human epidemic in America today (rising 24% from 1999 through 2014).

I write this message with a spirit of hope. If one sentence resonates with you, I hope you take action. Have a real conversation today, be honest and be prepared to be “seen”. Also, know the five signs of someone in emotional pain, seek out and attend a safeTALK training in your area to learn how to be more suicide alert and how to take action. Get out of your house and engage with your brothers, with others in your community. If needed, here are a list of resources that can help:

The Marcus Institute for Brain Health

Headstrong

The Gallant Few

The Darby Project

U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs Mental Health Resources

2018 - Gap of Dunloe, Ireland. The moment we heard the news. No amount of beauty that surrounded could take the sorrow from our hearts. We all lost a family member that day.

Four closing thoughts: First, I wrote this article a few years ago, after a Ranger in our community suicided. Since that day, a dear brother took his own life. The loss has inextricably altered my life and the lives within my community. I cannot underscore the pain and sorrow we feel without this man in our lives. I love him dearly. Second, in a world of cultural relativity, here is an absolute truth: if you think suicide will make things better, you are absolutely wrong. Sit with those left behind and you’ll know this. Third, please, I beg you, if you are contemplating suicide, tell someone and get help. You are not alone. Finally, Jesus pulled me out of my sorrow, I pray you pull out of yours. You are so loved.

You are so loved.

-Brandon

7 Healthy Responses to "Hitting the Wall"

Here we are still. COVID is still a thing, social unrest hasn’t gone away, school is back in session, summer is over, and there seems to be no end in sight. Across client engagements, in personal relationships, and even checking out at the grocery store, it feels like that weight is still upon us all. It feels like we are hitting the wall(s).

Psychologically, hitting the wall feels a lot like a wet blanket on the soul, or like running in mud. Sometimes it feels like you just can’t will your brain to work right even though you know what you have to do.

Everyone experiences this. Being around the same people, in the same place, with what feels like a no win situation for a long time can lead to feelings of helplessness. 

Photo Credit Jonathan Rados via Unsplash

What happens next is personality driven. Some get depressed and shut down, others get anxious and cry. Some people emotionally withdraw and seethe with anger. There are so many ways we express this as people, but when we hit the wall, we have to take action.

A few thoughts for when you hit the wall:

• Stop: Before you say anything, don’t. Frankly, try your hardest to just be nice; if you can’t do that, then walk away. 

• Breathe: Take a few minutes with some intentional belly breathing. Take it all in, filling the bottom of your lungs first, then exhale. The ability to activate your parasympathetic nervous system will begin to engage your sympathetic and let your body know that you neither need to fight, nor flee.

• Refocus: What are you mentally fixating on in the moment and how is it helping bring you down from your frustration? If it’s not, you need to refocus on something else. 

• Reassure: You’re not the only one who’s stressed out. Everyone is cooped up. Everyone has lost their sense of normalcy. Reassuring others that you are feeling upset while reassuring them of your care for them makes a difference.

• Get Some Space: Go outside, go into another room, get some distance. If you tend to withdraw when things get tense, perhaps let your partner or your children know that you are upset and you need a moment, but will return and resume the relationship.

• Physical Activity: Get some bilateral stimulation to help your brain to process what you’re thinking and your body to regulate what you’re feeling. Are you getting stronger right now or are you getting weaker? Choose stronger. 

• Acupressure: if you’re really fired up, take a few minutes to activate some acupressure releases. You can learn a bit about some of the techniques at the University of Colorado supported Individualized Training and Education in Acupressure site via our friends at The Marcus Institute for Brain Health.

Here are a few activities you can use to channel your frustration: prayer, journaling, yoga, art, walking, singing, reading, meditation, the list goes on. Find what works best for you and do it consistently. Also, use the technique as a preventative measure to keep you from loosing your cool. 

Photo Credit Nathan Dumleo via Unsplash

You’re not crazy, and you’re not a terrible person. You’re a human being experiencing a difficult situation. Everyone hits the wall from time to time, especially when nothing is the way it should be. If you have already blown through your opportunity to just be nice when you’ve hit the wall, and you are in the process of recovering, here’s a word of advice: apologize and ask for forgiveness. 

Keep short accounts with your loved ones or fellow quarantiners (as a general rule) and especially in this time because they’ll still be there with you tomorrow. 

Finally, settle in, this is not going to change anytime soon. You have to wrap your head around this reality. The reason marathoners call it hitting the wall is because they experience this phenomenon every marathon. It feels like you can’t take another step, or another moment. But you can. And that’s the reason marathoners have stacks of medals hanging on their walls. 

