By Chris Black, SOWF Ambassador
In 1986, I stood at a crossroads, a young man full of ambition and energy, eager to prove myself, get out of the town and earn some money for college. That led me to an Army recruiter and the idea that I wanted to do the hard thing, the adventurous thing, and so I asked for the chance to tryout to be a US Army Ranger in the 75th Ranger Regiment.
I enlisted with a head full of ideals and some anxiety on whether I had what it takes to join the 75th. I quickly learned it wasn’t just about how much you could lift or how fast you could run, or ‘toughness.’ They were about resilience, perseverance, and a commitment to never quitting, no matter how hard. I wasn’t ready to learn that lesson, not yet.
During one of the pivotal physical tests in the Ranger Indoctrination Program (RIP), I hit a wall. Not a literal wall, but a mental one. I would love to tell those reading a crazy, funny reason on why I didn’t make it like, “I was attacked by a bear, or we hit a hornets nest” but the reality is I let myself down and I didn’t push myself hard enough to meet the standard that was required. The shame was immediate and overwhelming.
I was devastated – I still remember the shame and embarrassment I felt that day. My dream of becoming a Ranger was gone, and I was just another young soldier who couldn’t hack it.
But life has a funny way of teaching you the most valuable lessons when you’re at your lowest. For reasons I still can’t fully explain, I was given a second chance. The Army gave me another shot at RIP, a rare opportunity that not everyone gets. I will never forget being told I could recycle into the next RIP class. I was ecstatic! I had a new perspective and knew that chance didn’t come easy, and I knew it was my last.
I had two weeks before the next RIP Class would begin and found myself on ‘snowbird’ detail. On day one I was told I was going to mow all the grass at the old RIP compound on top of Cardiac Hill. After two hours of trying to start an old, rusty gas mower, the NCOIC told me to go to lunch and show up after for a new work assignment.
After lunch, the NCOIC walked out to the formation with a machete and said he still wanted me to cut the grass. Not wanting to quit, and after realizing he was serious, I found myself cutting grass with a machete. I was literally on my hands and knees, hacking away at the stubborn blades, sweat pouring down my face, my muscles sore from the repetitive motion. In those moments, the lessons that the Ranger Regiment was trying to teach me became clear. It wasn’t about glory, the accolades, or the feeling of invincibility. It was about humility, patience, and the willingness to do whatever it takes, no matter how menial the task.
Cutting grass with a machete isn’t glamorous. It’s tedious, exhausting, and seemingly pointless at times, but it taught me something I didn’t know I needed to learn – how to work hard without expecting recognition. It wasn’t the type of task that would make headlines or earn respect from my peers, but it was the type of work that builds character, resilience, and a true sense of duty.
It was during those long hours with that machete in my hand that I realized success doesn’t come from brute strength or sheer willpower alone. It comes from the willingness to grind, to take on the tasks that no one else wants, and to push forward even when you’re beaten down and exhausted. The machete and the grass taught me that success is often hidden in the mundane, and perseverance is forged in the quiet moments when no one is watching.
When I finally got my second chance, I attacked it with a renewed sense of purpose. I knew what it felt like to let myself down, and I knew what it felt like to get a second chance. That combination fueled me through the toughest moments of training. I didn’t just want to succeed; I needed to prove to myself that I had what it took to keep going when things got hard. And that’s what the Rangers are all about: pushing through, refusing to quit, and finding a way when there doesn’t seem to be one.
That second chance changed my life. It taught me that failure is not the end, but rather a part of the journey. More importantly, it showed me that success isn’t about never failing—it’s about what you do after you fail. Do you give up and walk away, or do you pick up the machete and keep cutting?
This lesson doesn’t just apply to the Ranger Regiment. It’s a universal truth about life. Everyone, at some point, faces a moment when they’re ready to give up, when the task in front of them feels insurmountable. It’s in those moments that the real test begins. Are you willing to humble yourself, to put in the hard work, and to keep going even when it feels like you’re not making progress?
Looking back on my experience waiting for that second shot at the Ranger Regiment was just as important as the training itself. It was in that wait—on my knees, sweating over a patch of grass—that I developed the resilience and determination that would carry me through my time in the Ranger Regiment, college, the 160th SOAR, and multiple deployments spanning a 30-year career in the Army. And while I didn’t know it at the time, those long hours with the machete were laying the foundation for everything I would go on to achieve.
The Special Operations Warrior Foundation (SOWF) embodies these same values. They understand that success isn’t a straight path and that sometimes life requires second chances. The foundation provides not just financial support but emotional and educational resources to the families of fallen Special Operations warriors and the children of all Medal of Honor recipients. Like the lessons I learned, SOWF believes that everyone deserves the opportunity to try again, to rise after they’ve been knocked down.
SOWF’s commitment to helping the children of Special Operations Warriors succeed in life reflects the same perseverance and resilience that’s required to make it in SOF. These families have already sacrificed so much, but through the work of SOWF, they’re given a second chance—a chance to overcome, to rebuild, and to thrive despite the hardships they’ve endured.
As I think about the mission of SOWF, I can’t help but connect it back to my own experience. Life will challenge you, break you, and push you to your limits, but if you’re willing to embrace those challenges, to put in the work, and to never quit, you will succeed. And sometimes, that success comes because someone—like the Army, like SOWF—believes in giving you a second chance.
At the end of the day, life isn’t about avoiding failure. It’s about how you respond to it. Sometimes, success is nothing more than picking up a machete and cutting grass—one determined stroke at a time.
