week 2 box 2

I spend countless hours of my time torturing myself for something that is supposed to be "fun". After school every day, I sprint down to a designated spot where 50 young men confine themselves in a ridiculously hot and vile smelling room. In that room we strap on amour constricting and heavy, preparing for battle. We then run a half mile in the blazing sun and bone chilling cold only to reach another torturous area. On this field of sparse rough grass and compacted dirt as hard as concrete, we punish our bodies. We are then forced to bash and beat upon our friends and peers. The Dictating figure is a short middle-aged man who is thirty pounds to heavy for his body. Any one of the strong males he condemns to this relentless anguish could easily end. We endure these harsh criticisms and commands so that once every Friday night for about twelve months in the fall, we can attempt to bring glory and honor to our community.