You can take far more than you think. Remember that the next time you hit the wall. 

Thumbnail photo credit Andre Hunter via Unsplash.

A Crisis is a Terrible Thing to Waste

This blog was originally shared by our friends at GORUCK. Please go check them out! You can view the original version here.

This is not normal. It is also not a new normal. This is an interruption. And just like anytime our normal behavior is interrupted, we have an opportunity to wake up, snap out of our mindless patterns, appreciate what we have, and make a better plan for the future. So let’s go, friends. A crisis is a terrible thing to waste. 

I’ve heard a lot of talk about how this is an amazing chance to just Netflix and chill. That’s wrong. Don’t do that. Let the rest of the country get soft on Game of Thrones and Domino’s while you take this time to get your head right, your body healthy, and your house in order. When the “all-clear” is given and the world goes back to work, you’ll be strong and focused and ready. As Mark Rippetoe famously said, “Strong people are harder to kill, and more useful in general.” And make no mistake, there will be plenty of opportunity for you to be useful on the other side of COVID-19. Start preparing now. Here’s a framework that I think will help you.

Perspective and Gratitude

It is important to acknowledge that this situation has, and will continue to, cut us pretty deep. To some extent, we’ve all been hurt by COVID-19. Lost wages, social isolation, and anxiety about the future are all taking a toll. I get it. It is easy for us to focus on all of the things we’ve lost and all of the things that we can’t do. But that doesn’t have to be our focus. What if instead, we took some time to reflect on what we have and what we can do? Personally, I feel incredibly blessed to have a healthy family and the warm Florida sunshine. Sure, I’ve lost a few gigs and our anniversary trip is canceled – but I’ve been on more bike rides with my kids in the past two weeks than I did in the previous six months. At some point, this will pass. I’ll go back on the road, the kids will go back to school, and this unique opportunity will be gone. I’d hate to look back on it knowing that I squandered it. We have our health and we have each other. We can always make more money and take another trip. Trite, but true.     

Sharpen Your Axe

If you’re anything like me you have a to-do list that generally adds more check-boxes than it crosses off. It is hard to find the time to clean up the yard, organize the garage, straighten up the closet, or file the tax returns. I used to call these kinds of tasks “ankle-biters”, but now I call them “psychic weight”. They’re like a bunch of little 5lbs plates just weighing down my brain and preventing me from attacking life’s truly important work, and this COVID-19 situation just gave me a clear path to knock them out. Why sit on the couch and do nothing when you could be listening to a podcast and doing your spring cleaning? Why scroll through Instagram when you could be getting some fresh air while spreading some fresh mulch? I’m telling you, this window will close and you’ll go back on life’s treadmill. Get your house literally and figuratively in order while you can. When the whistle blows and the game resumes, you’ll be free from your psychic weight and ready to launch.

Keep Training

We all know that physical training is good for the body, mind, and spirit. And the last time I checked, push-ups were still free and readily available. So are burpees, squats, sit-ups, running, and of course rucking. If you’ve got a little bit of equipment, even better. With almost every gym on the planet offering some kind of virtual, at-home training program including GORUCK, there are limitless options to move your body and stay fit during COVID-19. If you can train with a family member or friend, that would be ideal. If you can’t, start a video chat and train together from a distance. Share your workouts. Challenge a buddy. Get creative. Just #KEEPTRAINING. 

A Helpful Exercise

Take five minutes each morning to pull out your notebook or journal and do this little exercise. It will absolutely help you to stay grateful, sharpen your axe, and keep training. 

Step 1: Get out of bed

Step 2: Drink 20oz of water

Step 3: Write down three things you’re grateful for. Big or small, just be grateful.

Step 4: Write down three things you’re going to do today. Get shit done.

Step 5: Write down your plan for today’s training. Fortune favors the prepared.

These are tough times, but you are tougher people. Take stock of what you’ve got. Be good to each other. Make a plan. Execute. I can’t wait to see you all at a GORUCK event soon. There will be high-fives. There will be hugs. There will be buddy-carries. I will be ready. And you will be too.

Embracing the Stockdale Paradox

At a time when so many of us are frustrated, disheartened, and uncertain about the future, I think we’d do well to take some advice from James Stockdale. Shot down over Vietnam in 1965, Stockdale spent eight years in the infamous Hanoi Hilton where he was repeatedly isolated, tortured, and starved. It is hard to image how anybody could survive that kind of suffering, much less emerge to thrive. But he did, and he has a relatively simple explanation of how - the Stockdale Paradox.

