My track in Iraq.

As faithful runners we are all dedicated to our sport. We run in the heat and cold, and in the snow and rain. Road or track, on sidewalk or on the beach, almost no terrain or location is off limits for those of us who love to run. And there are occasions when we must improvise to fulfill "the mission." Running laps around a former Iraqi airstrip in northern Iraq is improvising at its best.

The year 2002 was a memorable year for my family and me. As an average runner 1 was blessed with the opportunity to run the Boston Marathon and Ironman Triathlon in Hawaii--these were the two most memorable athletic events of my life. Little did I know that in only a few short months my life would take a drastic turn. In January 2003 I was informed that I was scheduled to leave for the Persian Gulf to provide emergency medical treatment to our soldiers during the probable conflict with Iraq.

In addition to the obvious concern of leaving my family behind, I was upset about my inability to swim, bike and run in my new environment. Swimming and biking were definitely out of the question for the foreseeable future, and running during an armed conflict was a total unknown. All the long hours of training and conditioning would be lost to hours of long rides on the back of 5-ton trucks, assembling tents and caring for patients 10-12 hours every day. Two days before leaving home, I ran my favorite 14-mile trail knowing that it may be my last long run for several months. We flew out of Fort Bragg, North Carolina, on March 10, 2003.

[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]

The first eight weeks of war and the post-war humanitarian mission left little time or energy for running. I could feel my legs atrophying and resting heart rate rising. My spirits slowly faded as I realized that I would not be able to run for some time.

In early June 2003 we assembled our hospital near a former bombed-out military airstrip in northern Iraq. Daytime temperatures soared to over 130[degrees] while morning temperatures remained relatively cool, hovering in the mid-70's. The windy and dusty airfield was littered with bomb craters and airplane hangers that resembled Swiss cheese, but it housed an airstrip that was flat and protected from enemy fire. Although badly damaged, the taxiway and runway connected to form a loop almost three miles in length; four times a week, I woke at 0500 hours to run two laps around Saddam Hussein's former strategic airfield. Packs of anorexic, mangy dogs sneaked around broken-down trucks and MIG fighter jets, watching me with caution and curiosity as I moved through the quiet and desolate airfield.

Despite the horrific conditions, the run was always relaxing, therapeutic and good for my body. It took my mind off missing my family and helped me get through the long, hot days in the Iraqi desert. And sometimes other soldiers joined me on my Iraqi "track"--a Godforsaken slab of concrete and rubble that gave us the opportunity to escape our day-to-day reality and revel in the joy of running.

Dedicated to all the runners who have served proudly during Operation Iraqi Freedom.

AMAA member Dr. Fred Brennan is a family and sports medicine doctor in the United States Army Medical Corps. He arrived home safely in February 2004.

by LTC Fred Brennan, Jr., D.O.