Changing Plans

I had referenced in earlier posts that I was finally stepping up for a GORUCK Heavy.

I injured my knee on a training ruck, not bad but enough to know that I should back off training weight and volume and let it heal. Which means I had the choice of pushing it and showing up to the event injured, or letting it heal and showing up under-trained. Both would result in my being a liability to a team that needs me to be an asset.

So I did the only thing I felt I could do. I dropped out of the event and transferred to another Heavy at a later date.

While this is a disappointment, it also opens up some possibilities. My training had been very narrowly focused on the Heavy, causing me to neglect some other aspects of my fitness. It is entirely possible that this contributed to my injury. I’m taking this opportunity to fix that, noting what did and didn’t work from my training plans and adding back in things that I know I need but that I hadn’t taken time for.

I will be keeping a log of my training and post it every month or so for those interested, so stay tuned for that.

Adapt, overcome, and come back stronger.


Post script: I will not be posting the workout log. Keeping my own notes is one thing, but making it coherent enough to be understood by anyone else eats way too much training time.

Memorial Day Ruck: GRT 2300

A few days before this event, I came across something that would seem to fit as we all pushed through the event. The Alpha Gators, which is usually a very silly comic, posted this:


This sort of set the tone for me, and it came to mind often when I was under one of the weights.


My brain can go a bit fuzzy on long events (and this one went 14 hours), so this write-up will be some points that felt significant rather than a proper AAR.

Our team was moving with more coupons than I have ever seen carried at an event and 5 buckets of water. We couldn’t figure out quickly trading out people carrying, and the entire procession stopped every few minutes. Cadre Chuy stopped us and put our situation in perspective:

“You think the 50-60 pound sandbag you are carrying is heavy. Weighs a lot less than I do with all my gear. Think of carrying your buddy to the medivac point, wiping the sweat from your face and realizing you wiped his blood into your eyes. You feel your body start shaking, and you realize that it’s because his body is shaking, because he has lost so much blood that he is going hypothermic.

“Now are you going to keep feeling sorry for yourselves, or are you going to hurry the hell up and get to the HLZ?” You better believe we picked up the pace.

One of my biggest weaknesses at GORUCK events has always been that I don’t last as long under the weight before needing to pass it off to someone else. This time I had to keep pushing, because we had so many weights with various numbers of people carrying them that there was often no one to hand it off to.

For a movement just after daybreak, we were informed that we needed to keep a quick pace and stay in tight formation. I was paired with a young man doing his first event. When I handed off the sandbag to him, it caused a small gap in formation that we immediately picked up our pace to try to close. I could see he was pushing with everything he had, but could not catch up with the group in front of me.

“Hand it back.”

“No, no, I got it.”

“This is not a conversation, hand it back. You’re kicking butt out here, but I’ve been doing this a little longer.” It reminded me of earlier events where I couldn’t get past the “no I got it” to get someone to hand off their weight.

Our service action was cleaning the Vietnam Veterans Memorial so that it would look nice for Memorial Day visitors. While I had been aware of the escalation of the conflict over the years, it still struck me how suddenly the numbers of names listed under each year jumped from one to dozens to hundreds. It gave me a perspective that I had never really understood.


Rather than Cadre giving us our patches, we paired off and presented patches to each other, reinforcing that we were a team, YOU didn’t earn your patch, the person next to you earned it for you.

My wife and daughter were at the end point when we arrived. After we were patched I took a knee next to a tree because I needed to get the weight off of my feet, and I waved my wife over. She captured the moment in this photo:


then took the flag and helped me to the car.



Big Chief’s Third Baby Mamma Wants Mud Pies: GRT 2282 and GRL 1536


I was excited for this event, both because it would be my tenth GORUCK Tough and because of the effort that my fellow GRTs had put in to bring GORUCK and Cadre Rick back to South Dakota.

Shortly before the start time, I was asked to get the team into some sort of formation to make things easier when Cadre got there. Cadre appeared just as I was getting everyone’s attention, but still had me continue getting everyone assembled. The event started with the usual roll call and explanation from the Cadre of what to expect and what would be expected of us.