Popularized by famous business author Jim Collins, as a characteristic of great businesses, the Stockdale Paradox is essentially a combination of realism and resolve. You might call it hopeful pragmatism - the ability to face the brutal facts of your current reality while maintaining an unshakeable belief that you will prevail in the end. You can never lose hope, but you can never lose touch. And this is exactly what we need right now.

Pessimism is clearly not the answer. It never is. But, pure optimism isn’t either. In Stockdale’s own words:

“Oh, it’s easy. I can tell you who didn’t make it out. It was the optimists. They were the ones who always said, ‘We’re going to be out by Christmas.’ Christmas would come and it would go. And there would be another Christmas. And they died of a broken heart.”

This is an extremely difficult period for all of us and we can’t simply wish it away and convince ourselves that it’ll be over after the election, or after the holidays, or at any arbitrary point on the calendar. We have to face the challenges of 2020, and fight. And we have to do so knowing that we’ll figure it out and make it through. This isn’t paradoxical at all. It’s the way that tough people have been solving problems forever.

It is easy to feel like we have to fall into one of two camps (We’re Screwed OR We’re Fine), but we don’t. The truth is, we’re not screwed AND we’re not fine. We are in the middle of a bad situation. It hurts. And we don’t know when it will be over. But we will work our way out of it.

If the current moment has you feeling beat down, go easy on yourself, we are all going to have our low points. Maybe just keep Stockdale in mind. Shrink the world down a bit. Identify what is within your control. Acknowledge that times are hard, take it one day at a time, and keep moving forward.

Living Our Moment

This moment we live in is unprecedented, and yet, each moment we live always has been. Crises have a way of magnifying the fact that the way we live today matters, for each of us and for each other. 

In light of the COVID-19 Pandemic, the world waits for a way forward; some people in anticipation, all in uncertainty and many with great fear. Without question the current circumstance requires our attention, our discernment, and our careful response in leadership. 

People are scared. Some of us are navigating the waters of this pandemic with immune systems that are compromised, some of us are aging and fall within the highest risk categories of this virus. Others have reason to feel terror in the face of social isolation; perhaps they’ve already experienced enough. 

We all face new realities regardless of where we come from and today is our moment.

Through the generations we have seen people overcome extreme odds to create new realities for others. For example, we call them “The Greatest Generation” because they persevered through the Great Depression and World War II. And while this pandemic is nothing like either of those circumstances, this moment presents our opportunity to respond well. 

The question is not what will happen. We can only estimate. The question is what will you do? 

When we look back on this moment, no one will remember what events they missed, or parties that were cancelled. No one will recall the few church services they had to attend online or missing their favorite booth at the restaurant on date night. We will remember who provided calm, resilient leadership while others panicked. 

If we do this right, we will remember how we found one another, again, amidst a world drifted into loneliness. 

With an economic market plummeting and fluctuating, the two greatest commodities we can trade in today are hope and connection. In such moments of adversity, these may very well be the two greatest gifts we can give to one another. Make no mistake, they will cost you something. 

The cost of hope is disciplined thoughts and actions. We are all in the people business because we are all people. Organizations are the sum total of people and exist to serve...people! We settle into thought processes and philosophical paradigms influenced by our experiences and our hard wiring. You are who you are, fighting this is like trying to tie a rope in a tornado, but hope can be exercised and developed.

This situation is real, and real scary. Maybe not for you, but certainly for others in your sphere of influence. For the sake of our children, our spouses, our friends, our families and our teammates, take your thoughts captive when they fearfully run away from you. Be validated in the fact that what you are experiencing is real. Yet cinch your thought life down and walk with faithful resolve.

It is ok to admit that you’re scared, it is not ok to spread your fear to those counting on you. 

What we know today will change as rapidly as what we knew seven days ago. You cannot control that. You can control your response. A smile in the face of panic can do wonders to stabilize relationships. A calm word to our children can change their day while cooped up in the house. A bag of groceries on your elderly neighbor’s doorstep could save their life. 

Check your source of hope. Does it hold up to your present circumstances? Challenge that as you navigate these waters. Our greatest discoveries and growth are found at the edge of adversity. 

The cost of connection is your expectations on the way it should be. Ironically we live in an age of extreme social isolation to begin with. Sure, we all look perfect and connected on social media, but we all know it’s not real. We exist on digital islands, connected by a vast sea of social media and technological infrastructure. 

