It's already getting hot when the class runs into the weight room. Less than halfway through their morning physical-training regimen, sweat darkens the cadets' gray T-shirts. The future Santa Fe firefighters still have an hour to go before they get to sit down, and making it through the morning drilling of a training instructor is a mental challenge as much as a physical one.

On the treadmill, Faith Applewhite quietly hits a button that increases the speed of the machine. She locks her gaze on a point ahead and jogs faster.

Applewhite is a standout in her class for more than one reason. Sure, she's the only female cadet, but she's also one of the only new trainees to come to the department with a paramedic license in her wallet. At 24, she already has seven years of on-the-job experience under her belt.

"I'm so ready to get back in the field," she said during a break after she finished a written test before the allotted time. "I don't know how to not make this sound corny, but it's kind of an honor to be able to help people when they really need it."

Applewhite began volunteering with Santa Fe County's Hondo volunteers in 2000 and was soon one of the youngest people in New Mexico to earn an emergency medical technician basic license. She advocated for a change at the state Legislature that allowed teenagers under the age of 18 to test for the license, then did so right away — just before she turned 17.

She worked as a professional firefighter for Santa Fe County, Española Valley EMS and other services in the region, even flying home from college in Walla Walla, Wash., to pull 48-hour shifts in New Mexico while earning her bachelor's degree. Her new job with the city will be her first full-time gig, and she looks forward to its rewards.

"It's always nice when you can do something that provides definitive care on scene ... give a diabetic person some sugar or a heroin overdose some Narcan that completely turns them around and brings them back to life ... or a rescue call when you get someone out of a bad situation without being injured. Those are all good calls."

The cadet breaks into a smile easily to reveal tiny spaces between each of her teeth. That, coupled with giggles that frequently accompany her speech, gives her a measure of adolescent charm.

Her black boots angle toward each other, pigeon-toed, when she stands casually, but that posture vanishes as she leaps bolt-upright when one of the training officers comes through the door.

Cadets expect to graduate from the 18-week academy three weeks from now, at which point they join the ranks of the Fire Department on a probationary status. Many of them are there as a way to live out lifelong dreams; others are seeking an alternative career path than the one they first chose; for others it's both.

Take Michael-John Harcharik, another of the handful of Santa Fe natives in the class. Harcharik gave up on studying to be an engineer when he realized it was a desk job, then worked at the Santa Fe County jail. When asked how he ended up at the Fire Department, he gives a answer common among his colleagues.

"When I was a little kid, I liked firetrucks. I always wanted to be a fireman," he said, later calling it "the best job in the world."

The new world for cadets includes a barrage of acronyms, from the three letters that represent their blue latex gloves — BSI, for body substance isolation — to the six steps for performing a rapid analysis of a patient's situation, which spell SAMPLE.

Other skills they must learn include keeping patients calm and helping them and their families understand what is happening in a medical emergency.

Santa Fe's Fire Department goes well beyond its obvious charge of fighting and preventing fires. Like most places where public safety workers also serve as medical first responders, the department does more patient care than anything else. Last year, about 85 percent of calls were for emergency medical services.

Cadets who come from varied backgrounds — college athlete, stonemason, airplane-maker and personal trainer — have nicknames for each other such as Skelator, Precious, Babydoll, Grandpa and, for Applewhite, Tofu. Getting into the class is no small feat. About 350 people applied, and after a long written exam, physical-agility test and psychological exam, only 20 were admitted to the academy.

Applewhite practiced for her most daunting task — the initial physical test — by running up Atalaya Hill wearing a weight vest and repeatedly working on other skills such as hoisting hose.

Although the city's department does include six other female firefighters, men easily outnumber women. One sign that times might be changing is the city's recent approval of Barbara Salas to take over as fire chief when Chris Rivera retires later this summer.

"She'll be a role model," said Applewhite. "I think there are strong women in the city and in the county (fire departments) who are already role models, but having one in such a public position will probably be good for helping women feel like they can do it."

Once the cadet academy program begins, the new recruits work on specific firefighter skills, physical fitness and medical knowledge.

Engineer and training officer Freddy Martinez takes pride in the daily fitness plan he developed for the class to increase muscle stamina, used for the first time this year.

"Half of them couldn't do a real pull up when they got here and now they do 40," he said, stopwatch in hand as he monitored their workouts and barked orders. "It's good to see end product. You really see them jell and work as a team and become a group together."

Cadets, even those who are in excellent physical condition, agree the training is rigorous.

"You become numb to the pain is what happens. It doesn't get easier," said Tyler Jones, a former Los Alamos firefighter who also has a degree in nursing.

For some of the department's old-timers, including Assistant Chief Ted Bolleter, the cadet academy is quite a different experience now compared to when they came up.

"It hurts to watch them sometimes," said Bolleter as the cadets dropped in from a standing position into a push-up position for the 20th time in a row.

Now four firefighters work as training officers, including Battalion Chief Dave Huckabee and Capt. Greg Cliburn, who on a recent day took turns lecturing about patient communication in a classroom connected to Fire Station 4. Huckabee is leaving the department soon to teach emergency medicine at Santa Fe Community College.

"You will be influencing department policy," Cliburn told the students after a debate over the ethics of ambulance billing. "Someday one of you will be chief. One of you will be medical officer. You won't be rookies forever."

Contact Julie Ann Grimm at 986-3017 or jgrimm@sfnewmexican.com.