When we got to checking required gear, we were given 50 seconds to empty our rucks and any smaller bags that we might have in our rucks. We failed, were given pushups, 50 seconds to get everything back in the rucks. Fail again, flutter kicks, 45 seconds to unload everything. This cycle continued until we figured out just to cram everything in any way it would fit and then to help anyone around us who was not done yet. (This is causing me to greatly re-think how I pack, as all the effort I had put into waterproofing my gear was undone by the time we were through it, and throwing the water bladder in and out so many times had pushed the slide off just enough to make it leak. Having one dry bag for all my water-sensitive gear would have helped greatly.)

Cadre had announced during this process that this was not the welcome party, this is what we needed to get through to get to the welcome party. Team lead was assigned, and we moved out to a park where the actual welcome party started.


Pushups, bear crawls, flutter kicks, T bones. I started out with the team weight (a ruck filled with baby formula to be donated, since it was Mother’s day weekend) and got the two rucks tangled when transitioning between exercises. The person next to me got me untangled and took the extra ruck for the rest of the welcome party. The next step was buddy carries, 6 minutes to get across the park with everyone being carried one direction or the other.

We missed that time hack and lost one of the team who damaged his knee during the buddy carries. We then started a movement that Cadre referred to as “Pails of Pain.” No ruck straps, hand-carrying our rucks and carrying ten 5-gallon buckets of river water. This started off sucking as much as one would expect, but we soon got a good system established to switch out buckets among the team.


The next thing that sticks out in memory is the log. This log:


(The crew putting it back where we got it decided to use more advanced techniques after seeing us struggle moving it.) I have moved a lot of heavy and strange items in the events that I have done, but even I had a “holy crap” moment when I saw what we were being asked to move. We initially shoulder-carried it, but found that we couldn’t get people of the right height where we needed them and the weight was crushing the tall guys. Someone suggested carrying it by having two ranks holding hands underneath it, and while it still sucked a lot it made changing out people carrying a lot easier.

After a long slow trudge with the log, we were allowed to drop it and rest for a few minutes. The next movement was with only our normal gear, to give us a break between heavy carries. When we reached our objective at a local museum, we were divided into teams, and told that our next mission was to recover three Sandman bombs (400 pound sandbags) and that we would need to be on the lookout for anything that we could use to improvise a better way of carrying them. We found two old tires and tried rigging a way to roll the sandbags, but this didn’t pan out. We also scavenged two beat-up pieces of lumber that worked much better.18518320_10154894605503071_634897328041618094_o.jpg

The path we happened to be on lead past some of the team’s homes. They brought out wheelbarrows, and to our surprise Cadre let us use them.18422265_10154894604318071_4190413907761625724_o.jpg

When we reached the pickup point for the third bomb, we were given a change in plans:

“The contact who was supposed to take the bombs from us has been discovered by the enemy and killed. We found someone to diffuse one of them, but that cost us one wheelbarrow. We have to transport the other two and sink them in Lion’s Lake.”

We moved out with one bomb in the wheelbarrow and one carried on 2x6s. By this time we had gotten the system of rotating people under the load down and were able to shift out people on the fly, although we were getting tired and most of us looked like this when we rotated out:


We made it to the lake to find that we had to do 20 hydroburpees in order to dispose of the bombs. One of the new GRTs next to me (for whom it was obvious that this stopped being fun several miles ago) visibly wavered and muttered “Is this day ever going to get better?” As close as I could come to a pep talk was “We’re almost home. You can’t get through one of these without getting wet, and we’ve already come this far.”


Holy. Crap. That water was cold. Somewhere around the second burpee I gave up on counting and just kept pace with everyone else. Back to the shore, ruck up, back to the start point, and the Tough was done.


I hit a friend’s house for a quick shower and nap, then back for the Light. After the usual administration and welcome party, we were given the most interesting mission briefing I have ever heard:

“The Big Chief of the Watertown Revolutionary Forces (WRF) is at the old rec center. They have been oppressed by the Sioux Falls Militia.  He requires us to bring him a bathtub full of water from Lion’s Lake so that he can wash the oppression off of his children. Do you have any questions?”

Team leader: No.

Peanut gallery: So many questions, actually…

Me: How are we to transport this water?f93614ae-95c6-4e96-93eb-3eca15b1771f_1.dff1fdc0d2a8ecc9e203e815dcf9303e.jpeg

To all of our amazement, Cadre pulled a plastic kiddie pool out of his ruck and announced that this is what we were using to transport the bath water to Big Chief’s children.

