Narrative Essay
My heart was pounding so loud I was sure the fans in the stands heard it. A fire burned in my lungs and pain all through my throat. Exhaustion surrounded me as I strode back to the center of the mat trying ever so hard to look as the warrior, despite feeling at best, the squire. After four minutes and two rounds of voluntary hell, I was ready to head back out for a third and final bout with my opponent. If not to win, to at least preserve my own honor and save my team from giving up more points than necessary. The whistle screamed out and again in a blaze the battle was on!
I was in the beginning of my 2nd year of wrestling and was facing an opponent who outmatched me easily. He worked his combinations faster and better than I and shortly I found myself in the awkward position of having his arms pinning mine to my back in what is affectionately known as a ?Chicken-Wing?. He started to pry my arms and my back of course over to expose my back to the mat. I, however, am
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