I sit here now in the process of trying to recover from the worst form of torture Mother Canada inflicts on each of her Children-At-Arms on an annual basis.
It's called the Canadian Forces Express Test. It's an annual test of one's physical fitness, and it's designed by the most sadistic demon-spawn imaginable. I am now convinced that it's primary goal is to make one aware of every muscle in one's body by ensuring that for the next 72 hours, each and every one of those muscles will be crying in agony for the torture you've inflicted upon them.
I can assure you that my ability to run 20 meters (roughly 60 ft), stop, turn around, run 20 meters more, and carry on for 10 minutes in this manner in no way indicates my ability to sit in a chair for six hours and tell planes what to do over a radio. I am just about 99% certain that there is next to no correlation between the two.
However, I am happy to report that I have passed that infernal measure of physical prowess and won't have to endure this torture for another year. If I'm really smart, I may actually start working out this year, and maybe next year life won't be so hard on me... though I doubt the chances of that happening.
On a much brighter note, though I had to wake up early yesterday to get confirmation, I am now finally able to control planes again! After a week straight of either being in great pain, or being unable to work due to lingering medication, I am finally able to go back to the job I've trained for.
What's more, I'm going to be lucky enough to be the Ground Controller on duty when whitewidow goes up with the Snowbirds. I'll be sure to wish her luck before they take off.
Hope everybody has a fantabulous day.
It's called the Canadian Forces Express Test. It's an annual test of one's physical fitness, and it's designed by the most sadistic demon-spawn imaginable. I am now convinced that it's primary goal is to make one aware of every muscle in one's body by ensuring that for the next 72 hours, each and every one of those muscles will be crying in agony for the torture you've inflicted upon them.
I can assure you that my ability to run 20 meters (roughly 60 ft), stop, turn around, run 20 meters more, and carry on for 10 minutes in this manner in no way indicates my ability to sit in a chair for six hours and tell planes what to do over a radio. I am just about 99% certain that there is next to no correlation between the two.
However, I am happy to report that I have passed that infernal measure of physical prowess and won't have to endure this torture for another year. If I'm really smart, I may actually start working out this year, and maybe next year life won't be so hard on me... though I doubt the chances of that happening.
On a much brighter note, though I had to wake up early yesterday to get confirmation, I am now finally able to control planes again! After a week straight of either being in great pain, or being unable to work due to lingering medication, I am finally able to go back to the job I've trained for.
What's more, I'm going to be lucky enough to be the Ground Controller on duty when whitewidow goes up with the Snowbirds. I'll be sure to wish her luck before they take off.
Hope everybody has a fantabulous day.
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