Move out, reach the lake, honor the lake spirits by doing pushups in the water, fill up the pool and try to carry it away. While it may be stable on a solid surface, it was indescribably floppy trying to lift and carry it while it was full. We sprung a leak from the bottom dragging before we had gone 100 yards. Cadre produced a backup pool from his ruck. Part of the team filled the new one while the rest of us located the 2x6s that we had previously used to carry the sandbags. The boards under it made it at least possible to carry, but still very clumsy until a couple blocks later when some of our team scavenged a wooden pallet that we carried the pool on from then on.

At some point we spilled and it was determined that we did not have enough water to bathe Big Chief’s children. However, Big Chief is a big fan of mud pies, so if we bring him those he will still be happy with us. We added dirt to the pool to make a huge mud pie then continued movement.

“I just got a phone call from Big Chief’s second baby mamma. Things are hot there and enemy snipers have been reported in the area. Big Chief cannot wait there for much longer.” For the next stretch we had to locate traffic cones and call out “Sniper” before Cadre could call them out, or one of the team would be wounded and have to carry their ruck held overhead.

We got to the rec center having only taken one casualty, but missed the time hack by 10 seconds. Big Chief is gone, so we have to meet him at another location to deliver his mud pies. Since we failed to meet him here on time, we should show some respect for his culture to restore his trust in us. His culture likes mud pie war paint and sharing songs…

Still carrying this pool of mud pie, wearing mud war paint, we moved to an outdoor bar where we sang “God Bless the USA” to the confused bar patrons.

Cadre: I just got a phone call from Big Chief’s third baby mamma’s sister.

Peanut gallery: Now you’re just making stuff up…

Cadre: Big Chief is happy about the love we have shown his culture, but the heat is really on and he could not meet us here. He will meet us in the lot behind the fire department…

Mud pies back on the move, still on the lookout for orange cone snipers, get to the fire department.

Big Chief was arrested while we were on the way here.

Peanut gallery: Dammit.

But his son is here to accept our gift of the mud pies…

*Peanut gallery rejoices*

Now rest up for a few minutes, then we have to go break Big Chief out of the Barefoot Fitness Jail.

We made good time getting to Barefoot Fitness, then simulated pulling the bars out of the window with a prowler sled race.

Big Chief is injured, and we have to carry him to the extract point.

Okay, where is Big Chief?

He’s that 350# tire you are sitting on.

If anything, carrying a tractor tire is worse than carrying a log of similar weight. Heavy, clumsy, hard to fit more people under.

I had a little moment of victory right at the end. I have a habit of getting under the load for the last 100 yards, flagging and having to call someone else in for the last 50. This one I kept repeating “I can make it” until I reached the end.

Back in formation, receive our patches, thank Cadre Rick for coming back to SD, and the event was done.

This was my third or fourth T/L back-to-back, which I had always intended as a stepping stone toward a Heavy, whenever I felt like I could complete one. As of writing this, that Heavy is in 6 weeks.

Back to Basics: SD Enhanced CCW Class

I have been re-evaluating what types of events to pursue, what areas I want to grow in. H.W. McBride noted in A Rifleman Went to War that the two main requirements of a soldier were to march and to shoot. At this point I’ve pretty well proven I can march, so let’s look at improving shooting ability.

The obvious first step was to update my CCW permit to my new home state, and I found a class for the Enhanced permit that is recognized in surrounding states.

The class was provided by Rev-Tac Firearm Instruction out of Jackson NE. I chose them to tick the boxes needed to get my permit, and to check out their teaching style to see if I wanted to take additional classes. As it turns out they did a great job, and they have some interesting classes on the schedule, so look for other AARs to come.

The classroom portion was held in a conference room of a local hotel. They covered what are good/ bad options in pistols and holsters, where you can and can’t carry, basics of how firearms work, etc. While this type of information can easily become Death by Powerpoint, they interjected enough humor to keep it engaging and entertaining.

Quick break for lunch and we moved out to the range. We started with basic drawing from concealed, shooting stance, and reholstering. Instructors milled around the students correcting anything that they saw, and did a great job of explaining the context of why they recommended doing something a particular way. (For example, I was using a support-hand grip that worked fine on the Browning Hi Power that I was shooting, but that might result in my hand being too close to the muzzle if I did the same with a smaller gun. In the interest of building good habits, I adjusted to a grip that would work the same on any pistol.)

