By Patrick Barry

(Exercising Your Mind) “You’re lying” said a woman at a party who
I’d never met before. She overheard my answer to a friend’s simple question of
“What’d you do today?”, and barged into the conversation after hearing me reply:
“The same as every Saturday…..weights, boxed, then ran the hills at noon not
far from here.”  I was lying because noon temperatures in the
area were 108 degrees, and according to my doubter “no one could run 6 miles in
those hills in that heat.”  I assured her
that I did, but she eventually exited the conversation, utterly unconvinced of
my veracity.

Looking back, I understand this interchange. Disbelief
occurred because she lacked a personal frame of reference. Because this doubter
could not or would not undertake such an endeavor herself, how possibly could
anyone else?  

Was this conversation just an example of mindset in which self-belief
is far below capability? What if we as individuals could invert this mindset?
What if capability far exceeded self-belief and we could do much more than we think
we’re capable of?  To find out, I embarked
on an endeavor the last weekend of September by attending Kokoro Camp (Kokoro
means “mind, body, spirit”). From Friday afternoon through Sunday evening on a
beach in Encinitas, CA, I voluntarily underwent a 50-hour crucible weekend at SEALFIT,
an academy founded by a former Navy SEAL to train military Special Operations
candidates. 

Exactly patterned after the renowned Navy SEAL Hellweek of
130 hours, Kokoro is a Hellweekend of just over two days. Constant physical and
psychological stress occurs from beginning to end, with one “evolution” right after
the other, and each with clear objectives: Bring you to your absolute physical
breaking point to see if you can mentally push beyond it, and inculcate that
individuals inevitably fail while only teams survive. The pace is relentless,
and while you are fed and hydrated throughout…often on the run…there is not one
single wink of sleep permitted.

Class 19

I was one of nine classmates ranging from 22-51 years old.  Geoff (28), Mitch (24), and Alexander (26)
were all on track for the Navy SEAL Program in Coronado, CA called BUD/S (Basic
Underwater Demolition/SEAL), while Scott (22) was training to apply soon.  Felix (24), a German Police Officer flew in
from Berlin to train in preparation to enter German Special Operations. The
remaining four were civilians in established careers, older, and attending for
reasons other than pursuing Special Operations careers. Mitch (38) was a
gym-owner and ex-collegiate wrestler from the Midwest. Steve, (40) was a
physical therapist, kinesiologist, and avid cross-fit athlete. Jim (51) the
oldest of the group, was a medical examiner and would end up opting out in the
first 6 hours. At 46, I ended up as the most senior person in Kokoro Class 19.

Friday- Day One: “Welcome to Kokoro”

Breakout, as it’s known, occurred Friday afternoon and was a
shocking, slap-in-the-face indoctrination to the weekend.  In formation on the facility’s concrete slab
nicknamed The Grinder, instructors (former Navy SEALs) conducted a grueling
two-hour workout involving push-ups, squats, duckwalks, flutter kicks, sit-ups,
burpees, drills with a 380 lb. log, sandbag lifts, and more….all while being
hosed down and verbally prodded about everything from our last names to reasons
for attendance.  Immediately after, we donned
30 lb. packs and ran 4 miles of hills, followed by stair intervals and an obstacle
course. After a quick water break, we were put through a workout called Murph: a
mile run, 100 pull-ups, 200 push-ups, 300 squats, then another mile run. This evolution
was timed, required wearing packs throughout, and had a limit of 60 minutes for
completion. Of the nine, two broke one hour while several others, including me,
missed it by 10 minutes or more. The floor was literally pooled with puddles of
sweat after this workout, after which we spent 30 minutes in a meal break
voraciously ingesting salad and pasta. Immediately following was a quick
classroom briefing on the Navy SEAL Creed and the poem Invictus
(“unconquerable” in Latin) and we were instructed to memorize both.

Saturday – Day Two
(Midnight to Dawn): “Get Wet and Sandy!”

In store for arguably the hardest series of evolutions and now
eight of us left, just past midnight we navigated the streets to the beach in
camouflage pants, white t-shirts, and military-spec boots with our familiar
log, 30 lb. packs and 6 lb. weapon-like cylinders, passing last-call saloon
revelers and house-parties blaring music. Once on the sand, we underwent several
hours of hard evolutions, the first being a 45 minute pull-up, push-up, squat
routine (wearing packs) on a lifeguard tower. Thereafter, we immediately
endured a dozen or so hypothermia sessions of laying lock-armed as a single
unit in shin-high surf in 58 degree water from 8 – 12 minutes per instance as
waves washed upon and over us. Instructors monitored us closely for hypothermia
onset, and would “warm” us with intermittent sand sprints, bear crawls on wet
sand, low-crawls up sand berms with somersaults back down, relay races carrying
each other, and walking in waist high surf – log hoisted on shoulders- while bracing
from inbound waves.  At any point in any
drill where we underperformed by being slow, individualistic, or for no reason
in particular, we heard the dreaded prompt of “get wet and sandy!”, at which
point we sprinted to the ocean, duck-dived the first wave for full submersion,
and sprinted back to formation, but only after dropping on dry beach, rolling
several times, and rubbing sand on our wet bodies to ensure that every inch from
front to back was covered so we resembled “sugar cookies”.  Between midnight and dawn, we did this well
over a dozen times. After devouring bagels and fruit while seated huddled
together for warmth on our wet log, now seven ragged “sugar cookies” in number,
we were back at the compound in early daylight hours…wet, exhausted, and cramped,
but for the most part, relatively intact.

