Cold Case In Ellyson

Part of police training, is, in fact, physical training. Dressed in dark blue sweats from head to tow, we would often run laps at night, high steps and all you would expect from a paramilitary organization. Nervous beyond words our first time outside, instructors barked out orders at us to run, jump and finally to do push ups. On the sandy hill we dropped to our knees and heeded the order. I noticed immediately that I was in a crop of sandspurs. Afraid to say a word, I pushed on through and did what was asked in some higher level of discomfort. Heck, for all I knew, the instructors knew the sandspurs were there, and they were testing my toughness and resolve. When we were finished, they must have noticed the look on my face, which I now could see was shared by my fellow students, or saw us trying to remove the tiny needles from our hands and knuckles. Whether or not they knew the sandspurs were there is irrelevant. What mattered was we pushed on through.