'The more you sweat, the less you bleed'

Joining the ranks of the California Highway Patrol is a long, grueling road, consisting of more than 1,280 hours over 27 weeks of intense, military-style training and education.

More than one-fourth of all recruits quit before graduation day.

"The more you sweat, the less you bleed." said CHP Sgt. Marc Gomez. "That's one of our mottos."

Two dozen California reporters, including Tri-County Newspaper's Susan Meeker, traded their cameras, pens and notebooks for guns, crime scene tape and marching drills to receive a brief and brutal glimpse of a day in the life of a CHP cadet.

"I already had a deep respect for law enforcement officers in the trenches," Meeker said. "Now I have an appreciation of what it took for them to get there."

The CHP hosted the day-long "Media Boot Camp Day" at its academy in Sacramento on Wednesday.

The media event was, admittedly, a much lighter, trimmed down version of a real cadet's experience, but still made a strong impression on the relatively out-of-shape reporters.

"I am really sore, but it was definitely worth it," said Ashley Gebb of the Appeal-Democrat in Marysville.

CHP Officer John Waggoner of the Williams office couldn't help smiling while watching the reporters attempt to march in unison, run - or walk - through obstacle courses and workout under the intentionally harsh supervision of the academy's physical fitness instructors.

"It definitely takes me back to my own time at the academy," Waggoner said.

Waggoner, who graduated nearly 10 years ago, called academy life "an unforgettable experience."

"You build a huge camaraderie with other cadets that can last for the rest of your life," Waggoner said.

Like the real cadets, each reporter seemed to excel at different aspects of the training, but all agreed the experience was worthwhile.

"It was a lot of fun - hard - but still fun," said Audrey Asistio of Chico television's KHSL News. "I'd have to say that it was, by far, one of the very best stories I've ever covered."

Asistio referred to the cadet training as "impressive."

"And we only received about 1 percent of the training that real cadets go through," Asistio said.

Meeker said the grueling nature of the academy is probably a good thing — not only for cadets, but for California residents as well.

"I expected it to be hard. If it wasn't hard, anyone could do it," Meeker said. "When it comes to enforcing laws on California roadways, I'm not sure we want just anyone out there doing it."

Getting up this morning was a little harder than it was yesterday.

As I swung my legs over the side of the bed, I noticed my sore muscles, tender shins and aching feet haven't eased in the days since I visited the California Highway Patrol Academy for my seven-hour intensive Media Boot Camp experience.

When my alarm went off at 4 a.m. Wednesday, I didn't have the slightest trepidation about spending the day as a CHP cadet.

Other than being in Sacramento for roll call at 7 a.m., the day started off the way it normally does — with a cafe latte and arthritis medication.

I knew it was going to be hard. The local CHP public information officer told me my one-day opportunity to experience life as a real CHP cadet would involve vigorous physical and mental training.

I was warned.

I arrived in work-out clothes for a quick lesson on barking "No Sir" and "Yes Sir" on command.

I quickly learned how to march in tandem with the other cadets to an obscure sounding version of "left, right, left" and a few other ditties that actually keeps your mind off the distance you are marching.

But it only took a few minutes in the gym to realize I probably didn't think the whole thing through before I signed up. I mean, who does jumping jacks after high school?

It wasn't that I expected to sail through the experience without doing any calisthenics, but when did they stop letting girls put their knees on the floor to do push ups?

Fortunately, the CHP didn't give up on me. I was mentally pushed, prodded, yelled at and totally browbeaten to success.

Nobody, after all, wants to be called a quitter.

I managed a few push-ups and even more sit-ups and few other exercises, before falling back on the floor, arms out and legs askew. I consoled myself with the fact that I knew I wasn't a real cadet. I kept telling myself it wasn't a test I had to pass or fail, because, at the end of the day, I wasn't going to get the job.

At 52, I'm at an age when most CHP officers start thinking about retirement.

The drill sergeants, however, didn't seem to care that I was probably the oldest person there. Apparently, they weren't even born when there were different exercise rules for girls and boys.

Totally exhausted before 9 a.m., we then set off to the obstacle course - a zig-zag of metal mazes, hurdles and other implements of torture.

As my group set out for a run, I felt like a 12-year-old Quarter Horse in an endurance race for 3-year-old Thoroughbreds. I knew I was still good for a short sprint, but don't look for an old gal to gallop around the track.

I arrived at our destination, dead last, and feeling like I was the first person about to be voted off Survivor.

It was a sadist's playground.

But not wanting to be totally humiliated in front of my peers, I somehow managed to sail over a five-foot wall with nothing but determination — and Newton's laws of motion — to propel me.

After that, I felt 10-feet tall and bullet proof, and my day picked up from there.

I leaned how to take down an attacker and drive my way out of a 360-degree skid on flooded pavement.

I learned to administer a sobriety test, and got to fail the same test wearing "DUI goggles," a nifty set of glasses that give you the visual impairment of someone with a 1.0 blood alcohol level.

Thanks to computer simulation, I got to shoot a maniac with a machete and take out a psychopath with a gun.

I even had the pleasure of pairing up with San Francisco's Stanley Roberts, of "People behaving Badly," to investigate a mock car crash.

At the end of the day, I got out of the experience exactly what the CHP intended — a genuine appreciation and respect for the dedication, the hard work and the training it takes to become a member of one of the finest law enforcement agencies in the nation.

I also came away with the personal satisfaction for having done my best to endure what — in reality — was just a glimpse at what cadets go through for 27 weeks to become ready for the streets.

Could it have been a little more entertaining?

Perhaps.

Anyone up for a spirited 'beer-goggles' relay?

Contact Susan Meeker at 458-2121 or smeeker@tcnpress.com.