We need each other. We are made for relationships, for touch and face-to-face connection. While imperfect, in this moment we have the opportunity to build bridges across these islands and use social media and technology for their intended purposes: to connect us. Like no other time in history, we are uniquely prepared to shelter in place. 

Host a Google Hangout with your family, your coworkers, your community group or your friends and check in on each other. Is it perfect? No. Is it functional? Yes! Especially when we cannot hug one another or extend a warm handshake. The alternative to action is far worse than a few awkward moments on a call coaching your seventy year old mother on how to use Zoom (sorry mom)!  

Leaders, if we are unwilling to flex to the time in this way, we sacrifice progress for perfection and we will hit the wall. In this way, the cost is far greater than the way it should be. The cost is losing our people and today more than ever that is a cost we cannot bear. We need one another. One imperfect opportunity to connect is better than another moment slipped by in silence. 

Leave your expectations at the door you’re sheltered behind and open up the window to the world in your laptop. 

We will get through this, though we will sacrifice along the way. Many of us feel the pain now as we lay off staff, furlough teams or receive notifications that our job has just been eliminated. Our hearts are with you.  

Whatever unit of function you are leading right now, be that your family, your business, your team, yourself, and/or your community the very worst thing you can be right now is silent. Imperfect as it is, may we live our moment today in the face of great adversity by engaging in hopeful connection during this season in isolation. 

As for us, we’ll embrace and enjoy family time now especially in comparison to the typical busyness of un-quarantined life. May we all learn to find each other again, one game night, one video call, one puzzle, one bag of groceries and one bucket of popcorn and a movie at a time. 

Oh, and on that note, please relax on the toilet paper already! Peace. 

Meet Brandon Young

THANKS!

You could have spent five minutes anywhere. Thanks for spending it with me! 

I love people, that’s the first thing you should know about me, so you already know how I feel about you. I am a follower of Jesus, Kelly’s husband, Jaden and Elliot’s dad, a leader of people and a brother to more humans than I ever thought I’d be blessed to know.

Though we may be different, I know that far more connects us than divides us. I hope you know that too. 

Most people describe me as a passionate leader who lives faith forward with energy, candor, discipline, commitment and an unshakeable positivity. My mind routinely bounces between the creative, enthusiastic, action-oriented me and my drive for structure, order and achievement. It can be a bit exhausting at times. Kelly deserves a medal.

Like all of us, my childhood certainly shaped the man I’d become. I was raised by a single mother in the San Francisco Bay Area. The youngest of three, I learned much about grit, adversity and hard work from my mom. She worked four jobs to keep our family fed, housed and clothed. I developed a strong sense of justice in those formative years and learned to invest in the power of community and relationships, a theme that has carried me far in life. 

I joined the US Army at the age of 18, immediately after graduating high school. When Basic Training, Infantry School and Airborne school ended, I took a shot at the Ranger Indoctrination Program, and graduated earning the storied black beret (at the time, tan beret since 2001). It was an honor to walk amongst the elite of the 2nd Ranger Battalion and I felt belonging and purpose while honing my leadership skills at the tip of the spear. I remained in the 75th Ranger Regiment for nearly a decade, and leaving was very difficult for me. You can read more about that here. 

Though exiting the Rangers was hard, my family was worth fighting for, and we had a lot of healing to do after our difficult start.

Kelly and I married six days after the towers fell on 9-11, her mother died two days later of cancer and eight days later I deployed to the Middle East. Nine months later, I missed the birth of our son, Jaden during my first tour to Afghanistan. In total, I did 4 rotations to Afghanistan in support of Operation Enduring Freedom. I was present for my daughter, Elli’s birth in 2004 and it was the most amazing thing I have ever seen. I knew our situation had to change.

I departed the Army in 2009, hoping to create a better life for my family after our rocky start. 

I spent the next few years cutting my teeth in the healthcare sector, as a Territory Sales Manager for Quest Diagnostics. These transition years were particularly difficult for us. We didn’t know how to come home together and made so many mistakes along the way. In 2011, we relocated from Georgia to Colorado, a door that was opened by providence and a decision that Kelly and I made in five minutes. I spent the next four years honing my business acumen, inspiring and transforming our business unit into one of the most profitable in the country and navigating my team through a $7B restructure.

Candidly, I went into business to make money, but I discovered that leading people in the real world brought me to life, professionally, in a new and exciting way. I come most alive uniting diverse groups of people to solve really hard problems that create value for everyone.