We then moved on to live fire, starting at very close range and moving back gradually. They put up targets with numbered dots, and gave us a particular dot to shoot at for each distance. We would realize later that we only needed to hit the cardboard silhouette that the target was attached to, but they specified the dots to encourage the “aim small miss small” mentality.

They saw that everyone was getting it, and decided that we were ready to shoot the qualification needed for our permits. Different numbers of rounds shot from different ranges out to 7 yards. Everyone passed, and I kept my target.


(Hole in the grey is from a staple holding up the target, all my shots were good.)

At this point the Iowa and Nebraska residents were done, but the South Dakotans had a little more shooting to do. Our instructor explained that state law requires a certain number of rounds fired, but does not specify what all of them are to be used for, so he uses the rounds left after qualification to give us some drills that would be good to practice. One hand shooting, weak hand shooting, using trigger reset for faster controllable fire. At the end of this we had met the legal requirements and got our paperwork to send in for our permits.

A quick note: I’m purposely mentioning but not explaining these concepts for a reason: Reading this blog does not qualify as training, and if any of this sounds interesting to you, you need to seek out a quality instructor and learn it from them, rather than trying to sort it out from reading it here.

The Burden of Reputation

A simple conversation about an upcoming event made me realize a few things.

“I told Brian you’d be there. He was like ‘Awesome! That dude’s a beast! He doesn’t look like it, but he can freaking haul!'”

My first response was to be happy that others feel I’m contributing to the team more than I sometimes think I am. (I do my best, but often get frustrated that even at my best I’m still far weaker and slower than I want to be.) After a few minutes something else hit me: this is a responsibility. Rather than just hoping that I’m not a drag on the team, my teammates are expecting me to be an asset.

This has caused a slightly different mindset in my training. Being more careful about avoiding and caring for injuries. Hitting training as hard as I can. As mundane as it sounds, making sure I get sleep. Understanding that others are depending on me to show up ready.

Working like hell to make sure I live up to the reputation I’ve earned.

Perseverance and Perspective: Bataan Memorial Death March 2017


I liked the idea of this event from the first time I heard of it: Marathon distance with 35 pounds on your back, through a military base in the middle of the desert, honoring some badass WWII vets, who will see you off at the start line.

It turns out that many of the marchers carry some form of food as their weight, and a local food bank sets up at the finish line to take donations. I found that 4 big cans of hominy in a Warhammer carries beautifully and weighs in at 38#.


The Bush’s logo being visible earned me the nickname “beans” while I was on the course. I also carried photos of my great uncles who were killed in WWII. (Neither of them were at Bataan, but it seemed appropriate to bring them along.)

We showed up to the starting corrals well before daylight. The opening ceremony was an experience that you need to see for yourself, as I lack the words to convey the feeling. Powerful to the point of making me tear up.

The first to move out on to the course were the Wounded Warriors, and seeing them move out, missing limbs but stepping up to cover the distance, helped put us in the frame of mind to ignore whatever petty pains came up and do what was required. They were followed by the military heavy group, then my group, the civilian heavy.

We went in a loop around the starting corrals, shook hands with the Death March survivors at the start line, and we were off. The first few miles were on paved streets around the post, then we turned off onto sandy dirt trails, walking through a haze of dust kicked up by the marchers ahead.

The first bathroom stop had long lines and I figured I would push on to the next one, then I broke out laughing as I turned the next corner and saw a wall of guys standing out in the bushes. Someone behind me commented, “The guys waiting back there must be first-timers… or just polite. One of the two.”

Water stations were every two or three miles, with oranges and bananas available about every other station. We had debated if we should carry a water bladder or depend entirely on water stations, and I decided to split the difference with 2 bottles in the ruck that I would top off at every station. This turned out to be a good idea, as one of the stations toward the end was out of water when I got there. (I passed the truck bringing in a new water buffalo about a half-mile later.)

I stopped every few miles to drop the ruck and stretch out my shoulders, and the first 5 miles or so went by easily. Then I realized the point I had overlooked in training for this: This year set a record for hottest temperatures for the march, and it is tough to train for New Mexico heat when you are training through a South Dakota winter. The heat got to me, my energy levels went down, and the suck arrived.