Sunday – Day Three
(Evening to Dawn): “That Damn Mountain”

The final 24 hours of Kokoro Camp contained one signature
element like no other during the weekend. 
This evolution was unique in nature and length, requiring the class to ascend
3000 feet of elevation over 13 miles to a mountaintop with 30 lb. packs plus
weapon, then back down again. Given a strict time limit, we ate a meal on-the-go
while walking in formation, and rested for water breaks as little as possible.
Over eight hours later, we returned to the compound to be met by more of the
same: hills, stairs, beach running, sugar cookies, digging graves in dry sand
with bare hands, and eventually another two-hour “breakout” just like the first
, bookending the final evolution of Class 19 with a resounding exclamation
point.

Self-Revelation 101

Kokoro Camp at The SEALFIT Academy was exceptionally hard
and mentally and physically difficult beyond description. As a former Golden
Glove boxer, I thought I knew “hard” from 10-week training camps of daily 9
mile runs with 3 additional hours in the gym and ring and calorie deprivation to
make weight.  Kokoro was harder. Sleep
deprivation exponentially compounded the constant physical exertion, while
hypothermia evolutions measured the soul’s capacity to endure suffering. My
body was cramped, fatigued and basically at its physical limit by hour eight of
the weekend. Despite that I trained 22-26 hours per week for months in advance,
it seemed not to matter. What did matter were two things, and two things
only: teamwork and mindset.

On more than one occasion during camp, I contemplated
quitting. Each time, my teammates would have none of it. At one point on a
Saturday evolution nearly 24 hours into camp, I was physically taxed with vomiting,
cramping, dehydration, and fatigue that made it difficult to walk, let alone
run.  Simple acts like bending down to
tie boot laces were Herculean.  I spoke
directly to the team leader, a consummate team player, hard-as-iron 28 year-old
with unwavering resolve from Hawaii, who would report to BUD/S training a mere 9
days after our camp concluded. He cut me off in mid-sentence as I tried to
rationalize that quitting was beneficial to the team because it spared them extra
punishment of added runs when I failed to keep up. “No one quits on my team” he
said with a stern stare. “No one gets left behind. We all graduate on Sunday.
Don’t worry about us getting punished if you can’t keep up. You’re our teammate
and we’ll suffer for you. All this team asks of you is your heart.”  Physically broken and mentally teetering, I
fought back emotion, fortified my mindset in that very moment, and decided to
persevere.

And persevere from that point forward I did. Until I didn’t.
Despite having extreme difficulty walking, I somehow ascended the mountain hours
later, only to have self-doubt insidiously whisper once again in anticipation of
the unstable terrain in pitch black that would make for a dangerous descent
given my exhaustion level. Speaking privately to the team leader on a water
break, I broached quitting, and was immediately surrounded by teammates. “ I
can’t even bend down to tie my boot laces”. 
“Then I’ll tie them for you” said one. “I can’t even tear open this
packet to eat.”  “Then I’ll rip it open
and feed you” said another. “But I’m not sure I can make it down without
falling and breaking a leg.”  “Zen I vill
carry you” was the response in a German accent.

My laces got tied, I ate from the packet, fell multiple
times without breaking limbs, and no one carried me. I made it down the
mountain with and because of my teammates, and graduated several hours and evolutions
later with six of them. Looking back, I realize that a formidable combination
of teamwork and mindset got me there. Had I not been fortified by teammates in
times of self-doubt, and by many supporters who agreed to keep me in their
thoughts all weekend by sending positive energy from a distance, negativity would
have overrun my spirit and crushed my will to continue. The resolve and
strength resident within  me, that which was
present but at times temporarily suffocated by the feint yet powerful whispers
of I can’t, were drawn out by
teammates who believed in, supported, and uplifted me. When I found myself in a
mental hole, I received strength in knowing that dozens of supporters had
pledged to fuel my spirit from afar with thoughts of perseverance and
completion.  With this personal armada, I
overcame whispers of I can’t, arrived
at the realization that capability really does exceed belief, and manifested
exponential achievement in this crucible by committee.

The SEALFIT Kokoro Camp was difficult beyond both
imagination and compare, and yet I’m so privileged and thankful to have
completed it.  After all, how often does
one undergo an experience that allows you to discover who you are, who you’re
not, and to meet yourself along the way for what may well be the very first
time? I heard Mark Divine, former Navy SEAL Team 3 Commander, trainer/mentor to
thousands of Navy SEAL and Special Ops candidates, and founder of SEALFIT’s
Kokoro Camp once say that people are capable of twenty times more than they
think they are. I wondered how he quantified such an ostensibly abstract
statement. After enduring a long, sleepless weekend of over 50 consecutive hours
in September, I now realize through tangible, first-hand experience that he’s
dead-on right, and not just about athletes in extreme sports or warriors on the
battlefield, but about absolutely anyone who attempts to do absolutely
anything.

Patrick Barry is a corporate training software executive from Los Angeles, CA, is unlikely to ever go on a log ride at a water-themed amusement park for the rest of his life, and can be reached at p.barry@sbcglobal.net . His adventure was chronicled by NBC News: http://www.nbcsandiego.com/on-air/as-seen-on/Hell_Week_Boot_Camp_San_Diego-130847008.html and in this trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eb9SNXM6yDE

“When a man is pushed, tormented, defeated, he
has a chance to learn something.”

                                                                                                -Ralph
Waldo Emerson