Fat Colonel Casting Shade…an Army Colonel is casting shade because he cannot pass his physical fitness test and never conducts physical training with the other soldiers he leads. So much for leading by example!
The new physical training requirements are appalling. They only contribute to the American obesity plaguing our country and our inability to do anything about it … like exercise! Rather than keeping the standards the military has unfortunately lowered the standards or hung onto people that could double as sunshades.
The Tale of Fat Colonel Casting Shade: Leadership from the Sidelines
Colonel Raymond “Big Ray” Thompson was not what you’d call the poster child for Army physical fitness. He was the kind of officer who believed leadership was more about paperwork and PowerPoints than pull-ups and push-ups. With a gut that had clearly seen more donuts than deadlifts, Big Ray had somehow managed to climb the ranks, using his charm, political maneuvering, and an impressive ability to avoid all things remotely related to sweating.
It wasn’t that the soldiers under his command disliked him—he was actually pretty charismatic, in a “fun uncle at a barbecue” sort of way. But when it came to physical training, or PT as the Army called it, Big Ray was conspicuously absent. Always. Like, always. No one had seen him in a pair of running shoes in years. If the unit’s morning runs were the latest blockbuster movie, Colonel Thompson was the guy who always skipped the premiere and just waited for the spoiler reviews.
“Lead by Example” (In Theory)
The unit’s morning PT sessions were legendary. Soldiers would gather at the crack of dawn, ready to sweat through miles of running, push-up drills, and obstacle courses designed to break your spirit and your hamstrings. And while the troops were out there huffing and puffing, Colonel Thompson was… not. He always had a reason. “Paperwork,” “important phone calls,” “strategic briefings,” or—on more than one occasion—“a bad knee,” even though no one had ever seen him limp.
One morning, as the soldiers gathered for another grueling PT session, Sergeant First Class Miller couldn’t help but notice Big Ray standing off to the side, sipping a cup of coffee, watching with the same enthusiasm of someone observing a distant tennis match.
“You gonna join us today, sir?” Miller asked, wiping the sweat from his brow.
Big Ray chuckled, patting his not-so-flat stomach. “Nah, you boys don’t need me slowing you down. I’m here to, uh… supervise.”
Miller raised an eyebrow. “Supervise PT, sir?”
“Exactly,” Big Ray said, nodding. “Leadership is about delegation, Miller. Besides, I’ve got an important meeting after this.”
Miller glanced at Big Ray’s coffee, then at his belly. “A meeting with what, sir? Krispy Kreme?”
The troops snickered, but Big Ray wasn’t one to be rattled. He grinned and took another sip of his coffee, clearly unbothered. “Just remember, Miller: it’s not about how fast you run, it’s about how fast you think. And I’m out here thinking at Olympic speeds.”
The PT Test Showdown
The real trouble began when the dreaded Physical Fitness Test (or PT Test) loomed on the horizon. It was the biannual event where every soldier had to prove they were physically fit to serve. For most, it was a stressful but manageable challenge. For Big Ray, it was the kind of event that nightmares were made of.
In the days leading up to the PT test, Big Ray was unusually quiet, avoiding the topic like a soldier dodging KP duty. Everyone knew the Colonel’s running skills were about as strong as a toddler chasing after an ice cream truck. Rumor had it, he hadn’t passed a PT test since the Clinton administration.
The day of the test arrived, and the soldiers gathered nervously at the track. Big Ray stood off to the side, still sipping coffee, casting shade with his usual nonchalance. As the troops lined up for the two-mile run, Colonel Thompson sidled up next to Sergeant Miller.
“Alright, Miller,” Big Ray said, “you’re in charge of setting the pace. Make sure these boys keep up.”
Miller raised an eyebrow. “What about you, sir?”
Big Ray laughed. “I’ll be right behind you. Don’t worry.”
Miller smirked. “With all due respect, sir, that’s a big right behind.”
The Run of Shame (Or Lack Thereof)
As the whistle blew, the soldiers took off down the track, their feet pounding the pavement. Miller led the pack, as usual, but it didn’t take long to notice that Big Ray had, predictably, disappeared from sight.
“Where’s the Colonel?” one soldier asked between gasps.
“He’s probably already finished—finished his second donut,” another joked.
Meanwhile, back at the starting line, Big Ray was casually strolling along, making a show of “stretching.” He threw out a half-hearted calf stretch, took a few brisk steps, then leaned over to tie his shoe (a trick he’d perfected to make it look like he was about to start running). He cast a glance at the clock, then at his phone, and finally at his coffee cup.
Miller crossed the finish line, breathing hard but victorious, and immediately scanned the area for Big Ray. Unsurprisingly, the Colonel was nowhere near the end of the race.
“Guess he didn’t make it,” Miller muttered, grabbing a water bottle.
Just then, Big Ray strolled up to the finish line, still miraculously in possession of his coffee.
“Well done, men!” Big Ray called out, clapping his hands. “That’s the kind of effort I like to see.”
Miller couldn’t resist. “Sir, you do realize this was a timed event, right? Where were you?”
Big Ray chuckled and tapped his temple. “Remember what I said, Miller—thinking at Olympic speeds. You boys might have run fast, but I was out here solving problems.”
Miller shook his head, grinning. “What problem, sir? The only thing you solved was how to keep that coffee hot.”
Big Ray winked. “You got me there, Sergeant.”
The Promotion That Shocked No One
Despite his aversion to physical exertion, Big Ray had a talent for one thing: climbing the ranks. And so, it came as no surprise when, months later, the news broke that Colonel Thompson had been promoted.
As the soldiers gathered to say their goodbyes, Miller couldn’t help but shake his head in disbelief. “How does he do it?” he muttered to a fellow sergeant. “He can’t run, can barely do a push-up, and the only thing he leads is the breakfast line.”
“Yeah,” the sergeant replied, “but he’s a master at dodging things—especially PT.”
As Big Ray waved goodbye to the unit, coffee cup in hand and belly still leading the way, the soldiers couldn’t help but laugh. Because, in the end, Colonel Thompson had taught them one important lesson: you don’t need to run fast to get ahead. You just need to know how to throw some serious shade while holding a cup of coffee.
And for Big Ray, that was a skill that would take him far. Very far—preferably away from the next PT test.
The End
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