I happened to catch up with my teammates Carl and Schmitty at the 8-mile checkpoint. I stopped to sit for a few minutes and reapply sunscreen, and Schmitty asked if there was any way he could assist.

“No. I just need to suck it up and get it done.”

“I was going to say it more politely, but yeah, that’s the mindset you need.”

Shortly after this we moved back onto paved streets, which would have been nice if they were not going unrelentingly uphill. About this time the winners of the light division were passing us on their way back, so we cheered them on as we passed.

It turns out that the sunscreen I had brought was not up to the task, and people started pointing out that I was burning around mile 9. I reapplied mine, got heavier-duty stuff from the medical tents, and kept going. We left the road for more trails, deeper sand and more hills. When I hit the halfway marker I asked another marcher to get a picture of me ruck-flopped on the side of the trail. (The trails are sunken into the ground enough at places that they make a decent place to sit down, and the frame of my ruck propped me up.)


In the TV show The Selection, Roster #11 has a moment when he asks himself, “Why am I out here in the middle of the desert, dying? I think I’m losing my marbles…” I had that moment at mile 14. There was a hamburger stand there, which should have raised my spirits, but by that point hot food was the last thing I wanted. I wanted to quit there (and rumor has it that this was a popular spot for DNFs) but I remembered what this event is, what it is in honor of, and you want to quit because its a little hot out here? Perspective reset. Refill water, ruck up, back at it.

Things got a little easier, because there was a lot more downhill involved in the second half. Heat and sun continued to be a problem, as I think shows in the photo from the next checkpoint:


It was about this time that I checked in with one of the medical stations, as I was having trouble moving my arms. I noticed it when a volunteer offered me a tray of fruit, and I had to ask him to hold the tray lower. The diagnosis was simply that the muscle the ruck straps bear on is worn out. Only thing that would fix it is rest.

“So I just need to grunt it out for the next 10 miles?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Good luck!”

Push 2 miles, sit a minute. Push a mile, sit. Around mile 20-21 we hit the Sand Pits. Depending on who you ask, this is between 3/4 mile and 1.5 miles of ankle-deep sand. I had gaiters to keep it out of my shoes, but it still drained leg strength that was already mostly gone. I remember one marcher stopping in frustration, yelling “this is the pits! *laughter that sounds on the verge of losing one’s mind* The sand pits!” As I passed, I offered,”What’s that old saying, if you’re going through hell, keep going?” The other marcher smiled and got moving.

I reached an aide station that had music playing, and I found myself increasing my march tempo to match the music. Silly as it sounds, that raised my spirits a lot for the last few miles.

The end of the course is mentally taxing, as you think that the end is just around the corner, then you come around the corner and see another turn, and it just seems to take forever. I finally rounded the last turn, saw the end, and went into the fastest shuffle I could manage, with spectators cheering us on to the finish.


I find myself at a loss for words trying to describe this experience. Grueling. Brutal. Humbling. Alongside the most awesome people you can imagine. And having never been happier to put down your ruck.

In Defense of the Dirty Name

Dirty Name.jpg

Mud Run Guide recently posted an article titled “The Sternum Checker Needs to be Chucked,” laying out the case that this particular obstacle is too dangerous and needs to be eliminated from all races. The author made some valid arguments, but also made some that are so far wrong that I felt the need to respond. Each race handles obstacles a bit differently, and I admit that some are pushing the limits of safety, but this would be a call for adjusting the design of the obstacle, not eliminating it entirely.

I am only giving excerpts below, full article can be found here. Here is a list of points that need addressed.

The challenge is to get yourself over the second and higher of the two logs. This is usually done by running at it, stepping up onto the lower “launch-pad” log, and jumping at the upper log.

It is this way of attacking the obstacle that is causing the injuries. It is supposed to be a controlled jump from one log to the next. Note the instructions from the military field manual:


A brief exposé of the origin of this obstacle is in order. It was developed by some forgotten sadistic genius as part of the world of military boot camps. Note that this is not “bootcamp-style” group training, but actual, real, brutal military bootcamps. The goal here is not to get you all into shape and to have fun while getting fit. Nay-nay. The goal here is to break people before rebuilding them into perfect fighting men and women.

The author is misunderstanding so much here. Let me just say that the field manual lists a purpose for this obstacle that does not include breaking things. It is the rare soldier who can continue training with a broken clavicle or spine.

