Gym Class

Note: This is written from the view point of someone who loathes gym class. I do not always loathe gym class.
Here are a few phrases that I dread hearing every Thursday, 6th period:
"HEADS UP!"
"Sorry about kicking that ball at your face, Abigail."
"Start running those laps, girls."
(These are only a few.)
Gym class is lovely, isn't it? I mean, what could be more fabulous than running around for fifty minutes kicking balls at each other?
Take shin guards, for example. Shin guards. Why would I want to put myself in a position to need to be guarded from pain? And dodgeball... DODGE. BALL. Just the word dodge makes me nervous. To dodge something means one must be in a position to be hit. Why would I want that? Why should I be forced into that?
I often compare games in gym class to warfare. You suit up in shorts and sneakers and armor yourselves with shin guards and mouth guards. You walk out onto the battlefield, weapon in hand. (And by weapon I mean hockey stick, or golf club, or tennis racket.) Your heart thumps loudly.
B-bmp. B-bmp.
You stare down your enemy. (The opposing team.) You take a deep breath. Then your general (coach) blows the whistle and hollers, "FIRE!"
The battle begins.