For Kelly, Jaden, Elli and I, our lives were transformed when we came into a relationship with Jesus Christ in 2012. Though imperfect, life has come into focus one subsequent leap of faith at a time. Walking in my Christian Faith, it didn’t take long before I felt called elsewhere. Like so many other veterans struggling to reintegrate post military service, something was missing. I left corporate America in 2014 and became the first Director of Development for Team Red, White and Blue. The partnerships we built for America's veterans and the lives we enriched feed my soul to this day.

Leaving Team RWB was one more step closer to home. After 20 years of traveling, I accepted the role as Chief Advancement Officer for the Tennyson Center for Children, Colorado’s oldest and most respected non profit organizations delivering hope to abused, neglected and traumatized children. The assignment was a gift in so many ways; the children are inspiring world-changers and I came home for the first time in my life.

On December 22, 2018, Kelly and I reclaimed what was to have been our initial wedding date and our covenant, remarrying at Mission Hills Church with our children standing beside us and surrounded by our community.

At this stage, you should know that I love making people laugh and my heart beats to encourage others. One of my greatest accomplishments is making my wife and children laugh (mostly) whenever I try.  

All this brings us to today. Inspired by a call to people and the growing need in America, Blayne and I Co-Founded Applied Leadership Partners in 2020 and I continue to sharpen my leadership instincts pursuing a Masters of Divinity in Leadership (2023) at Denver Seminary. In all of these experiences, people, purpose, hope, resilience and faith remain my driving engine of success. 

Having been given the gift to serve and lead teams through change, growth and adversity, we hope to offer some of our wisdom exceeding difficult goals while never giving up or leaving a teammate behind. The world needs authentic servant leaders to solve big problems and we’d be happy to take a fresh look at the challenges you're traversing. If we can serve you, please let us know. 

Meet Blayne Smith

Nice to Meet You

Our experience in life really influences our perspective and how we tend to make sense of the world. To understand where a person stands, it is really helpful to understand where they come from. So, here’s a little background on me.

I was raised in Florida by a couple of great midwestern parents. My upbringing steeped me in some very useful ideals like, ‘take pride in your work’, ‘finish what you start’, and ‘live within your means’.  Whatever my childhood may have lacked in expansiveness or ambition, it more than made up for with love, safety, and unwavering support. As a result, I think most people would describe me as reliable, strategic, thoughtful, or maybe even prudent. I’m good with all of that, but have worked hard over the past several years to also cultivate the ability to be more bold and open.  

At 18, I went off to West Point with the goal of taking on a big challenge and setting myself up for a solid future. Graduating in June of 2001, I’d planned to complete my mandatory five years of active duty service, go find a ‘real job’, and get on with my life. It didn’t really work out that way. The next ten years were a blur, with some notable highlights including: marrying my college sweetheart, 9/11, Iraq, having a boy, becoming a Green Beret, Afghanistan, having another boy, leaving the Army, working in corporate America, and divorce. Some of it is captured brilliantly in this blog post that tells my personal story of combat, loss, the struggle to come home, and the ultimate path back to a good life. It is both heartbreaking and hopeful, and I think you’ll absolutely find it worth a few minutes of your time.

I began a new chapter of life in 2012 when I left my corporate job and accepted the role of Executive Director at Team Red, White, and Blue. Over the next five years, my days and weeks were filled with the thrill of growing a movement and the joy of serving my fellow veterans and their families.

Professionally, it is probably what I’m most proud of and will always be a huge part of my life. Personally, this period in my life was full of new and exciting (sometimes scary) experiences. Most importantly, I met and fell in love with Jeni - my amazing wife, partner, and mother of sweet Penelope.

Leaving Team RWB in 2017 was difficult, but it was only for an incredible opportunity to join my friend Jason, and an amazing business at GORUCK. While my tenure as President of the company was relatively short - which you can read all about in this piece I wrote about our family’s need to return home to Tampa - I remain involved as an advisor and continue to believe deeply in the ‘rucking revolution’.

In 2018, I started a small consulting practice providing strategy, leader development, and coaching services to organizations that are seeking to make a social impact. It’s been an awesome experience so far and I have loved working with so many impressive and interesting teams and leaders. Through the process, I have discovered that my true calling is to contribute to meaningful missions and invest in the people around me. My work allows me to do that everyday and I feel very fortunate to have found it. Joining forces with my brother, Brandon has only reinforced and expanded my desire to share my hard-earned perspective and grow servant leaders. If you or your organization are wrestling with a period of growth or change, we’d be very happy to lend a hand.