Sternum Checker is the only regularly used obstacle that I have come across that is designed to hurt you even if you do it right. The initial and obvious challenge is to absorb the impact against the log (failure = bruised or broken sternum, xiphoid, ribs, ruptured spleen, bruised liver, broken wrist, broken clavicle, broken jaw, lost teeth).

If you do it correctly, you might get a bruise. I get bruises from any wall taller than 6 feet, it’s part of the race. The injuries you are describing come from doing it wrong, going at it way too hard, or the obstacle being set up improperly. More on that last one a bit later.

Let’s compare and contrast likely fails on the Sternum Checker with the most likely fails on other common obstacles.

  • Fail the rope climb, and you slide down the rope. Maybe some rope burn, maybe a twisted ankle.
  • Fail a warped wall, and you slide back down. No likely issues.
  • Fail a Rig, and you tumble a couple of feet to the ground. No likely issues.
  • Fail the Irish Table and you swing back down to the ground, or maybe fall a foot. No likely issues.
  • Fail Dragon’s Back, and you slide or fall the steeply pitched ramp. Maybe you injure an ankle or wrist or knee if you miss your grip and tumble down.
  • Fail the Sternum Checker, and you could easily wind up out of the race or in the hospital or a wheelchair or in the ground.

If the racer fails correctly, most of these are true, but not everyone fails correctly. I have seen a few racers (including myself) lose grip and fall from the top of the rope. If your feet make the jump on the Dragon’s Back but your hands fail to find a grip, you are likely to hit the ground head-first (feet have support off the wall but the rest of the body does not.) If you fail the sternum checker correctly, you do a back breakfall, maybe have a bruise on your butt, and go about your day.

I will throw out here that there are several safety concerns with the way that particular races arrange this obstacle, most notably lack of padding underneath to help break the fall, and unpadded lower logs where you could fall back and hit your head on them. The solutions for this are either a) add padding as noted in the military instructions above, or b) make the first log high enough that racers will safely fall underneath it, as the photo at the top of this post has done. Some races have also tried to make it harder by making the dimensions of it much wider, which causes safety problems as well.

Now to the sexism argument:

The 1st sternum checker was far and away the biggest gender gap obstacle at the 2015 OCRWC. It is not unreasonable to extrapolate from this that failure rates among women at non-championship races with a lower average caliber of athlete would be even higher…65%, 75%, 80%+. The gender gap on SC1 sticks out like the proverbial sore thumb. There was much post-race discussion after OCRWC 2015 about SC1 being unfairly hard for shorter racers, which demographic stats will tell you are mostly women. Looking at these numbers, you can make the case that they had a case. Historically, the Platinum Rig is the big band-breaker at mandatory completion races. However, these women handled both Rigs significantly better than they did SC1. 

This is an upper-body strength obstacle that requires reach and thus favors taller competitors. There are always going to be obstacles that favor one body type over another. Many tall guys who rock the sternum checker have a devil of a time getting through spider-web type obstacles. You are never going to build an obstacle that is equally tough for everyone. There are men’s and women’s lanes at some obstacles already, why not this one?

There are many safer alternatives that offer similar physical challenges such as the Irish Table and its variants, without risk of serious injury If you want a mind-f&*k confidence obstacle, then something like Toughest’s Dragon’s Back fits the bill perfectly, again without the high risk of serious injury. Heck, even something as simple and harmless as a 10-15 foot jump into water would stop and balk many racers, with almost no risk of any remotely serious injury.

All of those offer pieces of the challenge but do not duplicate all of it, sort of like pushups, squats and jumping jacks are great, but they still are not quite burpees. The hardest part is the controlled jump off of a balancing position (rather than a stable surface like Irish Table or Dragon’s Back). This is what people are often trying to avoid when they try to hulk-smash their way through it (see “launch-pad log” method above), and if you try to hulk-smash anything you are going to get hurt (unless you are, in fact, the Hulk).

I call for all races that use this obstacle to make adjustments for safety that they should have been doing all along (that safety section of the field manual above has been there a LONG time), but it is a unique and challenging obstacle that deserves to be kept. More importantly, the most common comment I saw about this topic was “Never had a chance to do that obstacle, but would love to give it a shot.” There are a lot of racers out there that deserve to have this on their course.