We wake up at 6 a.m. every morning. If your group is lucky you lift weights, if not you run. This excercise is not a typical long-distance endurance run, but rather sadistic combinations of endurance and sprint running. One section, deceptively called the 'Buddy Carry,' involved running with a partner about my size. The instructor ran us down a long country road about three miles from camp. At his signal, I carried my partner on my back at as fast a pace I could muster. At the halfway mark we switched and he carried me. The indescribable pain that accompanied this operation almost broke me. But, of course, the "almost" is what the camp is all about. The run lasted an hour and a half. We showered, ate breakfast, and crawled back to our rooms to catch a nap before Technique Session. Technique Session is a two-hour "easy" practice that is as difficult as normal wrestling practice at most schools. After the first session I was convinced that I didn't want to see the "hard" practice. I was right. Hard practice is live wrestling for two hours. I have never been so tired as after a hard practice. But, it made the technique sessions seem really easy. I never got used to the hard practice. Every day panic would creep into my thoughts. "This is never going to end. I can't keep this up any longer." Invariably I survived the practice and staggered to shower and dinner, after which came the fourth session. This was almost a repeat of the morning session in difficulty but is preceded by a motivational talk, during which most of us practiced sleeping up. Days passed until finally, on the schedule board, in the section devoted to the Hard Practice drills, appear the words

RED FLAG DAY

Curious, how such innocuous words could inspire such terror. The rumors of Red Flag Day had been circulating throughout the camp since day two. When it finally arrived, dread filled every wrestler's heart. One hour and forty minutes of non-stop wrestling was assigned, with no breaks or instruction periods where a wrestler might catch his breath. If regular hard practice was difficult, this was surely impossible. But, we did it, most of us, and we did it twice. On the last day, before the end of the camp session we had another Red Flag Day; this one was two hours long. To graduate with honors a wrestler had to have 500 points. Everyone in camp started with 800 points, which could be lost through bad room checks, discipline problems, or not working hard enough during practice. Two minuses and one plus were awarded during every practice. I have never worked so hard for anything as the one plus I received in one practice during that hellish two weeks. The last excercise of the camp was a twelve-mile run. It was unbelievably easy, for we all knew that after the run IT WAS ALL OVER AND WE COULD GO HOME.

In spite of my sarcasm, it is probably obvious that the camp was one of the greatest experiences in my life. It taught me that there are very few limits to what achievement a person can attain. Having the coach yell, "Sprint dammit!" when all that you desperately desire to do is fall down and sleep right there not only conditions your body, it also disciplines your mind. This mental strength has enabled me to work harder at anything that I try. One cannot endure an experience like that camp and not be the better for it. I am no exception.